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MEMOIRS 


OF 


EMINENTLY  PIOUS  WOMEN 


OF 


BRITAIN  AND  AMERICA. 


COLLECTED   AND   EDITED  BY 

DAVID    FRANCIS    BACON 


<Y 


Favor  is  deceitful  and  beauty  is  vain ;  but  a  woman  that  feareth  the  Lord,  she  shall  be 
praised. — Proverbs  xxxi.  30. 


/°    NEW  HAVEN: 
PUBLISHED  BY  DANIEL  McLEOD, 


1833. 


3>z 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1833,  by  Daniel  McLeod,  in  the  Clerk's  office, 
of  the  District  Court  of  Connecticut. 


Printed  by  Hezekiah  Howe  &  Co. 


d 

CONTENTS 


Page. 

Preface, 5 

Lady  Jane  Grey,        9 

Queen  Catharine  Parr, 33 

Countess  of  Warwick, 45 

Lady  Elizabeth  Brooke, 59 

Lady  Alice  Lucy, 72 

Lady  Frances  Hobart, 76 

Viscountess  Falkland, 84 

Mrs.  Lucy  Hutchinson, 102 

Mrs.  Catharine  Clark, 122 

Countess  of  Carbery, 137 

Lady  Rachel  Russell, 145 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Bury, 159 

Queen  Mary  II.,        183 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Burnet, 206 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Rowe, 212 

Countess  of  Seafield, 229 

Elizabeth  West, 246 

Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings, 260 

Countess  of  Huntingdon, 272 

Lady  Ann  Agnes  Erskine, 280 

Viscountess  Glenorchy, 285 

Lady  Henrietta  Hope, 297 


IV  CONTENTS. 

Page. 

Mrs.  Sarah  Edwards, 301 

Mrs.  Sarah  Osbom, 332 

Miss  Susanna  Anthony, 363 

Mrs.  Martha  Laurens  Ramsay, 384 

Mrs.  Isabella  Graham, 395 

Mrs.  Harriet  Newell, 419 

Miss  Fanny  Woodbury, 431 

Mrs.  Susan  Huntington,        439 

Miss  Caroline  Elizabeth  Smelt, 469 

Mrs.  Susan  Poor,        493 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Dolson, 512 

Mrs.  Sally  Agard, 519 

Miss  Elizabeth  Peck, 522 

Miss  Lydia  B.  Leavitt, 531 

Miss  Elizabeth  Hough, 535 

Mrs.  Sally  Rundal, 539 

Miss  Catharine  Brown, 543 

Tahneh, 560 

Mrs.  Jane  Clark, 564 

Mrs.  Elizabeth  Bishop, 568 

Mrs.  Ann  Hasseltine  Judson, 575 

Mrs.  Esther  Butler, 581 

Eliza, 585 

Mrs.  Myra  W.  Allen, 593 

Miss  Hannah  Adams, 602 


PREFACE 


The  learned  and  philosophical  Bayle  remarks,  "  Atheism  is  not 
the  vice  of  women  5  they  make  it  a  virtue  not  to  enter  into  deep 
reasonings,  so  that  they  adhere  to  their  catechism,  and  are  more  in- 
clined to  superstition  than  impiety."     If  this  is  indeed  the  natural 
constitution  of  the  sex,  it  cannot  be  esteemed  at  all  unfortunate  with 
reference  to  their  destinies  in  life,  but  manifests,  on  the  contrary,  the 
wisdom  of  him  who  forms  and  fashions  the  moral  as  well  as  the  phys- 
ical part  of  humanity.     For  the  business  to  which  women  are  called 
in  life,  is  seldom  of  such  a  character  as  to  require  the  boldness  and 
severity  of  investigation,  which  in  the  sterner  sex  sometimes  degen- 
erates into  undiscriminating  scepticism.     The  office  of  training  the 
infant  mind,  and  giving  to  the  young  immortal  those  first  principles  of 
thought  and  feeling  that  must  constitute  the  character  for  ever,  needs 
powers  and  propensities  of  a  different  kind  from  those  of  him  who 
devotes  his  life  and  labor  to  the  discovery  of  new  truth.     The  mother 
seeks  and  finds  the  materials  of  instruction,   in  the  truths  which  the 
experience  and  opinions  of  ages  or  the  sanctions  of  religion  have 
approved  and  hallowed,   and  the  course  of  her  natural  duties  can 
seldom  or  never  lead  her  to  search  after  those  before  hidden.     The 
disposition  in  her  to  receive  the  solemn  and  saving  truths  of  Chris- 
tianity with  more  readiness,  than  the  scoffs  or  sophistry  of  atheism 
and  error,  assures  us  that  rising  generations  shall  learn  in  their  earliest 
and  most  susceptible  years,  that  knowledge  which  is  of  eternal  im- 
portance, and  that  the  tender  twig  shall  receive  a  bent,  which  shall 
grow  with  its  growth  and  strengthen  with  its  strength,  till  maturity  has 
fixed  its  character.     The  mighty  and  immeasurable  influence  which 
mothers  exert  on  the  character  of  an  age  or  a  nation  must  itself  be 
swayed  by  religious  principle,  or  it  will  prove  a  pestilential  miasma, 
poisoning  every  breath  and  tainting  the  whole  moral  atmosphere. 
Religious  principle  early  implanted  with  the  solicitude  of  tender  affec- 
tion, and  watered  with  fervent  prayer,   will  not  be  fruitless ;  it  will 
at  least  operate  as  a  restraint  from  sin  ;  and,  in  general,  a  much  hap- 
pier result  may  be  expected,     Few  are  so  far  sunk  in   iniquity  as 


VI  PREFACE. 

wholly  to  forget  the  lessons  of  their  childhood.  This  is  beautifully 
illustrated  in  the  familiar  story  which  an  eminently  good  man  told  of 
himself;  that  when  he  was  a  boy,  his  mother  used  to  call  him  to  her 
side  at  evening,  and  placing  her  hand  on  his  forehead,  pray  over  him 
and  for  him,  teaching  him  also  such  prayers  as  suited  his  age.  The 
mother  died,  and  the  boy,  as  he  grew  up  to  manhood,  mixing  with 
the  gay  and  busy  world,  turned  aside  from  the  ways  in  which  that 
parent  had  led  him,  and  gave  himself  up  to  the  pleasures  of  sin. 
But  wherever  he  went,  in  every  scene  of  gayety  or  splendor,  or  vice, 
he  always  seemed  to  feel,  as  in  childhood,  the  gentle  pressure  of  that 
cold  hand  on  his  burning  brow,  reminding  him  of  prayer ;  till  at 
last  the  memory  of  that  mother's  early  culture,  aided  by  the  Spirit 
of  God  striving  with  him,  turned  him  back  to  the  forsaken  ways  of 
wisdom,  and  those  low  whispered  prayers  that  fell  upon  his  ear  in 
childhood,  came  to  his  heart  with  a  more  convincing  eloquence  than 
all  the  thunders  of  homiletic  theology. 

Our  age  has  produced  many  bright  examples  of  female  excel- 
lence, in  a  literary  as  well  as  a  religious  point  of  view,  who  have 
not  only  trod  the  paths  of  science,  but  have  devoted  their  time  and 
employed  their  talents  in  imparting  instruction  to  all  ranks  of  society; 
thus  consecrating  their  endowments  to  the  service  of  him,  who  so 
bountifully  bestowed  them. 

It  is  remarked  by  our  celebrated  moralist,  Dr.  Johnson,  "  That 
there  has  scarcely  passed  a  life,  of  which  a  judicious  and  faithful 
narrative  would  not  have  been  useful."  If  such  a  remark  is  gener- 
ally applicable,  much  more  is  it  appropriate  to  the  subjects  of  grace. 
To  observe  the  past  conduct  of  others  may  be  very  useful  to  pilot 
us  through  life,  by  shewing  the  rocks  upon  which  they  split ;  but 
the  history  of  the  heirs  of  glory  is  full  of  instruction  as  well  as  ad- 
monition ;  it  teaches  us  how  to  enjoy  prosperity,  to  support  adversi- 
ty, to  improve  affliction ;  and,  above  all,  guides  our  feet  to  those 
heavenly  mansions  where  there  are  joys  unspeakable,  and  everlast- 
ing pleasures. 

The  varied  circumstances  and  situations  in  life  of  the  subjects  of 
these  Memoirs  cause  a  great  diversity  in  their  history;  some  are  in- 
stances of  early  maturity  in  the  divine  life,  and  were  transplanted 
into  their  native  soil  in  the  bloom  of  youth ;  others  were  removed  in 
the  midst  of  active   useiulness,  ■  and   some  were   gathered  into  the 


PREFACE,  V1J 

heavenly  garner  in  ilie  evening  of  life,  as  shocks  of  corn  fully  ripe ; 
some  were  among  the  rich  and  noble,  others  humble  and  obscure ; 
some  of  great  talents,  cultivated  minds,  and  liberal  education ;  others 
plain  and  unlettered ;  but  the  same  point  is  discernible  in  all — ex- 
perimental, vital  religion,  manifesting  itself  in  holiness  of  life  and 
conversation. 

The  work  which  afforded  the  materials  for  the  first  half  of  this 
volume  was  Burder's  Memoirs  of  Eminently  Pious  Women  of  the 
British  Empire,  a  book  of  high  reputation,  from  which  have  been 
extracted  such  of  the  most  valuable  memoirs  as  the  limits  of  this 
volume  would  admit.  The  second  part  of  this  volume  is  a  compi- 
lation from  various  sources,  in  which  it  has  been  attempted  to  in- 
clude sketches  of  those  who  have  been  most  highly  distinguished 
for  piety  and  usefulness  in  our  country.  The  list,  however,  is  by  no 
means  complete  ;  and  in  the  course  of  the  tedious  and  laborious  re- 
searches which  the  Editor  has  been  compelled  to  make  in  the  prep- 
aration of  the  work,  a  large  mass  of  materials  has  been  brought  to 
light,  which,  if  the  present  volume  should  be  well  received,  will 
probably  hereafter  be  given  to  the  world  in  an  improved  form,  with 
suitable  illustrations. 

The  Editor  considers  the  following  Memoirs  as  exhibiting  an  in- 
teresting picture  of  genuine  Christianity,  but  certainly  does  not  hold 
himself  responsible  for  all  the  sentiments  and  expressions  thus  re- 
corded. He  would  discard  every  thing  which  is  contrary  to  godli- 
ness, built  on  sound  scriptural  knowledge,  and  a  steady,  regular 
walk ;  and  judges  the  best  evidences  of  a  state  of  salvation  to  be 
those  which  are  found  in  holy  dispositions  and  correspondent  de- 
portment. D.  F.  B^ 

New  Haven,  May,  1833, 


MEMOIRS 


OF 


EMINENTLY  PIOUS  WOMEN. 


LADY  JANE   GREY, 

OTHERWISE  LADY  JANE  DUDLEY,  OR  QUEEN  JANE;  SHE  HAVING  BEEN  PRO- 
CLAIMED QUEEN  OF  ENGLAND  UPON  THE  DEMISE,  AND  IN  PURSUANCE  OF 
THE  APPOINTMENT,  OF  HER  COUSIN  KING  EDWARD  THE  SIXTH. 


Lady  Jane  Grey  was  of  a  very  noble  stock.  Her  father,  Henry 
Grey,  Marquis  of  Dorset,  descended  in  a  direct  line  from  Sir  Thom- 
as 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  Hen- 
ry the  Seventh,  and  sister  to  King  Henry  the  Eighth. 

Lady  Jane  very  early  in  life  gave  astonishing  proofs  of  the  great- 
ness 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  su- 
perior. Her  person  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." 

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  ad- 
mirably on  various  instruments  of  music,  and  accompanied  them  with 


*  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. 


10  MEMOIRS  OF 

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  let- 
ters, and  wTas  a  patron  of  learned  men.  He  had  two  chaplains, 
Harding  and  Aylmer,  both  eminent  for  their  literature,  whom  he  em- 
ployed as  tutors  to  his  daughter.  Under  their  instructions  she  made 
a  most  extraordinary  proficiency.  She  spoke  and  wrote  her  own 
language  with  peculiar  accuracy ;  and  it  is  said,  that  the  French,  Ital- 
ian, Latin,  and  especially  the  Greek  tongues,  were  as  natural  to  her 
as  her  own ;  for  she  not  only  understood  them  perfectly,  but  wrote 
them  with  the  utmost  freedom  ;  and  this,  not  in  the  opinion  of  super- 
ficial judges,  but  of  Mr.  Ascham,  and  Dr.  Aylmer ;  men  who,  in 
point  of  veracity,  were  as  much  above  suspicion,  as  in  respect  of 
abilities  they  were  incapable  of  being  deceived ;  men,  who  were,  for 
their  learning,  the  wonder  of  their  own  times,  and  of  ours  :  the  form- 
er, famous  for  Roman  accuracy ;  the  latter,  one  of  the  ablest  critics 
in  those  learned  days.  She  was  also  versed  in  Hebrew,  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  quickness  of  ap- 
prehension, 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  extra- 
ordinary endowments ;  but  was  remarkably  gentle,  humble,  and  mod- 
est in  her  demeanor. 

Her  parents,  as  appears  from  her  own  account,  were  both  of  them 
strangely  severe  in  their  behavior  towards  her ;  and  as  she  was  nat- 
urally 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  chi- 
dings  of  her  parents,  she  returned  with  double  pleasure  to  the  lessons 
of  her  learned  preceptor ;  and  sought  in  Demosthenes  and  Plato,  her 
favorite  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  favor  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  con- 
versation. But  for  the  most  part  of  her  time  she  seems  to  have  con- 
tinued 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 

*  Roger  Ascham,  Esq.,  two  years  tutor  to  the  Princess,  afterwards  Queen  Elizabeth. 


LADY    JANE    (iREY.  11 

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  par- 
ents, the  duke  and  dutchess,  with  all  the  household,  gentlemen  and 
gentlewomen,  were  hunting  in  the  park.  I  found  her  in  her  cham- 
ber reading  Phoedo  Platonis  in  Greek,  and  that  with  as  much  de- 
light, as  some  gentlemen  would  read  a  merry  tale  in  Boccace.  Af- 
ter salutation,  and  duty  done,  with  some  other  talk,  I  asked  her  why 
she  should  lose  such  pastime  in  the  park  ?  Smiling,  she  answered 
me ;  '  I  wist  all  their  sport  in  the  park  is  but  a  shadow,  to  that  pleas- 
ure  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  knowledge  of  pleasure  ?  And  what  did  chiefly  allure  you  unto 
it,  seeing  not  many  women,  but  very  few  men  have  attained  there- 
unto?' 'I  will  tell  you,'  quoth  she,  'and  tell  you  a  truth  which  per- 
chance 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  gen- 
tle 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  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  pinch- 
es, nips,  and  bobs,  and  other  ways,  which  I  will  not  name  for  the 
honor  I  bear  them,  so  without  measure  misordered,  that  I  think  my- 
self in  hell  till  time  come  that  I  must  go  to  Mr.  Aylmer,*  who  teach- 
eth  me  so  gently,  so  pleasantly,  with  such  fair  allurements  to  learn- 
ing, 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  misli- 
king  unto  me.  And  thus  my  book  hath  been  so  much  my  pleasure, 
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  be- 
cause it  is  so  worthy  of  memory,  and  because  also  it  was  the  last  talk 
I  ever  had,  and  the  last  time  that  ever  I  saw  that  noble  and  worthy 
lady." 

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  !  Mr.  Ascham  appears  (and  where  is  the 
wonder  ?)  to  have  been  deeply  affected  with  this  interview,  and  to 
have  retained  a  most  pleasant  and  honorable  remembrance  of  it.  In 
a  letter  written  the  December  following  to  his  friend  Sturmius,  hav- 
ing informed  him  that  he  had  had  the  honor  and  happiness  of  being 


*  Dr.  John  A  j  liner,  afterwards  Bishop  of  London. 


12  MEMOIRS  OF 

admitted  to  converse  familiarly  with  this  young  lady,  and  that  she 
had  written  a  very  elegant  Latin  letter  to  him,  he  proceeds  to  men- 
tion this  visit  at  Broadgate,  and  his  consequent  surprise  at  what  oc- 
cured  there,  not  without  some  degree  of  rapture.  Thence  he  takes 
occasion  to  observe,  that  she  both  spoke  and  wrote  Greek  to  admira- 
tion, and  that  she  had  promised  to  write  him  a  letter  in  that  language 
upon  condition  that  he  would  send  her  one  first  from  the  empe- 
ror's court.*  But  this  rapture  rose  much  higher,  while  he  was  com- 
posing 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  study- 
ing the  divine  Phcedo  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 
prompted  her  also  to  write  another  to  his  friend  Sturmius,  that  what 
he  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  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 
maternal  uncles,  Henry  and  Charles  Brandon,  both  dying  at  Bugden, 
the  Bishop  of  Lincoln's  palace,  of  the  sweating  sickness,  her  father 
was  created  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  effectual  but  a  change  in  the  succession  to  the  crown,  and 
the  transferring  it  into  their  own  families.  The  Lady  Jane  was  des- 
tined to  the  principal  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 


*  Aschani's  Epist.  lib.  i.  epist.  4.  It  is  to  be  observed,  tbat  Mr.  Ascham,  at  the 
time  of  his  making  his  visit  to  Lady  Jane,  was  going  to  London,  to  attend  Sir  Rich- 
ard Morrison  on  his  embassy  to  the  Emperor  Charles  the  Fifth,  in  Germany 


LADY    JANE    GREY.  13 

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  contributed  to  the  expenses  of  it  from 
the  royal  wadrobe. 

But  the  magnificence  and  splendor  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.  According- 
ly, in  the  beginning  of  June,  he  communicated  the  matter  to  the 
young  monarch,  and  having  first  made  all  such  colorable  objections 
as  the  affair  would  admit  against  his  majesty's  two  sisters,  Mary  and 
Elizabeth ;  he  observed,  that  the  Lady  Jane,  who  was  of  the  royal 
line,  was  a  person  of  extraordinary  qualities ;  that  her  zeal  for  the 
Reformation  was  unquestioned ;  that  nothing  could  be  more  accept- 
able to  the  nation  than  the  prospect  of  such  a  princess  ;  and,  that  in 
this  case  he  was  bound  to  set  aside  all  partialities  of  blooa1,  and  neai- 
ness  of  relation,  which  were  inferior  considerations,  and  ought  to  be 
over-ruled  by  the  public  good.  To  corroborate  and  secure  the  suc- 
cess of  this  discourse,  care  was  taken  to  place  about  the  king  those 
who  should  make  it  their  business  to  touch  frequently  upon  this  sub- 
ject, enlarge  upon  the  accomplishments  of  Lady  Jane,  and  describe 
her  with  all  imaginable  advantages.  In  the  result  of  the  king's  af- 
fections 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  hav- 
ing passed  the  seals  before  the  close  of  the  month,  the  next  step  was 
to  concert  the  properest  method  for  carrying  this  settlement  into  ex- 
ecution ;  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  Greenwich,  where  the  court  then  was ;  and  she 
had  got  within  a  half  a  day's  journey  of  the  place  when  King  Ed- 
ward 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  un- 
acquainted with  the  steps  which  had  been  taken  to  procure  her  the 
frown.  At  this  juncture  the  Princess  Mary  sent  a  letter  to  the 
privy  counsel,  in  which,   though  she  did  not  take  the  title  of  queen. 


14  MEMOIRS    OF 

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 ;  intimating  that  there  was  still  room 
for  reconciliation,  and  that  if  they  complied  with  their  duty  in  pro- 
claiming her  queen,  she  would  forgive  and  even  forget  what  was 
past.  But,  in  answer  to  her  letter,  they  insisted  upon  the  indubita- 
ble right  of  Lady  Jane,  and  their  own  unalterable  fidelity  to  her  as 
their  queen,  to  whom  they  urged  her  to  submit. 

These  previous  steps  being  taken,  and  the  Tower  and  city  of  Lon- 
don secured,  the  council  quitted  Greenwich  and  came  to  London : 
and  on  Monday,  July  the  10th,  in  the  forenoon,  the  two  last-men- 
tioned dukes  repaired  to  Durham  House,  where  the  Lady  Jane  re- 
sided with  her  husband,  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  honors,  returned  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  burdening  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  jus- 
tice, to  scruple  at  the  stealing  of  a  shilling,  and  not  at  the  usurpa- 
tion 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  per- 
mit 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 
Catharine  of  Arragon,  made  more  unfortunate  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  fortune  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 
proffer  me,  with  what  precious  stones  soever  it  be  adorned,  or  of 
what  gold  soever  framed.     I  will  not  exchange  my  peace  for  honor- 


LADY    JANE    GREY.  15 

able  and  precious  jealousies,  for  magnificent  and  glorious  fetters. 
And  if  you  Jove  me  sincerely,  and  in  good  earnest,  you  will  rather 
wish  me  a  secure  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  father,  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  entered  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  sovreignty.  But  the 
royalty  of  this  worthy  lady  was  of  very  short  duration,  a  sunbeam  of 
glory,  which  was  soon  utterly  extinguished  in  clouds  and  darkness ; 
for  on  the  19th  of  the  same  month,  the  Princess  Mary  was  proclaim- 
ed queen  in  London,  so  that  the  reign  of  this  lady  was  only  a  va- 
por of  about  nine  days  continuance. 

As  soon  as  the  Duke  of  Suffolk,  who  now  resided  with  his  daugh- 
er  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  condition  of  a  private  person.  To  which  intelligence  she, 
with  a  composed  and  serene  countenance,  made  the  following  an- 
swer. "  Sir,  I  better  brook  this  message  than  that  of  my  advance- 
ment to  royalty.     Out  of  obedience  to  you,  and  to  my  mother,  I  have 


*  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  con- 
science, 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  her  own  seeking  and  request. — Burnet's 
History  of  the  Reformation,  Vol.  II.  p.  235. 

Lady  Jane,  says  the  writer  of  the  British  Biography,  was  altogether  uninfluenc- 
ed by  any  ambitious  views,  and  the  settlement  of  the  succession  was  by  no  means 
agreeable  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. 


16  MEMOIR    OF 

grievously  sinned,  and  offered  violence  lo  myself.  I  now  willingly, 
and  as  obeying  the  motions  of  my  soul,  relinquish  the  crown,  and 
endeavor  to  salve  those  faults  committed  by  others  if  at  least  so  great 
a  fault  can  be  salved,  by  a  willing  relinquishment,  and  ingenuous  ac- 
knowledgment 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  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  was  there  arraigned  and  con- 
victed of  high  treason  by  Judge  Morgan,  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  indigencies. 
These  circumstances  might  give  some  gleam  of  hope :  but  Queen 
Mary  at  length  determined  to  take  ofT  both  Lady  Jane  and  her  hus- 
band. The  fatal  news  made  no  great  impression  upon  her,  the  bit- 
terness 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  Me- 
moirs, affords  us  strong  proofs  of  this  lady's  fine  understanding,  her 
most  uncommon  proficiency  in  learning,  and  her  most  noble  and  ex- 
cellent spirit,  that  ascended  to  the  highest  elevation  of  human  life 
with  sincere  reluctance,  and  descended  from  it  with  as  sincere  pleas- 
ure. 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  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 
Religion,  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.  Hap- 
pening 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 : 


LADY    JANE    GREY.  17 

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  ?"  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 
conversation  between  herself  and  him  who  was  afterwards  Dr.  Feck- 
enham,  otherwise  Howman.*  who  was  sent  by  the  queen  but  two 
days  before  her  death,  to  discourse  with  Lady  Jane,  and  to  use  his 
best  endeavors  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  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  favor  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. 

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  labor  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  ? 

Lady  Jane. — That  he  should  believe  in  God  the  Father,  the  Son, 
and  the  Holy  Ghost ;  three  persons,  and  one  God. 

Feckenham. — What !  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  neighbor  as  ourself. 

Feckenham. — Why  then  faith  justifieth  not,  nor  saveth  not? 


*  John  de  Feckenham  was  so  called  because  he  was  horn  in  a  cottage  near  the 
forest  of  Feckenham,  in  Worcestershire,  his  right  name  heing  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  taking  his 
degree  of  bachelor  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  Oxford  ;  and  in  September  following, 
appointed  Abbot  of  Westminster  Abbey.  He  is  said  to  have  been  a  generous  and 
benevolent  man. 

3 


lo  MEMOIRS  OF 

Lady  Jane. — Yes,  verily ;  faith,  as  Paul  saitb,  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  neighbor  ? 

Lady  Jane. — To  love  our  neighbor  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  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. 

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 
signified  by  your  two  sacraments  ? 

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  Sup- 
per offered  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  everlasting  kingdom. 

Feckenham. — Why,  what  do  you  receive  in  that  sacrament  ?  Do 
you  not  receive  the  very  body  and  blood  of  Christ  ? 

Lady  Jane. — No,  surely,  I  do  not  so  believe.  I  think  that  at  the 
supper  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  1  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 ; 
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, 


LADY  JANE  GHEY.  10 

or  else  there  were  two  bodies,  or  two  Christs.  One  body  was  tor- 
mented 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  miracles  as  he  wrought  by  his  power  only  ? 

Lady  Jane. — Yes  verily.  If  God  would  have  done  at  his  supper 
any  miracle,  he  might  have  done  so ;  but  T  say  that  then  he  minded 
no  work  nor  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  ?  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 
cat ;  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  an- 
tiquity ?  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  salvation.  And  I  say  it  is  an  evil  church,  and 
not  the  spouse  of  Christ,  but  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  Corinthians  in  both  kinds?  Shall 
I  believe  this  church  ?     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  ?  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 


Foxe's  Acts  and  Monuments,  Vol,  III.  p.  31,  32 


20 


MEMOIRS  OF 


church,  but  it  would  not  be.  There  were  many  more  things  where- 
of they  reasoned,  but  these  were  the  chief.  After  this  Mr.  Fecken- 
ham  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  La- 
dy Jane,  "  that  we  shall  never  meet,  except  God  turn  your  heart ; 
for  I  am  assured  unless  you  repent,  and  turn  to  God,  you  are  in  an 
evil  case  ;  and  I  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 
chaplains,  Messrs.  Harding  and  Aylmer,  who  were  also  her  precep- 
tors. Mr.  Harding  it  seems  was,  in  King  Edward's  days,  a  zeal- 
ous protestant,  and  was  not  only  a  preacher  of  the  Reformed  Reli- 
gion, 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  po- 
pery in  Queen  Mary's  reign,  he  renounced  his  protestantism,  and  be- 
came a  papist. f  Upon  his  apostasy  Lady  Jane  wrote  him  a  letter, 
which  will  abundantly  shew,  that  however  he  was  qualified  to  instruct 
her  in  the  matters  of  learning,  she  was  no  less  capable  to  instruct  him 
in  the  greater  concerns  of  religion.  Should  the  letter  appear  to  be 
rather  too  severe  and  poignant,  let  it  be  remembered,  that  Lady  Jane 
must  have  known  Mr.  Harding  well,  and  was  warranted  by  her  inti- 
mate acquaintance  to  deal  more  freely  with  him  ;  that  she  might  prob- 
ably have  heard  him  often  represent  the  Romish  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  1  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  of  our  Savior  Christ  to  all  those  that,  forsaking  themselves,  do 
follow  him,  I  cannot  but  marvel  at  thee,  and  lament  thy  case,  which 
seemed  formerly  to  be  the  lively  member  of  Christ,  but  now  the  de- 
formed imp  of  the  devil ;  formerly  the  beautiful  temple  of  God,  but 
now  the  stinking  and  filthy  kennel  of  Satan ;  formerly  the  unspotted 


*  We  must  conceive  that  this  was  understood  as  it  was  spoken,  as  flowing  from  a 
religious  zeal,  and  not  from  any  distaste  of  contradiction,  or  any  dislike  to  his  per- 
son ;  since  we  find  tha':  Mr.  Feckenham,  far  from  deserting,  attended  her  to  the 
very  last,  and  that  the  Lady  Jane  shewed  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  Brltannica,  Vol.  IV.  p.  2421. 

t  It  appears  that  Mr.  Harding,  after  his  embracing  popery,  persisted  in  its  profes- 
sion 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.  21 

spouse  of  Christ,  but  now  the  shameless  paramour  of  Antichrist ; 
formerly  my  faithful  brother,  but  now  a  stranger  and  apostate ;  some- 
time 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  deceived,  the  world  hath  beguiled,  and  the  desire  of  life 
subverted,  and  made  thee  from  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  ?  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  ?  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  mem- 
bers, thy  body  and  soul,  and  choosest  rather  to  live  miserably  with 
shame  to  the  world,  than  to  die,  and  gloriously  with  honor  reign  with 
Christ,  in  whom  even  in  death  is  life.  Why  dost  thou  now  show 
thyself  most  weak,  when  indeed  thou  oughtest  to  be  most  strong  ? 
The  strength  of  a  fort  is  unknown  before  the  assault,  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  ?  Wilt  thou  now  forsake  him  that  called  thee  from  the  custom- 
gathering  among  the  Romish  antichristians,  to  be  an  ambassador  and 
messenger  of  his  eternal  word  ?  He  that  first  framed  thee,  and  since 
thy  first  creation  and  birth  preserved  thee,  nourished  and  kept  thee, 
yea,  and  inspired  thee  with  the  spirit  of  knowledge,  (I  cannot  say 
of  grace,)  shall  he  not  now  possess  thee  ?  Darest  thou  deliver  up 
thyself  to  another,  being  not  thine  own,  but  his  ?  How  canst  thou, 
having  knowledge,  or  how  darest  thou  neglect  the  law  of  the  Lord, 
and  follow  the  vain  traditions  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  ?  Wilt  thou  torment  again, 
rend  and  tear  the  most  precious  body  of  our  Savior  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  living  sacrifice  once  for  all  ? 
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  honor  any  other 
God  than  him  ?  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  honor  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  ? 


22  MEMOIRS    OF 

"  What  saith  the  prophet  Baruch,  where  he  recited  the  Epistle  of 
Jeremy,  written  to  the  captive  Jews  ?  Did  he  not  forewarn  them 
that  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  you  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  are  they,  and 
laid  over  with  silver,  and  vain  things,  and  cannot  speak.  He  show- 
eth,  moreover,  the  abuse  of  their  dealings,  how  the  priests  took  off 
their  ornaments,  and  apparelled  their  women  withal ;  how  one  hold- 
eth  a  sceptre,  another  a  sword  in  his  hand,  and  yet  can  they  judge 
it  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  thyself  by  many  scriptures  in  many 
places.  God  saith  he  is  a  jealous  God,  which  will  have  all  the  honor, 
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  worship  the  Lord  thy  God,  and  him 
only  shalt  thou  serve. 

"These  and  such  like  do  prohibit  thee  and  all  Christians  to  wor- 
ship any  other  god  than  that  which  was  before  all  worlds,  and  laid 
the  foundations  both  of  heaven  and  earth ;  and  wilt  thou  honor  a 
detestable  idol,  invented  by  Romish  popes,  and  the  abominable  col- 
lege of  crafty  cardinals  ?  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  therein  of  a  good  intent,  where  thy 
conscience  beareth  thee  witness  of  God's  threatening  wrath  against 
thee  ?  How  did  Saul  ?  who,  for  that  he  disobeyed  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  honor,  and  rob 
him  of  his  right,  inherit  the  eternal  and  heavenly  kingdom  ?  Wilt 
thou  for  a  good  intent  dishonor  God,  offend  thy  brother,  and  endan- 
ger 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  infirmity,  and  yielded  to  thee  his  victory,  if  thou  couldest 
have  kept  it  ?  Dost  thou  consider  that  the  thread  of  thy  life  hang- 
eth  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  ? 


LADY   JANE    GREY.  23 

Dost  thou  not  then  remenber  the  saying  of  David,  a  notable  king,  to 
teach  thee  a  miserable  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,  Whoso- 
ever 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  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  defense  of 
their  earthly  and  temporal  governor,  so  fly  not  like  a  white-livered 
coward  from  the  standing  wherein  thy  chief  captain  Christ  hath  set 
thee  in  array  of  this  life.  Viriliter  age,  confortetur  cor  tuum,  sus- 
tinet  Dominus*  Fight  manfully,  come  life,  come  death :  the  quar- 
rel is  God's,  and  undoubtedly  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  ?  the  agree- 
ment of  Anti-christ  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  Jo- 
seph's brethren  and  Jacob's  sons  in  an  unity  ?  Were  not  the  heathen, 
as  the  Amalekites,  the  Perizzites,  and  the  Jebusites,  in  an  unity  ? 
Doth  not  King  David  testify,  '  they  united  against  the  Lord.'  Yea, 
thieves,  murderers,  conspirators,  have  their  unity.  But  what  unity? 
Tully  saith  of  amity :  t  Amicitia  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,  '  I  have  not  come  to  send  peace  on 
the  earth,  but  a  sword,  to  set  one  against  another,  the  son  against 
the  father,  and  the  daughter  against  the  mother-in-law.'  Deceive 
not  thyself  therefore  with  the  glittering  and  glorious  name  of  unity, 
for  Anti-christ  hath  his  unity,  not  yet  in  deed,  but  in  name.  The 
agreement  of  ill  men  is  not'  an  unity,  but  a  conspiracy.  Thou  hast 
heard  some  threatenings,  some  cursings,  and  some  admonitions  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 


'Go  on  manfully,  let  thy  heart  be  strengthened;  the  Lord  sustains." 


24  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  re- 
newed again  by  repentance.  And  again,'  saith  he,  '  if  we  shall  wil- 
lingly 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  devour  the  adversaries.'  Thus  St.  Paul  wri- 
teth, and  this  thou  readest,  and  dost  thou  not  quake  and  and  tremble  ? 

"Well,  if  these  terrible  and  thundering  threatenings  cannot  stir 
thee  to  cleave  unto  Christ  and  forsake  the  world,  yet  let  the  sweet 
consolations  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.  Hear  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  before  you.'  Hear  what  Isaiah  the  prophet 
saith,  '  Fear  not  the  curse  of  men,  be  not  afraid  of  their  blasphe- 
mies ;  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  fear- 
est  a  mortal  man,  the  child  of  man,  which  fadeth  away  like  the  flow- 
er, and  forgettest  the  Lord  that  made  thee,  that  spread  out  the  heav- 
ens, and  laid  the  foundation  of  the  earth  ?  I  am  the  Lord  thy  God 
that  make  the  sea  to  rage,  and  to  be  still,  whose  name  is  the  Lord  of 
Hosts.  I  will  put  my  word  in  thy  mouth,  and  defend  thee  with  the 
turning  of  an  hand.'  And  our  Savior  Christ  saith  to  his  disciples, 
{ 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  you  head  are  all  numbered.  Lay  up  treasure  for  your- 
selves,' 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  towards  God.  Let  not  the  examples  of  holy  men 
and  women  go  out  of  your  mind,  as  Daniel  and  the  rest  of  the  pro- 
phets, of  the  three  children  of  Eleazarus,  that  constant  father,  of 
the  seven  of  the  Maccabees  children,  of  Peter,  Paul,  Stephen,  and 
other  apostles  and  holy  martyrs  in  the  beginning  of  the  church.     As 


LADY    JANE    GREY.  25 

of  good  Simeon,  Archbishop  of  Seloma,  and  Zetrophone,  with  in- 
finite others  under  Saphores  the  king  of  the  Persians  and  Indians, 
who  contemned  all  torments  devised  by  the  tyrants  for  their  Savior's 
sake.  Return,  return  again  into  Christ's  war ;  and  as  becometh  a 
faithful  warrior  put  on  that  armor  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  provoked  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  offense  of  apostasy,  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  strangers  to  the  delicates  of  your  most  benign  and  loving  Father, 
acknowledging  that  you  have  sinned  against  heaven  and  earth  :  against 
heaven,  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  offending  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  weep  bitterly  with  Peter, 
not  only  with  shedding  the  tears  of  your  bodily  eyes,  but  also  pour- 
ing 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  ?'  Remem- 
ber the  horrible  history  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  offense. 

"Last  of  all,  let  the  lively  remembrance  of  the  last  day  be  al- 
ways before  your  eyes,  remembering  the  terror  that  such  shall  be  in 
at  that  time,  with  the  runagates  and  fugitives  from  Christ,  which  set- 
ting 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  prepar- 
ed for  them,  that  fearing  no  peril,  nor  dreading  death,  have  manful- 
ly fought,  and  victoriously  triumphed  over  all  power  of  darkness, 
over  hell,  death  and  damnation,  through  their  most  redoubted  cap- 
tain 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  delicacies  of  his  own  precious  blood,  which  undoubt- 
edly, if  it  might  stand  with  his  determinate  purpose,  he  would  not 
wait  to  shed  again  rather  than  you  should  be  lost.  To  whom  with 
the  Father  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  be  all  honor,  praise,  and  glory  ever- 
lasting.    Amen. 

4 


26  MEMOIRS    OF 

"  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  unhap- 
py 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  patiently  take  it,  as  I  yield  God  more  hearty  thanks  for  shorten- 
ing my  woful  days,  than  if  all  the  world  had  been  given  unto  my  posses- 
sions with  life  lengthened  to  my  own  will.  And  albeit  I  am  well  as- 
sured of  your  impatient  dolors,  redoubled  manifold  ways,  both  in  be- 
wailing your  own  woes,  and  especially,  as  I  hear,  my  unfortunate 
state ;  yet,  my  dear  father,  if  I  may  without  offense  rejoice  in  my 
own  mishaps,  meseems  in  this  I  may  account  myself  blessed,  that 
washing  my  hands  with  the  innocency  of  my  fact,  my  guiltlesss  blood 
may  cry  before  the  Lord  mercy  to  the  innocent.  And  yet  though  I 
must  needs  acknowledge,  that  being  constrained,  and  as  you  wot  well 
enough,  and  continually  assayed,  in  taken  upon  me,  I  seemed  to  con- 
sent, and  therein  grievously  offended  the  queen  and  her  laws ;  yet 
do  1  assuredly  trust,  that  this  my  offense  towards  God  is  so  much  the 
less,  in  that,  being  in  so  royal  estate  as  I  was,  mine  enforced  honor 
never  blended  with  mine  innocent  heart.  And  thus,  good  father,  I 
have  opened  to  you  the  state  in  which  I  presently  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  pleasure  with 
Christ  our  Savior :  in  whose  steadfast  faith,  if  it  may  be  lawful  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." 

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  Catha- 
rine,* the  night  before  Lady  Jane  was  beheaded. 

"I  have  sent  you  here  good  sister  Catharine,  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  be- 
queathed unto  us  wretches,  which  shall  lead  you  to  the  path  of  eter- 
nal 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 


*  The  Lady  Jane  had  two  sisters  younger  than  herself;  this  Lady  Catharine  the 
eldest,  and  Lady  Mary  the  younger. 


LADY  JANE   GREY. 


shall  win  you  more  than  you  should  have  gained  by  your  vvoful 
father's  lands  :  for,  as  if  God  had  prospered  him,  you  should  have  in- 
herited 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  tenderness  of 
your  age  shall  lengthen  your  life ;  for  as  soon  if  God  call,  goeth  the 
young  as  the  old,  and  labor  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  upon  you  as  a  thief  in  the  night,  you  be  with  the  evil 
servant  found  sleeping,  and  lest  for  want  of  oil  you  be  found  like  the 
five  foolish  women,  and  like  him  that  had  not  on  the  wedding  gar- 
ment, 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,  rejoice  as  I  do,  good  sister,  that  I  shall  be  de- 
livered 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  mise- 
ries. Thou,  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  afflictions,  disquieted  with  troubles,  wrapped  in 
cares,  overwhelmed  with  miseries,  and  grievously  tormented  with  the 
long  imprisonment  of  this  vile  mass  of  clay,  my  sinful  body,  do  come 
unto  thee,  O  merciful  Savior,  craving  thy  mercy  and  help,  without  the 
which  so  little  hope  of  deliverance  is  left,  that  I  may  utterly  despair 
of  any  liberty.     Albeit  it  is  expedient,  that  seeing  our  life  slandeth 


28 


MEMOIRS   OF 


upon  trying,  we  should  be  visited  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  mer- 
ciful 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  blaspheme  thee,  my 
Lord  and  Savior.  O  merciful  God,  consider  my  misery  best  known 
unto  thee,  and  be  thou  now  unto  me  a  strong  tower  of  defense,  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  cor- 
rection. 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  gracious,  and  hast  thou  shut  up  thy  loving  kindness  in  displeas- 
ure ?  Wilt  thou  no  more  be  entreated  ?  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  mer- 
cy, O  God  ?  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  towards  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  mean  time  arm 
me,  I  beseech  thee,  with  thy  armor,  that  I  may  stand  fast,  my  loins 
being  girt  about  with  verity,  having  on  the  breast  plate  of  righteous- 
ness, 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  com- 
forting 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  thou  that  dost.  Hear  me,  O 
merciful  Father !  for  his  sake,  whom  thou  wouldest  should  be  a  sacri- 
fice for  my  sins :  to  whom,  with  thee,  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  be  all 
honor  and  glory.     Amen." 

These  are  the  principal  remains  of  this  most  excellent  lady.     It 
may  not  be  displeasing  to  our  readers  to  hear  what  judgment  Bishop 


LAD*    JANE    GREY.  29 

Burnet  has  passed  upon  them.  "One  effect,"  says  he,  "of  this, 
that  is,  of  the  frustrated  rising  of  Sir  Thomas  Wiat,  was  the  pro- 
ceeding  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  expectation  of  death.  Feckenham,  af- 
terwards 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  holiness,  of  the  sacraments,  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  the  authority  of  the  church.  Feckenham  left  her,  seeing 
he  could  work  nothing  on  her,  but  procured  her,  as  it  is  said,  the  con- 
tinuance of  her  life  three  days  longer,  and  waited  on  her  on  the  scaf- 
fold. 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  honor  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,  before  whose  death  he  had  animated  the  peo- 
ple much  to  prepare  for  persecution,  and  never  depart  from  the  truth 
of  the  gospel,  but  he  had  now  fallen  away  himself.  To  him  she 
wrote  a  letter  full  of  severe  expostulations  and  threatenings  for  his 
apostasy;  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  devout  prayer  for  her 
retirements,  and  thus  had  she  spent  the  last  moments  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 


■  Burnet's  History  of  the  Reformation,  Vol.  II,  pp.  271,272. 


30  MEMOIRS    OF 

and  parts,  she  was  so  humble,  so  gentle,  and  pious,  that  all  people 
both  admired  and  loved  her.  She  had  a  mind  wonderfully  raised 
above  the  world  ;  and  at  the  age  when  others  are  but  imbibing  the 
notions  of  philosophy,  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  herself  with  an  equal  temper  of  mind  in  those  great  ine- 
qualities of  fortune,  that  so  suddenly  exalted  and  depressed  her. 
All  the  passion  she  expressed  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 
husband  Lord  Dudley,  was  the  12th  of  February,  1554.  The  fatal 
morning  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  wherewith  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  weak- 
en 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  remit  this  interview  to  the  other  world ;  that 
there,  indeed,  friendships  were  happy,  and  unions  indissoluble,  and 
that  their's  would  be  eternal,  if  they  carried  nothing  with  them  of  ter- 
restrial, 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  considered  how  closely  she  was  to  fol- 
low him.  All  she  could  do  was  to  give  him  a  farewell  out  of  the  win- 
dow as  he  passed  toward  the  place  of  his  execution,  which  he  suffer- 
ed 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  countenance.  After  this  af- 
fecting sight,  she  wrote  three  short  sentences  in  her  table-book,  in 
Greek,  Latin,  and  English ;  which  book,  upon  Sir  John  Bridges'sf 
entreaty,  that  she  would  bestow  upon  him  some  memorial,  she  pre- 


*  Burnet's  History  of  the  Reformation,  Vol.  II,  pp.  234,  335,  lblio  edit. 

I  This  Sir  John  Bridges,  the  ancestor  of  the  present  noble  family  of  that  name, 
dukes  of  Chandos,  was  lieutenant  of  the  Tower  at  this  time,  and  was  present  with 
Lady  Jane  in  her  apartment,  from  the  windows  of  which  she  had  the  last  sight  of 
her  husband  living  and  dead: 


LADY    JANE    GREY.  31 

sented  to  him  as  an  acknowledgment  for  the  civility  she  had  receiv- 
ed 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 
punishment,  my  youth  at  least,  and  my  imprudence,  were  worthy  of 
excuse.  God  and  posterity  will  show  me  favor."  She  was  led  out 
by  the  lieutenant  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  had  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  Tower.  She  was  attended  to  and  upon  the  scaffold  by 
Mr.  Feckenham,  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  ta- 
king her  leave  of  Mr.  Feckenham,  she  said,  "  God  will  abundantly 
requite  you,  good  sir,  for  your  humanity  to  me,  though  your  discours- 
es gave  me  more  uneasiness  than  all  the  terrors  of  my  approaching 
death."  She  next  addressed  herself  to  the  spectators  in  the  follow- 
ing 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-er- 
ring judge,  I  am  condemned  to  die,  not  for  any  thing  I  have  offend- 
ed the  queen's  majesty,  for  I  will  wash  my  hands  guiltless  thereof, 
and  deliver  to  my  God  a  soul  as  pure  from  such  tresspass,  as  inno- 
cence 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  nev- 
er 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 
appointed  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 
displeased.  Wherefore,  my  lords,  and  all  you  good  Christian  peo- 
ple, 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  for- 
give 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,  professing  and  avouching  from  my  soul  that  I  trust  to  be  sa- 
ved by  the  blood,  passion,  and  merits  of  Jesus  Christ,  my  Savior,  on- 
ly, and  by  no  other  means,  casting  far  behind  me  all  the  works  and 


32  MEMOIRS,    &C. 

merits  of  mine  own  actions,  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  he  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  offer- 
ed to  assist  her,  but  she  desired  him  to  let  her  alone,  and  turning  her- 
self to  her  woman  they  helped  her  off  with  it,  and  gave  her  an  hand- 
kerchief to  bind  about  her  eyes.  The  executioner  kneeling  down  re- 
quested 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  dispatch  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  executioner  at  one  stroke 
severed  her  head  from  her  body. 

Thus  fell  this  most  accomplished  lady,  resigning  her  life  in  a  man- 
ner worthy  of  her  employing  and  improving  it ;  "  and  a  true  Chris- 
tian 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  su- 
perstitious and  cruel  Queen  Mary  on  her  throne  ?"* 


*  Glocester  Ridley's  Life  of  Bishop  Ridley,  p.  427. 


33 


CATHARINE   PARR. 

CATHARINE,    WIFE    OF    KING    HENRY    THE    EIGHTH,     COMMONLY    CALLED 
CATHARINE    PARR. 


She  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  Thomas  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  fa- 
ther'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  pur- 
poses in  every  stage  of  her  future  life. 

She  was  first  married  to  John  Nevill,  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  Hamp- 
ton Court,  July  12,  1543. 

She  always  took  great  delight  in  conversing  with  the  sacred  wri- 
tings, 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  gospel.  She  seems,  indeed,  to  have  had  a  religious  tincture  from 
her  infancy,  but  the  religious  duties  she  so  carefully  practised  in  ear- 
ly life  were  according  to  the  blind  devotion  of  that  age.  These  er- 
rors she  not  only  afterwards  retracted,  but  forwarded  the  Reforma- 
tion, and  advanced  and  encouraged  the  Protestant  cause.  She  pur- 
sued these  good  designs  as  far  as  the  mutable  and  perverse  disposi- 
tion of  an  arbitrary  prince,  and  the  iniquity  of  the  times,  would  ad- 
mit, 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  Wriothes- 
ley  and  others,  conspired  against  her  so  artfully,  that  at  length,  hav- 
ing drawn  up  articles,  they  procured  a  warrant  subscribed  by  the 
king's  own  hand  to  remove  her  to  the  Tower,  which  being  accident- 
ally 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  imaginable  to  her, 
and  sent  her  one  of  his  physicians,  Dr.  Wendy,  as  is  believed,  to  take 

5 


34  MEMOIRS  OF 

care  of  her  health.  The  doctor,  it  seems,  was  apprized  of  the  de- 
sign, and  guessed  from  outward  symptoms  the  cause  of  the  queen's 
indisposition ;  upon  which,  well  knowing  her  singular  prudence,  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  ad- 
vised the  queen  to  make  his  majesty  a  visit,  not  doubting  but  that  by 
her  good  sense,  and  prudent  management,  she  might  avert  the  im- 
pending danger.  The  queen  took  the  doctor's  advice,  and  soon  af- 
ter made  his  majesty  a  visit,  attended  only  by  her  sister,  the  Lady 
Herbert,  and  the  Lady  Lane.  She  found  the  king  sitting  and  talk- 
ing with  some  gentlemen  of  his  chamber.  He  seemed  pleased  with 
her  visit,  and  addressed  her  in  a  very  obliging  manner ;  and,  break- 
ing off  his  discourse  with  his  attendants,  he  began  of  his  own  accord, 
contrary  to  his  usual  custom,  to  confer  with  her  about  matters  of  reli- 
gion, seeming  as  it  were,  desirous  to  be  resolved  by  the  queen  of  cer- 
tain doubts,  which  he  then  proposed  to  her.  The  queen,  instantly 
perceiving  the  tendency  of  his  discourse,  answered  with  great  humili- 
ty and  submission : 

"  Your  majesty  doth  know  right  well,  neither  am  I  myself  ignorant, 
what  great  imperfection  and  weakness  by  our  first  creation  are  allot- 
ted to  us  women,  so  as  to  be  ordained  and  appointed  as  inferior  and 
subject  to  men  as  our  head,  from  which  head  all  our  directions  ought 
to  proceed  ;  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  endeavor  to  obey  his  commandments,  even  so  also 
made  he  woman  of  man,  of  whom  and  by  whom  she  is  to  be  govern- 
ed, commanded,  and  directed  :  whose  womanly  weakness  and  nat- 
ural imperfections  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  differ- 
ence between  man  and  woman,  and  your  majesty  being  so  excellent 
in  gifts  and  ornaments  of  wisdom  ;  and  I,  a  simple  poor  woman,  so 
much  inferior  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  require  my  judgment?  which,  when  1  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  governor  here  in  earth,  next  under  God,  to  lean  unto." 

"Not  so,  by  St.  Mary !"  replied  the  king,  "  you  are  become  a  doc- 
tor, Kate,  to  instruct  us,  as  we  take  it,  and  not  to  be  instructed  or  di- 
rected by  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  instructer,  or  teacher,  to  her  lord  and  hus- 


CATHARINE    PARR.  35 

band,  but  rather  to  learn  of  her  husband,  and  be  taught  by  him  :  and 
where  I  have,  with  your  majesty's  leave,  presumed  heretofore  to  dis- 
course with  your  majesty,  in  which  I  have  sometimes  seemed  to  dis- 
sent from  you,  I  did  it  not  so  much  to  maintain  my  opinion,  as  to  min- 
ister 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  refer- 
ring myself,  in  all  such  matters,  unto  your  majesty,  as  by  ordinance 
of  nature  it  is  convenient  for  me  to  do." 

"And  it  is  even  so,  sweetheart?"  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,  em- 
bracing her  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  commmen- 
dation. 

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  bedchamber,  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  the  chancellor's  fault  were  not  too 
heinous,  to  pardon  him  for  her  sake. 

"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  dispo- 
sition. 

Thus,  remarkably,  did  Divine  Providence  defend  her  from  the 
snares  and  malice  of  her  enemies,  and  rescue  her  from  this  most  im- 


36  MEMOIRS    OF 

minent  danger,  which  being  over,  she  passed  safely  through  the  re- 
mainder 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 
imbibed,  did  not  correspond  with  the  inspired  writings.  But  though 
she  had  a  considerable  share  of  learning,  joined  to  an  excellent  un- 
derstanding, yet  her  great  modesty  would  not  permit  them  to  be  her 
only  guide  in  matters  of  such  great  importance,  for  she  kept  several 
eminent  divines  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  opportu- 
nity would  permit,  about  the  doctines  of  the  Reformation,  and  the 
abuses  which  were  then  crept  into  the  church,  but  particularly  in 
Lent.  She  had  a  sermon  preached  to  her  every  day  in  the  after- 
noon, in  her  chamber,  which  generally  lasted  about  an  hour,  at  which 
time  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  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  writing.  Her  first  composition  seems 
to  have  been  that  entitled,  '  Queen  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  preface  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  ne- 
cessary consequence,  and  lamented  the  great  scandals  given  by  ma- 
ny 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 
considerable  length,  and  composed  in  imitation  of  the  Psalms  of 
David,  being  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  dread- 
ful, 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 


CATHARINE    PARR.  37 

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 
unsearchable,  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,"  he. 

The  third  Psalm  was  'for  remission  of  sins'  also.  The  fourth, 
'A  complaint  of  a  penitent  sinner  which  is  sore  troubled,  and  over- 
come 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  Christian  prayeth  that  he  may  be  delivered  from  his  ene- 
mies.' 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  gives  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, 
1  Of  the  benefits  of  God,  with  thanks  for  the  same."  To  which  were 
subjoined  the  twenty  second  Psalm,  entitled,  'The  complaint  of  Christ 
on  the  cross,'  and  'a  Psalm  of  Thanksgiving.' 

Then  followed  the  book  of  prayer,  entitled,  'Prayers  or  Medita- 
tions,' wherein  the  mind  is  stirred  up  patiently  to  suffer  all  afflictions 
here,  and  to  set  at  nought  the  vain  prosperity  of  this  world,  and  alway 
to  long  for  everlasting  felicity,  collected  out  of  holy  works,  he. 
These  prayers  were  all  digested,  as  were  the  psalms  aforesaid,  into 
verses  and  sentences,  and  contain  a  great  spirit  of  true  piety  and 
devotion,  sense  of  God,  and  dependence  upon  him ;  and  many  of 
them  were  excellently  suited  to  her  condition.  Then  follow  two 
prayers  for  the  king,  and  for  men  to  say  entering  battle,  the  latter  of 
which  the  queen  very  probably  composed  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  petition,  "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  vic- 
tory, and  that  the  wars  being  soon  ended,  we  may  all  with  one  heart 
and  mind  knit  together  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 


38  MEMOIRS    OF 

work  begins,  "  Wretch  that  I  am,  comfortless  and  forsaken  of  all 
men,  which  have  offended  both  heaven  and  earth,"  he.  Then  fol- 
low in  conclusion  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  excel- 
lent person,  we  shall  present  our  readers  with  a  pious  prayer  of  hers 
composed  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 ! 

"  Grant  me  that  I  may  ever  desire  and  will  that  which  is  most 
pleasant  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  ex- 
pedient 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  honor  ! 

"  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  af- 
fections may  utterly  die,  and  be  mortified  in  me ! 

"  Grant  me,  above  all  things,  that  I  may  rest  in  thee  and  fully  pa- 
cify and  quiet  my  heart  in  thee  ! 

"  For  thou,  Lord,  art  the  very  true  peace  of  heart  and  the  per- 
fect rest  of  the  soul,  and  without  thee  all  things  be  grievous  and  un- 
quiet. 

"  My  Lord  Jesu,  I  beseech  thee,  be  with  me  in  every  place,  and 
at  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,  O  Lord,  from  separation  (desperation)  and  make  me  patiently 
to  bear  thy  will  and  ordinance  ! 

"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  ! 

"  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 ! 


CATHARINE    PARR.  39 

"  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  ! 

"  Keep  me,  Lord,  from  sin,  and  I  shall  then  dread  neither  death 
nor  hell ! 

"  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  ob- 
tain 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  Savior :  and  except  thou  hadst  gone 
before,  and  shewed  us  the  way  to  everlasting  life,  who  would  en- 
deavor 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  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  be- 
seech 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. 

"  Behold  therefore,  good  Lord,  my  weakness  and  consider  my 
frailness  best  known  to  thee  ! 

"  Have  mercy  on  me  and  deliver  me  from  all  iniquity  and  sin,  that 
I  be  not  entangled  therewith  ! 


40  .  MEMOIRS  OF 

"  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  draw  me  not  away  to  consent,  yet  never- 
theless their  assaults  be  very  grievous  unto  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  1  know  my- 
self, 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 
offer eth  me  here. 

"  I  desire  to  have  inward  fruition  in  thee,  but  I  cannot  attain 
thereto." 

The  number  as  well  as  piety  of  these  compositions  sufficiently 
show  how  much  of  her  time  and  thoughts,  amidst  all  the  business  and 
ceremonies  of  her  exalted  station,  were  employed  in  order  to  secure 
her  everlasting  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 
endeavors  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  disposal,  the  University  of  Cambridge  were  filled  with 
terrible  apprehensions ;  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  intreated  her  majesty  to  intercede  with  the  king  for 
their  colleges,  which  accordingly  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  prop- 
erty and  interest  to  them  by  virtue  of  that  act  of  parliament,  he  was, 
she  said,  such  a  patron  to  good  learning,  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  con- 
servation, and  sure  stay  to  him ;  adding,  that  the  prosperous  state  of 
which  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  foras- 
much as  she  well  understood  that  all  kinds  of  learning  flourished 
among  them  as  it  did  among  the  Greeks  at  Athens  long  ago,  she  de- 
sired and  required  them  all  not  so  to  hunger  for  the  exquisite  knowl- 
edge of  profane  learning,  that  it  might  be  thought  that  the  Greek 
University  was  but  transported,  or  now  in  England  again  revived,  for- 
getting our  Christianity,  since  the  excellency  of  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 


CATHARINE  PARR.  4,1 

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 ;  "Non  me  pudet  evangelii"*  and  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  favor.  Indeed 
she  merited  every  instance  of  it  she  could  desire ;  for,  next  to  the 
studies  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  indis- 
positions, so  his  ill  health  joined  such  a  fierceness  of  manners  to  his. 
former  untraceable  disposition,  as  rendered  it  a  task  extremely  diffi- 
cult even  for  his  prime  favorites  to  make  themselves  agreeable  to  him, 
and  preserve  his  esteem;  yet,  such  were  the  amiable  qualities  of  the 
queen,  that  by  a  most  obliging  tenderness,  and  charming  turn  of  con- 
versation, 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  ex- 
traordinary 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 

wisdom  being  in  our  aforesaid  wife  and  queen,  we  bequeath  unto  her 
for  her  proper  use,  and  as  it  shall  please  her  to  order  it,  three  thou- 
sand pounds  in  plate,  jewels,  and  stuff  of  household,  besides  such 
apparel  as  it  shall  please  her  to  take,  as  she  hath  already ;  and  fur- 
ther we  give  unto  her  one  thousand  pounds  in  money,  with  the  en- 
joying her  dowry  and  jointure,  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  pro- 
curing several  learned  persons  to  translate  Erasmus's  paraphrase  on 


am  not  ashamed  of  the  Gospel. 

6 


42  MEMOIRS  OF 

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  the  fol- 
lowing epistle  in  Latin  to  that  princess : 

"Cum  multa  sint,  nobilissima  ac-amantissima  Domina,  qua?  me 
facile  invitant  hoc  tempore  ad  scribendum,  nihil  tamen  perinde  me 
movit  atque  cura  valetudinis  tuse,  quem,  ut  spero,  esse  optimam,  ita 
de  eadem  certiorem  fieri,  magnopere  cupio.  Quare  mitto  hunc 
nuntium  quem  judico  fere  tibi  gratissimum,  turn  propter  artem  illam 
musicse,  qua?  te  simul  ac  me  oppido  oblectari  non  ignoro ;  turn  quod 
a  me  profectus  tibi  certissime  referre  possit  de  omni  statu  ac  valetu- 
dine  mea.  Atque  sane  in  animo  fuit  ante  hunc  diem  iter  ad  te  fe- 
cisse,  atque  coram  salutasse,  verum  voluntati  meae  non  omnia  respon- 
derunt.  Nunc  spero  hac  hyeme,  idque  propediem  propius  nos  esse 
congressuras.  Quo  sane  mini  nihil  erit  jucundum  magis,  aut  magis 
volupte. 

"Cum  autem,  ut  accepi,  summa  jam  manus  imposita  sit  per  Ma- 
letum  operi  Erasmico  in  Johannem,  quod  ad  tralationem  spectat,  ne- 
que  quicquam  nunc  restet,  nisi  ut  justa  quaedam  diligentia  ac  cura 
adhibeatur  in  eodem  corrigendo  te  obsecro,  ut  opus  hoc  pulcherri- 
mum  atque  utilissimum  jam  emendatum  per  Maletum  aut  aliquem 
tuorum,  ad  me  transmitti  cures,  quo  suo  tempore  prelo  dari  possit ; 
atque  porro  significes  an  tuo  nomine  in  lucem  felicissime  exire  velis, 
an  potius  incerto  autore.  Cui  operas  mea  sane  opinione  injuriam 
facere  videberis  si  tui  nominis  autoritate  etiam  posteris  commenda- 
tum  iri  recusaveres  in  quo  accuratissime  transferendo  tanto  labores 
summo  reipublica?  bono  suscepisti,  pluresque,  ut  satis  notum  est,  sus- 
ceptura,  si  valetudo  corporis  permisisset.  Cum  ergo  in  hac  re  abs 
te  laboriose  admodum  sudatum  fuisse  nemo  non  intelligat  cur  quam 
omnes  tibi  merito  deferant  laudem  rejicias,  non  video.  Attamen  ego 
hanc  rem  omnem  ita  relinquo  prudential  tuae,  ut  quamcunque  velis 
rationem  inire  earn  ego  maxime  approbandam  censuero. 

"  Pro  crumena  quam  ad  me  dono  misisti  ingentes  tibi  gratias  ago. 
Deum  opt.  max.  precor  ut  vera  ac  intaminata  felicitate  perpetuo  te 
beare  dignetur :  in  quo  etiam  diutissime  valeas."  Ex  Hanwortbia, 
20  Septembris.  Tui  studiosissima  ac  amantissima, 

Katharina  Regina  K.  P. 

IN    ENGLISH. 

"  Though  there  are  several  considerations,  my  most  noble  and  be- 
loved 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  1  hope  it  is  perfectly  enjoyed  by  you,  so 
I  feel  myself  most  earnestly  desirous  to  receive  assurance  concern- 
ing it.  It  is  for  this  reason  that  I  have  dispatched  this  messenger  to 
you,  who  I  doubt  not  will  be  most  welcome,  both  on  account  of  his 


CATHARINE    PARR.  43 

eminent  skill  in  music,  which  I  know  is  a  most  delightful  entertain- 
ment to  both  of  us,  and  as  he  will  be  able,  coming  immediately  from 
me,  to  give  you  certain  information  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  promise  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 
order  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  auspicious  to  the  work,  to  have  it  published  with  your  name, 
or  anonymously.  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  endeavor,  by  suppressing  your 
name,  to  decline  the  honor  which  they  will  so  deservedly  confer  up- 
on you.  But  I  leave  the  whole  affair  so  entirely  to  your  prudence, 
that  I  shall  readily  fall  in  with  whatever  method  may  seem  most  eli- 
gible 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  Sep- 
tember. 

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  destruc- 
tion of  both  families,  and  must  have  interrupted  the  studies  and  con- 
templations of  this  excellent  lady,  now  embarked  with  them,  so  that 
after  this  marriage  we  find  no  more  of  the  pious  productions  of  her 


44  memoirs,  he. 

pen,  or  any  thing  considerable,  besides  her  procuring  the  publication 
of  the  above-mentioned  work,  the  Translation  of  Erasmus's  Para- 
phrase on  the  New  Testament  into  English. 

She  lived  but  a  short  time  with  this  gentleman ;  for  after  being 
delivered  of  a  daughter  she  died  in.  childbed  in  the  month  of  Sep- 
tember, 1548,  not  without  snspicion  of  poison,  as  several  of  our 
writers  observe.  And,  indeed,  she  herself  was  apprehensive  of  un- 
fair dealings,  and  roundly  reproached  the  admiral  on  her  death-bed 
for  his  great  unkindness  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,  Franciae,  et  Hiberniae  Reginae, 
dorninae  mere  clementissimae,  epitaphium.     Anno  1548. 

Hoc  Regina  novo  dormit  Catharina  sepulchro, 

Sexus  foeminei  flos,  honor,  atque  decus. 
Haec  fuit  Henrico  conjux  fidissimaRegi, 

Quern  postquam  e  vivis  Parca  tulisset  atrox 
Thomae  Seymero,  (cui  tu,  Neptune,  tridentum 

Porrigis)  eximio  nupserat  ilia  viro. 
Huic  perperit  natam  :  a  partu  cum  septimus  orbem 

Sol  illustrasset  raorstruculenta  necat : 
Defunctam  madidis  famuli  deflemus  ocellis  ; 

Humectat  tristes  terra  Britanna  genas. 
Nos  infelices  moeror  consumit  acerbus : 

Inter  ccelestes  gaudet  at  ilia  choros. 

IN  ENGLISH. 

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  ring, 
She  prov'd  a  most  accomplished  wife, 
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  travelled  o'er 
For  sev'n  successive  days  the  skies, 
A  breathless  corpse  the  mother  lies. 
Her  family  her  loss  bemoans, 
Britannia  echoes  to  their  groans : 
In  night  and  griefs  we  pine  away  ; 
She  triumphs  in  the  blaze  of  day, 
And  with  th'  angelic  choirs  above, 
Attunes  the  harp  to  joy  and  love. 


45 


THE    RIGHT    HONORABLE 

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  son  of 
a  younger  brother,  and  to  no  other  heritage  than  what  is  expressed  in 
the  words, 

God's  Providence  is  my  Inheritance, 

which  as  a  motto  he  inscribed  on  the  magnificent  buildings  he  erect- 
ed, and  indeed  ordered  to  be  placed  on  his  tomb. 

By  that  Providence  succeeding  his  unremitting  and  wise  industry 
he  raised  himself  to  such  honor  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  discover  no  blemish  in  it,  and  that 
only  shone  the  brighter  by  the  malignant  attempts  made  to  obscure 
and  debase  it. 

The  mother  of  our  lady  was  Catharine,  only  daughter  of  Sir 
GeofFry  Fenton,  principal  secretary  of  state  in  Ireland.  She  was 
married  to  Mr.  Boyle,  July  25,  1603,  and  obtained  this  most  hon- 
orable 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  thou- 
sand pounds  in  gold  with  her.  But  that  gift  of  his  daughter  unto  me 
I  must  ever  thankfully  acknowledge,  as  the  crown  of  all  my  bless- 
ings, 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."* 

By  that  excellent  lady  the  Earl  of  Cork  had  fifteen  children. 
The  Hon.  Robert  Boyle,  famous  as  a  philosopher,  more  famous  as 
a  Christian,  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  to- 
wards 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. 


*  Birch's  Life  of  the  Hon.  Robert  Boyle,  p.  10. 


46  MEMOIRS    OF 

As  to  her  entrance  upon  religion,  or  making  it  her  business  in 
good  earnest,  though  she  had  received  a  good  education,  and  had 
been  instructed  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  was  married.  Nay,  she  declared  that  she 
came  into  the  family  in  which  she  lived  and  died  with  so  much  honor, 
with  prejudices  and  strange  apprehensions  as  to  matters  of  religion, 
and  was  almost  affrighted  with  the  disadvantageous  accounts  she  had 
received  concerning  it ;  but  when  she  came  to  see  the  regular  per- 
formance 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 
favor  of  her  right  honorable  father  in-law,  who  had  always  an  extra- 
ordinary 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  us  of  two  more  remote  means  of 
her  conversion, — afflictions  and  retirement.  Divine  wisdom  and 
grace  may  be  very  adorable  in  adapting  suitable  means  to  accom- 
plish the  good  purposes  of  God  towards  men  ;  and  afflictions  and 
retirement,  in  this  lady's  circumstances,  appeared  to  be  admirably 
chosen  out  by  Providence  for  her.  Her  great  impediment  and  diffi- 
culty 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  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  ren- 
dering insipid,  through  her  afflictions,  what  had  too  much  attached 
her  regards ;  and  by  granting  her  an  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  pleasantnesss,  and  that  all  her 
paths  are  peace  ;"  Prov.  iii.  17  ;  which,  indeed,  she  would  fre- 
quently 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  encouraging  them  to  make  the  ex- 
periment, 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  shewing  the 
danger  of  procrastination,  the  putting  off,  and  stifling  convictions, 
seemed  to  turn  the  wavering  trembling  balance,  and  to  fix  the  scale 
of  her  resolution. 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  WARWICK.  47 

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  ac- 
curately with  God  ;  and  very  few,  if  any,  from  what  was  seen  in  her, 
ever  chose  the  better  part  with  more  resolution,  or  more  unreserved- 
ly devoted  themselves  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  Savior  Jesus  Christ. 

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  builder  in  the  gospel,  Luke,  xiv.  28,  sat  down  and  consid- 
ered with  herself  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 
delude  and  shame  her,  and  whether  her  evidences  for  heaven  were 
such  as  would  abide  the  test,  and  be  approved  by  Scripture.  On 
this  most  important  and  interesting  concern  she  drew  up  a  paper  with 
her  own  hand,  which  a  good  judge,  to  whom  she  privately  commu- 
nicated it,  declared  to  be  judiciously,  modestly,  and  humbly  written. 
Having  put  her  hand  to  the  plough,  she  looked  not  back,  but  minded 
religion  as  her  business  indeed,  and  never  gave  so  much  as  the  suspi- 
cion of  her  trifling  in  so  solemn  and  momentous  a  work. 

As  to  the  various  exercises  of  religion,  or  the  practice  of  it,  it  ap- 
peared to  be  her  great  design  to  walk  worthy  of  God  in  all  well-pleas- 
ing, to  adorn  her  professed  subjection  to  the  gospel  by  a  conversation 
becoming  it,  and  to  shew  forth  his  virtues  and  praises  who  had  called 
her  into  his  marvellous  light. 

According  she  was  very  careful  and  circumspect  in  abstaining  from 
all  appearance  of  evil.  In  all  doubtful  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  what  was  any  way  dubious  as  to  its  lawfulness,  alone. 
While,  therefore,  none  were  further  from  censuring  others,  or  usurp- 
ing judgment  over  their  liberties,  yet  for  herself  she  would  never  al- 
low herself  the  addition  of  an  artificial  beauty,  using  neither  paint  nor 
patches  ;  neither  would  she  play  at  any  games,  because,  besides  ma- 
ny 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  de- 
pendence 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. 


48  MEMOIRS  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 
seldom  come  among  them,  and  never  look  after  them." 

Many  years  before  her  death  she  began  to  keep  a  diary,  consult- 
ing two  persons,  whom  she  used  to  call  her  soul  friends,  concerning 
the  best  manner  of  performing  it.  She  at  first  wrote  her  diary  every 
evening ;  but  finding  the  evening  inconvenient,  from  her  lord's  long 
illness,  which  occasioned  her  many  inevitable  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  providences  to  her- 
self, and  sometimes  to  others,  the  gracious  manifestations  of  God  to 
her  soul,  answers  of  prayer,  temptations  resisted,  or  prevailing,  or 
whatever  might  be  useful  for  caution  or  encouragement,  or  afford  her 
matter  of  thankfulness  or  humiliation. 

She  used  to  style  prayer  hearfs-ease,  as  she  often  experienced  it ; 
and,  though  her  modesty  was  such,  and  she  was  so  far  from  a  vain 
ostentation  of  her  gifts,  that  a  minister,*  who  was  long  acquainted 
with  her,  says,  "  that  he  could  not  name  one  person  with  whom  she 
prayed ;  yet,"  adds  he,  "  I  can  say  that  she  was  not  only  constant  and 
abundant  in  prayer,  but  mighty  and  fervent  in  it ;  for,  as  she  some- 
times used  her  voice,  she  hath  been  overheard  in  her  devotions ;  and 
her  own  lord,  knowing  her  hours  of  prayer,  once  conveyed  a  grave 
and  judicious  minister  into  a  secret  place  within  hearing,  who  much 
admired  her  humble  fervency."  In  praying  she  prayed,  and,  when 
she  used  not  an  audible  voice,  her  sighs  and  groans  would  be  heard 
from  her  closet.  On  the  very  day  before  she  died  she  shut  up  her- 
self above  an  hour,  which  she  spent  in  fervent  private  prayer,  not- 
withstanding her  indisposition.  Indeed  prayer  was  the  very  element 
in  which  she  lived,  and  actually  died  ;  or  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  comtemplations  choosing  some  particular  subject,  which 
she  would  press  upon  her  heart  with  the  most  intense  thought,  till  she 
had  drawn  out  its  juice  and  nourishment ;  and  in  occasional  medita- 
tions like  a  bee  extracting  honey  from  all  occurrences ;  whole  vol- 
umes of  which  she  hath  left  behind  her. 


*  Dr.  Anthony  Walker,  rector  of  Fyfield  in  Essex.  He  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  ladyship'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  compostions. 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  WARWICK.  49 

After  she  had  consecrated  the  day  with  reading  the  Scriptures, 
prayer,  and  meditation,  a  short  dressing  time,  and  ordering  her  do- 
mestic 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  example  to  her  whole  family. 

She  was  a  strict  observer  of  the  Lord's  day,  which  may  be  truly 
considered  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  forget- 
ful, fruitless  hearer,  but  being  a  doer,  that  she  might  be  blessed  in  her 
deed  :  James  i.  25. 

Nor  was  she  less  solicitous  to  make  others  good  than  to  be  good 
herself.  She  well  remembered  our  Savior'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  her- 
self 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  en- 
gaged to  promote  religion  with  the  utmost  industry,  which,  that  she 
might  accomplish  with  greater  advantage,  she  would  in  company  in- 
troduce 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  collec- 
tion, that  suited  with,  or  was  not  very  remote  from,  what  was  talked 
of,  and  by  commending,  or  improving,  that  she  would  turn  the  conver- 
sation into  a  useful  channel  without  offense,  and  even  with  pleasure. 
She  indeed  kept  a  book  of  such  weighty  sayings  ;  much  valuing  sen- 
tences 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. 

O  Lord,  who  givest  grace  to  the  humble,  give  me  grace  to  be 
humble. 

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. 

7 


50  MEMOIRS    OF 

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. 

It  is  a  great  honor  to  be  almoner  to  the  King  of  heaven.  To  give 
is  the  greatest  luxury.  How  indulgent  then  is  God  to  annex  future 
rewards  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  be- 
lieve 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  life  that  begins  with  a  cry,  and  ends  with 
a  groan  ? 

Where  this  excellent  lady  had  particular  kindness,  or  personal  in- 
terest, 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  cannot  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  na- 
ture insnared  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  commit  sin,  but  it  is  worse  to  plead  for  it, 
and  defend  it.  None  sin  so  dangerously  as  those  who  sin  with  ex- 
cuses. 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  be  possesses  in  our  hearts.  I 
take  it  for  granted,  that  all  other  holds  were  quitted  easily,  could 
you  conquer  such  or  such  a  vice,  too  much  by  custom  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  judg- 
ment ;  though  hand  join  in  hand,  you  know  what  follows.  No  ex- 
ample, custom,   number,   should   have  power  over  us  which  cannot 


THE    COUNTESS    OF    WARWICK.  51 

excuse  and  secure  us.  But  this  is  the  mischief  of  sin  lived  in  ;  it 
bewitches  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  endeavors  to  be  rid  of  it.  But,  my  friend,  you  must  leave 
it;  there  is  no  remedy,  though  it  cost  you  trouble,  smart,  and  self- 
denial.  There  is  as  much  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  authority,  and 
believe  his  word,  and  attend  his  worship  ;  why  should  1  despair  of 
making  one  part  of  yourself  agree  with  the  other,  your  practice  with 
your  convictions,  your  conversation  with  your  conscience  ?  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  tem- 
per, I  shall  attack  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,  obli- 
ging, Oh !  how  can  you  be  so  unkind  and  so  ungrateful  to  God  Al- 
mighty, 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 
any  thing  else,  would  do  me  the  honor  to  take  my  word  for  him, 
who,  I  assure  you,  upon  your  sincere  repentance,  will  be  fully  recon- 
ciled to  you  in  Christ,  and  never  so  much  as  upbraid  your  past  neg- 
lects, 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 
deprived  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  perfec- 
tion, have  no  delight  becaase  they  have  no  flesh,  no  sense,  no  bodies, 


52  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  beyond  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  object  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 
eternal  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  therefore ;  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  more." 

Thus,  and  much  more  powerfully,  would  our  lady's  zeal  for  their 
good,  cause  her  to  argue  with  her  friends,  that  she  might  by  holy 
violence  attract  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  exact- 
ing their  attendance  on  the  public  worship  of  God,  and  reverent  be- 
havior 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  hundred  and  first  psalm  the  rule  of  her  economics ;  and 
though  she  treated  all  her  servants  as  friends,  yet  they  were  her  fa- 
vorites which  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  com- 
mendation, 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  safe- 
ly 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  orna- 
ment to  a  man.     She  always  lived  with  the  sense  of  the  covenant 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  WARWICK.  63 

of  God  which  was  between  them,  upon  her  heart.  She  was  an  equal 
mixture  of  affectionate  obedience  and  obedient  affection.  She  cov- 
ered and  concealed  his  infirmities,  deeply  sympathized  in  his  long  in- 
dispositions, attended  and  relieved  him  with  the  greatest  tenderness, 
and  above  all  loved  his  soul,  and  would  both  counsel  him  with  a  pru- 
dent zeal,  and  pray  for  him  with  the  strongest  ardor  and  fervency. 
And  he  was  not  wanting  in  her  just  praises.  He  hath  with  vehement 
protestations  declared,  "he  had  rather  have  her  with  five  thousand 
pounds,  though  she  brought  him  much  more,  than  any  woman  living 
with  twenty."  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  hundred  sons."  But  actions  speak  louder  than  words  :  he  gave 
her  his  whole  estate,  as  an  honorable  testimony  of  his  grateful  esteem 
of  her  merits  towards  him,  and  left  her  sole  executrix.  Which  trust, 
though  it  cost  her  almost  unspeakable  labor  and  difficulties,  she  dis- 
charged with  such  indefatigable  pains,  such  conscientious  exactness, 
and  amazing  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  honorable  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  con- 
cerning her,  that  though  none  were  more  ready  to  recede  from  their 
own  right  terminating  in  personal  interests,  yet  that  she  was  very 
strict  and  tenacious  in  whatever  might  concern  her  successors,  usu- 
ally 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  be- 
fore her,  and  afterwards  of  three  young  ladies  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 


*  Her  historian  tells  us  that  she  was  never  the  mother  of  more  than  two  chHdren  ; 
a  daughter,  who  died  young,  and  this  promising  young  gentleman,  whom  he  here 
mentions  with  honor. 


54  MEMOIRS    OF 

pains ;  and  I  love  to  see  them  thrive  and  live  comfortably,  and  I  can- 
not bear  to  see  them  brought  into  straits,  and  would  therefore,  with- 
out grudging  or  difficulty,  have  all  things  made  convenient  for  them." 
And  if  they  had  sustained  any  considerable  losses,  she  would  effec- 
tually consider  them.  As  for  her  copyhold  tenants,  she  would  urge 
with  warmth  the  timely  finishing  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 
shew  for  their  estates."  A  piece  of  justice  this,  not  more  honorable 
than  necessary  in  lords  and  ladies  of  manors. 

As  a  neighbor  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  conse- 
crate to  God  of  their  substance.  The  minister  told  her,  "  that  it 
was  hard,  if  not  impossible,  to  fix  a  rule  which  should  hold  universal- 
ly, and  that  the  circumstances  in  which  persons  stood,  their  quali- 
ties, their  incomes,  their  dependencies,  must  be  considered,  neces- 
sary and  emergent  occasions  inevitably  occurring."  On  her  insist- 
ing 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  cir- 
cumstances, suggested,  "  that  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  constantly  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. 


THE  COUNTESS  OF  WARWICK.  DO 

When  she  came  to  the  possession  of  the  very  large  estate  her 
lord  bequeathed  her  for  her  life,  she  in  good  measure  realized  what 
a  great  person  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  satisfac- 
tion, as  she  declared,  that  she  took  in  such  large  possessions  being 
put  into  her  hands,  was  the  opportunity  they  afforded  her  of  doing 
e;ood  ;  and  she  averred  that  she  should  not  accept  of,  or  be  encum- 
bered with  the  greatest  estate  in  England,  if  it  should  be  offered  her, 
if  it  was  clogged  with  this  condition,  that  she  was  not  to  do  good  to 
others  with  it. 

Such  was  the  amiable  and  exemplary  life  of  the  Countess 
of  Warwick.  It  remains  that  some  account  should  be  given  of  her 
death. 

What  presages  she  had  of  its  near  approach  she  never  discovered, 
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  watch- 
ful kindness  of  Providence  over  the  people  of  God,  alarming  them 
to  trim  their  lamps,  as  the  wise  virgins  did,  against  the  coming  of  the 
bridegroom,  and  allowing  them  fit  opportunities  to  do  it,  as  Provi- 
dence signally  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 
dissolution  were  impressed  upon  her  soul  in  a  remarkable  manner, 
though  at  that  time  there  were  no  visible  symptoms  of  it  upon  her 
body. 

"March  24,  1678. — As  soon  as  I  awoke  I  blessed  God.  I  then 
meditated  and  endeavored,  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  than  ordinary 
manner  excited  to  admire  God  for  his  goodness,  and  to  love  him. 
I  found  his  love  make  deep  impressions  on  me,  and  melting  me  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  the  sacraments,  and  for  free  grace,  and  the  covenant  of  grace,  and 


56  MEMOIRS    OF 

for  the  excellent  means  of  it  I  had  enjoyed,  and  for  the  great  patience 
God  has  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.  Woodrooff.  His  text  was,  '  Pass  the  time  of  your  so- 
journing 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  re- 
capitulates, and  then  proceeds :  "  I  was  in  a  serious  frame  at  both 
the  sermons,  and  was  by  them  convinced  of  the  excellency  of  fear- 
ing God,  and  of  employing  the  remainder  of  the  term  of  my  life  in 
his  service,  and  I  resolved  to  endeavor  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  meditations  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  impressions 
upon  me,  and  my  soul  followed  hard  after  God  for  grace  to  serve 
him  better  than  ever  yet  I  had  done. 

u  O  Lord,  be  pleased  to  hear  my  prayers,  which  came  not  out  of 
feigned  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  committed  myself  to  God." 

Our  excellent  lady  was  far  from  being  among  their  number,  whose 
consciences  are  such  bad  and  unquiet  company  that  they  hate  soli- 
tude, 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  press- 
ing necessity,  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  earthly 
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  indis- 
position, loss  of  appetite,  and  aguish  distemper,  and  had  four  or  five  fits, 


THE  COUNTESS   OF  WARWICK.  57 

which  yet,  in  that  season,  were  judged,  both  by  her  physicians  and 
friends,  more  beneficial  to  her  health,  than  threatening  to  her  life. 
She  continued  afterwards  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,  being  this  most  friendly  and  divine  one, 
"  Well,  ladies,  if  I  were  one  hour  in  heaven,  1  would  not  be  again 
with  you,  as  much  as  I  love  you." 

Having  then  received  a  kind  visit  from  a  neighboring  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 
ministers  then  in  the  house  to  pray  with  her ;  and  asking  the  compa- 
ny 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  weakness,  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  devotional ;  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  honor- 
able 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,  according  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 
subjects  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  honor  to  inhabit  the 
courts  of  the  most  glorious  potentates,  for  the  inspired  volumes  tell 
us,  that  they  are  in  kings'  palaces*,  1  am  led  to  consider  that  the  work 
he  is  so  busily  employed  in,  while  he  spins  his  web,  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 


*  Prov.  xxx   28: 
8 


58  MEMOIRS,  8iC. 

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  pro- 
fessor, 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  therefore  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  ordinance,  and  to  Christ  in  a  promise  for  strength  by  which  to 
work,  and  thus  obtains  it,  and  this  makes  his  work  yield  honey,  and 
turn  to  advantage. 

O  Lord,  I  most  humbly  beseech  thee  let  me  not  dare  to  work  for 
myself,  but  let  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  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 ! 

We  shall  now  give  one  of  her  pious  reflections  on  several  passages 
of  Scripture. 

REFLECTION    ON    PSALM    Cxix,   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  1  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  beseech  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  towards  heaven ! 


2  Pet.  ii.  8. 


59 


LADY   ELIZABETH   BROOKE. 


This  lady  was  born  at  Wigsale  in  Sussex,  January,  1601.  Her 
father  was  Thomas  Culpepper,  of  Wigsale,  esquire,  a  branch  of  an 
ancient,  genteel  family  of  that  name,  which  was  afterwards  in  her 
brother  advanced  to  the  rank  of  the  nobility.  He  was  created  a  bar- 
on by  King  Charles  the  First,  with  the  title  of  John  Lord  Culpep- 
per, of  Thoresway.  Her  mother  was  the  daughter  of  Sir  Stephen 
Slaney. 

Thus  she  had  thG  favor  of  an  honorable  extraction,  and  a  noble 
alliance ;  and  as  her  family  conferred  an  honor  upon  her,  so  she  re- 
flected an  additional  glory  upon  her  family  by  her  great  virtues,  hav- 
ing 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  fatherless. 

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  reten- 
tive memory. 

She  was  married  very  young,  about  nineteen,  to  Sir  Robert  Brooke, 
knt.  descended  from  a  younger  brother  of  the  ancient  and  noble  fam- 
ily of  the  Brookes,  formerly  Lord  Cobham.  Sir  Robert  was  a  per- 
son 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  Langly  in  Hertfordshire, 
a  seat  which  Sir  Robert  purchased  purposely  for  his  lady's  accom- 
modation, that  she  might  be  near  her  friends  in  London.  After  some 
years'  residence  there,  they  came  to  Cockfield  in  Suffolk,  his  pater- 
nal seat,  where  she  passed  the  residue  of  her  life,  excepting  the  two 
first  years  of  her  widowhood.  In  all  these  places  she  lived  an  emi- 
nent example  of  goodness,  and  left  a  good  name  behind  her,  and  es- 
pecially in  the  last,  where  she  passed  the  most,  and  best  of  her  time, 
and  whence  her  soul  was  translated  to  heaven. 


60  MEMOIRS  OF 

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  excelled. 

To  which  general  head  the  following  particulars  may  be  referred, 
as  the  distinct  jewels  in  her  crown  of  righteousness. 

She  devoted  herself  to  God  and  religion  very  early  in  life,  remem- 
bering her  Creator  in  the  days  of  her  youth,  and  making  haste,  and 
delaying  not  to  keep  his  commandments.  And  as  she  begun,  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  honor  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, 
rendered  her  one  of  the  most  intelligent  persons  of  her  sex,  especial- 
ly in  divinity  and  the  holy  Scriptures,  which  made  her  wise  unto  sal- 
vation. 

This  knowledge  of  the  sacred  writings  was  not  confined  to  the 
practical,  but  extended  also  to  the  doctrinal  and  critical  part  of  the 
book  of  God,  even  to  the  difficulties  concerning  Scripture-chronolo- 
gy, 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  discour- 
ses of  theology,  whether  didactical,  polemical,  casuistical,  or  tex- 
tual, that  some  of  her  chaplains  have  professed  that  her  conversation 
has  been  sometimes  more  profitable  and  pleasant  than  their  own  stu- 
dies, and  that  they  themselves  learned,   as  well  as  taught. 

This  perhaps  may  seem  incredible  to  those  who  were  not  acquain- 
ted with  her  ;  but  something  of  the  wonder  will  be  abated,  by  shew- 
ing in  what  manner  she  attained  her  treasures  of  knowledge. 

She  was  an  indefatigable  reader  of  books,  especially  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, and  various  commentators  upon  them,  the  very  best  our  lan- 
guage afforded.  She  had  turned  over  a  multitude  not  only  of  prac- 
tical treatises,  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  philosoph- 
ical. 

She  was  also  a  most  diligent  inquirer,  and  made  use  of  all  learned 
men  of  her  acquaintance,   in  order  to  increase  her  knowledge,   by 


LADY    ELIZABETH    BROOKE.  61 

moving  questions  concerning  the  most  material  things,  as  cases  of 
conscience,  hard  texts  of  Scripture,  and  the  accomplishmant  of 
the  divine  prophecies. 

She  generally  also  took  notes  out  of  the  many  books  she  read, 
that  she  might  with  the  less  labor  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  evening,  and  in  the  following  week  she  had  them  re- 
peated, and  would  discourse  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  knowl- 
edge, or  confirming  what  she  had  already  known. 

Having  thus  acquired  a  great  treasure  of  knowledge,  she  improved 
it,  through  Divine  assistance,  which  she  was  most  ready  to  acknowl- 
edge, 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  herself  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  add- 
ed, that  it  was  also  constant  and  affectionate.  Her  whole  heart  was 
given  up  to  religion,  and  an  holy  zeal  accompanied  it,  which  zeal 
was  guided  by  much  wisdom  and  prudence;  her  prudence  never  de- 
generating into  craft,  there  being  nothing  apparent  in  all  her  conver- 
sation contrary  to  sincerity. 

Her  piety  also  was  serious,  solid  and  substantia],  without  any  tinc- 
ture 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  endeavored  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  congregation.  And  for  their  further  benefit,  she  for  many 
years  together  procured  a  grave  divine  to  perform  the  office  of  a  cat- 
echist  in  her  house,  who  came  constantly  every  fortnight,  and  ex- 
pounded methodically  the  principles  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,  centered  in  one  per- 
son. Thus,  with  Joshua,  she  resolved  that  she  and  her  house  would 
serve  the  Lord. 

With  her  piety  was  joined  much  christian  love,  which  was  univer- 
sal,  and  extended   to   all  mankind  ,  so  that  she  never  suffered  her- 


62  MEMOIRS    OF 

self  to  hate  or  despise,  or  overlook,  unless  in  the  way  of  censure 
for  a  crime,  any  persons  in  the  world,  abhorring  only  what  was  vi- 
cious 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  re- 
gard. 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  accom- 
plishments 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  ambassadors  and  ministers,  the 
guides  of  souls,  receiving  them  in  their  ministrations  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  conscience  as  well  as  law ;  and  was  particularly  tender  in  refer- 
ence to  tithes,  giving  away  all  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  ne- 
cessities, and  in  the  kind  that  was  most  suitable  to  his  particular  wants. 
She  esteemed  herself  only  as  a  steward  of  her  estate,  and  therefore 
gave  away  a  great  portion  of  it  to  encourage  the  ministry,  and  re- 
lieve the  indigent.  She  dispersed  abroad,  and  gave  to  the  poor, 
and  her  righteousness  remains  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  willing- 
ly, 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  pro- 
portion 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  witness- 
es of  her  great  liberality  and  goodness,  by  which  she  adorned  reli- 
gion, 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  management,  with  the  divine  blessing, 
enabled  her  to  perform  both  to  admiration. 


LADV    ELIZABETH    BROOKE.  63 

Her  charity  was  not  only  extended  for  the  relief  of  the  wants  of 
others'  bodies,  but  she  also  most  readily  afforded  counsel  and  com- 
fort 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  required  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  re- 
lieved, and  much  revived.  Very  many  others  she  received  with  the 
greatest  freedom,  ministering  spiritual  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  por- 
tion of  her  time  was  every  day  employed  in  prayer,  in  searching  the 
Scriptures,  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  engage  in  them  as  a  task,  but  she  observ- 
ed 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  complaining  sometimes  of  her  in- 
firmities, and  of  the  difficulty  of  praying  aright,  and  of  preserving 
through  the  duty  a  due  sense  of  God. 

The  Christian  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  at- 
tendance on  these  holy  institutions  were  such  as  that  she  longed  in 
the  week  for  the  return  of  the  Sabbath,  and  great  was  her  affliction 
when  her  hearing  was  so  impaired,  that  she  could  not  attend  the  pub- 
lic worship  of  God,  though  few  were  better  furnished  to  supply  the 
want  by  private  exercises  and  closet  devotions. 

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  fill- 
ed with  wonder  at  the  example  she  exhibited  to  the  world,  she  her- 
self apprehended  that  others  excelled  her  in  grace,  and  godliness, 
and  continually  reckoned  herself  among  the  least  of  saints ;  and  the 
writer  of  her  life*  declares,  "that  notwithstanding  her  quality  in  the 
world,  her  exquisite  knowledge,  eminent  grace,  and  the  high  value 

*  The  Rev.  Nathaniel  Parkhurst,  M.  A.,  vicar  of  Yoxford,  and  chaplain  to  her 
ladyship. 


64  MEMOIRS   OF 

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 
present  life,  and  the  remains  of  sin  in  the  souls  of  them  who  are 
sanctified.  It  was  also  nourished  by  a  great  sight  of  God,  and  ac- 
quaintance with  him,  by  frequent  self-examination,  by  an  observation 
how  sin  mingles  itself  in  our  best  actions  and  most  holy  duties,  and  a 
diligent  trial  of  herself  and  her  conversation  with  the  exact  rules  of 
the  Scriptures. 

This  grace  of  Christian  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  conversation  might  border  upon  those  freedoms  which 
dishonor  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  mo- 
roseness.  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  there- 
by promote  the  glory  of  God,  do  good  to  others,  avoid  offense,  and 
maintain  love  and  peace  in  the  church  and  the  world. 

And  which  may  be  properly  subjoined  to  her  self-denial,  as  a  grace 
equal  to  it,  she  industriously  avoided  censoriousness,  and  endeavored 
to  put  the  best  interpretation  of  both  words  and  actions,  not  lightly 
speaking  evil  of  any,  nor  readily  receiving  an  evil  report.  Above  all 
things  she  abhorred  censoriousness  in  reference  to  preachers  and  ser- 
mons, 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  method,  she  was 
satisfied  so  as  not  to  find  fault.  But  the  discourses  she  preferred 
were  either  discourses  peculiarly  rational,  or  such  as  particularly  il- 
lustrated the  sense  of  Scripture,  or  unfolded  the  excellency  of  the 
gospel,  or  such  as  displayed  Christ  in  his  person,  undertaking,  and 
offices,  or  such  as  discovered  the  difference  between  the  real  and 
almost  Christian,  and  such  as  most  nearly  approached  the  conscience, 
and  urged  the  exactest  conversation,  and  the  government  of  the  heart, 
thoughts,  and  inward  affections. 

In  all  her  relations  she  behaved  herself  as  a  Christian.  She  was 
a  faithful,  dutiful,  affectionate,  and  prudent  wife.  She  was  a  watch- 
ful mother,  restraining  her  children  from  evil,  and  bringing  them  up 
in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord,  most  constantly  endeav- 
oring to  instil  into  their  minds  the  principles  of  justice,  holiness,  and 
charity.     To  them  who  became  her  children  by  marrying  into  her 


LADY    ELIZABETH    BROOKE.  65 

family,  she  was  most  kind,  and  treated  them  as  her  own.  To  her 
servants  and  tenants  she  was  just  and  good ;  and  to  her  neighbors 
she  was,  in  one  word,  all  that  they  could  desire. 

To  her  particular  friends  she  was  endeared  by  her  prudence,  fidel- 
ity, and  almost  excesses  of  love,  and  the  improvement  of  friendship 
to  serve  the  great  puposes  of  religion,  the  honoring  of  God,  and  the 
benefiting  one  another. 

Many  more  things  might  be  added  to  this  account  of  her  attain- 
ments, 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  with- 
out any  tincture  of  levity.  She  was  very  holy  and  humble,  and  thank- 
ful to  God  for  all  his  mercies,  having  a  deep  sense  of  her  need  of 
Christ  the  Mediator,  depending  entirely  upon  his  merits  and  satisfac- 
tion, and  renouncing  all  her  works  in  the  article  of  justification- 

By  these  excellences  she  attained  a  good,  and,  which  she  never 
sought,  a  great  name. 

A  person  of  quality  and  great  learning,  who  loved  to  speak  much 
in  a  few  words,  having  observed  her  gravity,  holiness,  prudence,  and 
freedom  from  all  that  was  little,  humorsome,  or  morose,  declared, 
"that  she  was  a  woman  of  a  generous  piety." 

Another  drew  up  her  character  in  Latin,  in  these  words:  "Ingenio 
mascula,  mente  theologa,  ore  gravis,  corde  sancta,  cultu  intensa,  ca- 
ritate  laeta,  crucis  patiens,  tota  moribus  generosa ;  marito  Sara,  libe- 
ris  Eunice,  nepotibus  Lois,  ministris  Lydia,  hospitibus  Martha, 
pauperibus  Dorcas,  Deo  Anna.' 

IN    ENGLISH. 

She  had  a  mind  great  by  nature, 

And  enriched  with  the  knowledge  of  a  divine, 

She  was  venerable  in  her  aspect, 

Pure  in  heart, 

Intense  in  her  devotions, 

Cheerful  in  her  charity, 

Patient  in  tribulation, 

And  in  the  whole  of  her  behavior  a  complete 

Gentlewoman. 

In  her  concentered  the  various  excellences  of  the  several  eminent 
women  on  sacred  record. 

She  was  a  Sarah  to  her  husband, 

An  Eunice  to  her  children, 

A  Lois  to  her  grandchildren, 

9 


66  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  hus- 
band, with  a  numerous  family,  and  a  very  plentiful  estate  during  his 
life,  and  a  competent  revenue  afterwards  in  her  widowhood  ;  a  fine 
temperament  of  body,  so  that  she  was  seldom  sick  though  never 
strong ;  the  continuance  of  her  powers,  the  vigor  of  her  intellect,  and 
the  firmness  of  her  judgment,  even  in  the  last  years  of  her  life ;  the 
respects  and  civilities  she  received  from  the  gentry  in  her  neighbor- 
hood ;  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  interrup- 
tions of  doubts  and  fears,  was  generally  firm  and  steady,  and  was 
sometimes  advanced  into  joys  and  strong  consolation. 

Her  afflictions  were  chiefly  widowhood,  and  the  loss  of  children. 
The  sharpest  of  all  her  trials  was  me  untimely  death  of  her  last  son, 
with  the  aggravating  circumstance  of  it,  that  of  his  being  drowned. 
This  great  affliction  came  upon  her  like  an  inundation  of  waters, 
threatening;  all  the  banks  of  reason  and  grace;  but  the  presence  and 
power  of  God  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  behavior  under  this  sad  providence  was 
truly  Christian.  She  did  not  murmur,  though  at  first  she  was  aston- 
ished, and  afterwards  much  depressed  by  it.  Her  danger  was  that 
of  fainting  under  the  correcting  hand  of  God  ;  but  she  was  upheld 
by  him  who  is  able  to  succor  them  that  are  tempted.  She  often  ex- 
pressed herself  in  words  importing  that  she  justified  God,  and  ac- 
knowledged his  righteousness  in  the  dispensation.  She  feared  lest 
some  might  be  scandalized,  and  reflect  upon  religion,  and  decline  it, 
because  of  her  deep  affliction,  and  she  most  earnestly  desired  that 
God  would  take  care  of  his  own  name  and  glory.  Afterwards  her 
spirit  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  endurance  of  which  patience   had   its  perfect  work.     During 


LADY    ELIZABETH    BROOKE.  67 

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  for  Practice, 
which,  being  a  most  lively  image  of  her  mind,  may  supply  the  de- 
fects 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  BROOKE. 

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  ivill  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  re- 
gret, 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. 

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  especial  presence  of  God  with  us ;  and  whenever 
by  faith  we  attain  any  lively  apprehensions  of  it,  how  solemn,  profit- 
able, and  delightful  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 ! 
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. 


68  MEMOIRS  OF 

V.  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  endeavored, 
and  is  the  life  of  the  duty.  I  find  it  hard  to  keep  my  soul  intent, 
for  ray  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. 

VI.  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  apprehen- 
sions, and  keep  me  from  an  unspeakable  delight  in  my  addresses  to 
God.  What  an  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  thereof!  Could  I  but  man- 
age this  great  duty  as  I  ought,  it  would  be  an  heaven  upon  earth,  it 
would  bring  God  down  to  me,  or  carry  me  up  to  him.  Why  should 
I  not  be  carried  above  the  world,  when  I  am  so  near  to  God  ?  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 
animates  the  unregenerate  part.  Constancy  in  this  duty  breeds  an 
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  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  observe,  I  must  acknowledge  I  have  daily  answers  of 
my  prayers  in  some  kind  or  other.  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  Acquaintance  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 


LADY  ELIZABETH  BROOKE.  09 

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  filled  up  with  a  going  to  and  a  return- 
ing from  God. 

X.   The  real  Christian  loves  Solitude. 

Solitude  is  no  burthen  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- 
denial,  but  in  the  very  enjoyment  of  God.  His  fellowship  is  with 
the  Father  and  with  the  Son.  He  every  where,  and  in  every  thing, 
seeks  out  God.  In  ordinances,  duties,  and  providences,  whether 
prosperous  or  adverse,  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  in- 
tellectual touch,  which  carnal  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  from  the  afflicting,  discomposing  apprehensions  of  it.  It  is  of  great 
service  to  the  Christian,  it  takes  off  the  soul  from  carnal  pleasures, 
covetous  desires,  and  ambitious  pursuits,  and  assists  patience  and  con- 
tentment. 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. 


70  v         MEMOIRS  OF 

It  excites  to  frequent  examination,  quickens  repentance,  and  suffers 
him  not  to  continue  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  sweet- 
ens all  labor,  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  religion  and  zeal  for  God,  can  justify  your  not  loving  any  per- 
son in  the  world.  Treat  all  men  with  kindness,  and  wish  them  well. 
Do  them  good  according  to  their  necessity,  and  your  power  and  op- 
portunity. If  persons  be  above  you,  express  your  love  to  them,  by 
paying  them  the  honor  and  observance  their  place  and  authority 
call  for.  If  they  are  in  worldly  respects  beneath  you,  manifest  your 
love  by  kindness,  affability,  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,  shew  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,  shew 
your  love  by  stopping  and  rebuking  the  defamation. 

II.  Be  very  careful  not  to  harbor  any  evil  affection  in  your  heart 
against  any  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  harbored  in  your  mind  you  will  prevent 
the  blessed  illapses  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  open  a  wide  door  for 
the  entrance  of  the  devil  into  your  soul ;  and  indeed  an  unkind  dis- 
position 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.  Look  upon  all  unavoidable  temptations  as  opportunities  for  an 
high  exercise  of  grace.  Are  you  injured  ?  be  sorry  for  him  who  has 
done  the  wrong,  and  bless  God  for  the  opportunity  of  shewing  your- 
self hereby  to  be  a  Christian,  by  patient  bearing,  forgiving,  doing 
good  against  evil,  treating  your  adversary  with  meekness,  and  break- 


LADY    ELIZABETH    BROOKE.  ,       ]       71 

ing  his  heart  with  love.     Every  provocation  is  a  price  in  your  hand  ; 
get  an  heart  to  improve  it. 

V.  Put  a  due  value  upon  your  name  and  reputation,  but  be  not 
over  solicitious  about  it,  for  that  discovers  some  unmortified  lust  at 
the  bottom. 

VI.  Pursue  piety  under  the  notion  of  an  imitation  of  God,  and 
then  so  great  a  pleasure  will  result  from  it,  that  neither  men  nor  dev- 
ils 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. 

VII.  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  imperfection. 

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  enter- 
tainment, 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  providen- 
ces 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 
endeavor  to  prevent  them  in  the  week  to  come. 


72 


LADY  ALICE  LUCY, 


This  lady  was  honorably  descended,  though  the  particulars  of 
her  pedigree  are  not  related  in  the  Memoirs  we  have  met  with  con- 
cerning 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  an  husband  can  wish  for  in  a  wife, 
she  received  as  much  honor  as  she  could  expect,  or  desire. 

After  this  honorable  pair  had  lived  together  in  this  near  relation 
for  thirty  years  with  much  endearment  and  delight,  it  pleased  God  to 
dissolve  the  tie,  by  taking  away  her  support  and  honor,  far  dearer  to 
her  than  her  very  life.  But  it  pleased  God  also  to  shew  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  admirable  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  spirit- 
ual advantage.  It  was  her  great  affliction  that  she  could  not  visit  the 
house  of  God,  and  attend  upon  the  public  ordinances,  where  God 
hath  promised  his  presence,  and  where  we  may  expect  his  blessing. 
But  because  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  prevent- 
ed by  extraordinary  weakness,  heard  the  preaching  of  the  word, 
strictly  requiring  the  presence  of  all  her  family,  and  shewing  herself 
an  example  of  great  reverence,  and  singular  attention. 

Her  first  employment  every  day  was  her  humble  addresses  to  Al- 
mighty 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  au- 
thors. No  sooner  did  she  hear  of  the  publication  of  any  pious,  book, 
but  she  endeavored  to  make  it  her  own,  and  to  make  herself  the  bet- 
ter by  it. 

She  spent  much  time  in  reading,  and  was  able  to  give  a  good  ac- 
count 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  caus- 
ed every  day  to  read  some  portions  both  of  the  Old  and  New  Test- 


MEMOIRS,    &IC.  73 

ament  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  chil- 
dren 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  exhorting  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  lodging-room,  where  they 
joined  in  singing  a  psalm,  as  the  servants  did  also  constantly  after  sup- 
per 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  maternal 
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  children  after  her.  Some  of  them  tasted  death  before  their  dear 
mother;  yet  she  left  ten  behind  her,  five  sons  and  five  daughters, 
who  were  all  present  at  her  funeral,  and  who  all,  with  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  or- 
nament 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  endeavors  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  heav- 
en, 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  appellation  of  the  Apostle,  2  John, 
i.  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  neg- 

10 


74  MEMOIRS    OF 

lected  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  neigh- 
boring 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  pur- 
chase. She  allowed  certain  meals  in  her  house  to  several  poor 
neighbors,  whose  want  was  visible  in  their  pale  faces ;  and,  when 
they  had  by  her  bounty  recovered  their  former  complexion,  and  had 
received,  as  it  were,  a  new  life  by  her  means,  she  with  pleasure  de- 
clared, "that  the  sight  of  such  an  happy  alteration  in  them  did  her 
as  much  good  as  any  thing  which  she  herself  had  eaten." 

She  continually  employed  many  aged  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 
inquire  of  him  whether  there  were  any  sick  persons  in  the  town, 
that,  if  there  were  any,  they  might  enjoy  the  same  helps  with  her- 
self. But  at  all  times,  if  any  persons  were  ill,  and  she  had  intelli- 
gence 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  judg- 
ment 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 
labor  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,"  James  ". 
27,  "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  exemplified  in  her;  for  as  we  have  seen 
that  she  visited  the  fatherless  and  widows,  "  so  she  kept  herself  un- 
spotted 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  from  the  dominion  of  it,  and  from  all  such  acts 
as  would  have  cast  a  dishonor  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  prevalent  weeds, 
but  richly  replenished  with  all  manner  of  fragrant  flowers  and  delicate 
fruits.  Or  she  might  be  resembled  to  the  glorious  sun,  which  is  not 
only  free  from  spots,  but  full  of  light.  As  Boaz  saith  to  Ruth, 
Ruth  iii.  11,  that  all  the  city  knew  that  she  was  a  virtuous  woman; 
so  it  might  be  said,  that  all  the  country  knew  that  this  was  the  de- 
served character  of  this  eminent  lady. 


LADY    ALICE    LUCY.  75 

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  docta  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 
bodv  quietly  slept  in  the  Lord,  anno  Christi,  1648. 

Such  were  her  humility  and  modesty,  that,  although  in  that  mag- 
nificent 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  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  concern- 
ing her  than  this,  "her  observance  of  her  dearest  husband,  while  she 
enjoyed  him,  and  her  remembrance  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  forbid- 
den by  her  excessive  modesty  to  make  their  appearance  on  that 
marble. 


Ovidius  de  Pont. 


76 


THE    RIGHT    HONORABLE 
L.AJ3Y   FRANCES   HOBART. 


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  Honorable  John  Earl  of 
Bridgewater,  Viscount  Brackley,  and  Lord  Ellesmere,  Lord  Presi- 
dent of  Wales,  by  his  noble  Lady,  Frances,  daughter  of  the  Right 
Honorable  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  persuaded  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  sta- 
tion 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  removal  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  af- 
fairs of  a  family ;  qualifications  which  in  future  time  proved  of  extra- 
ordinary advantage  both  to  herself  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  one  Mr.  Moor,  her  father's  chaplain, 
and  partly  by  the  superintending  care  of  the  earl  her  father,  fully  in- 
structed in  the  principles  of  religion  ;  as  to  which  she  would  often 
mention  with  particular  honor  her  father  and  her  governess,  and  the 
last  especially,  for  the  good  histories  she  would  tell  her,  and  the  good 
counsel  she  instilled  into  her.  She  gratefully  remembered  how  ex- 
actly 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. 


MEMOIRS,  &C.  77 


Having  attained  to  riper  years,  she  was  frequently  at  the  court  of 
King  James  and  Queen  Ann,  and  was  in  great  favor  with  the  queen, 
and  King  Charles  the  First,  then  Prince  of  Wales.  She  made  fre- 
quent sad  reflections  upon  this  period  of  her  life,  for  misspending  a 
part  of  many  Lord's-days  in  masques,  and  other  court  pastimes,  ac- 
cording to  the  custom  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  courage  enough  to  resist  the  temptations 
to  it.  It  was  the  only  thing  in  which  a  divine,  who  was  well  ac- 
quainted with  her,  declared  that  he  ever  heard  her  repent  her  obe- 
dience 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  mind  she  began  to 
discover,  made  many  noble  persons  desire  her  in  marriage ;  but  at 
length,  with  the  approbation  of  her  parents,  she  chose  for  her  hus- 
band 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  pro- 
portion to  his  quality,  and  his  noble  spirit  and  temper  far  better  suit- 
ed his  excellent  lady,  than  a  higher  ascent  in  the  scale  of  honor,  with 
a  different  spirit  and  temper,  would  have  done. 

In  her  conjugal  relation  she  had  become  more  conspicuous.  She 
was  now,  as  it  were,  planted  upon  an  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  ca- 
pacity 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  governess  to  a  numerous  family  of  servants. 

If  we  consider  the  constituents  of  a  good  wife  as  living  in  chasti- 
ty— in  the  prudent  management  of  the  affairs  of  the  household^-in 
respect  to  her  husband's  person,  a  concealment  of  his  weaknesses, 
and  in  an  obedience  to  his  commands,  together  with  a  due  sympathy, 
and  patient  and  cheerful  participation  with  him  in  the  vicissitudes  of 
Providence  with  which  he  was  exercised,  and  above  all,  a  serious 
and  tender  regard  to  the  salvation  of  the  soul  of  her  husband,  this 
most  worthy  lady  will  be  found  to  have  deserved  the  highest  praise. 

As  to  chastity,  she  judged  it  not  enough  to  be  in  this  respect  vir- 
tuous, unless  she  lived  above  the  suspicion  of  the  contrary.  She 
would  often  mention  a  saying  of  her  mother's  on  this  head,  "  that 
temptations  to  the  violation  of  the  honor  of  ladies  in  this  particular, 
look  their  rise  from  a  carriage  too  light  and  familiar  in  themselves, 
and  ihnt  man  was  suffered  to  come  loo  near  who  came  to  be  denied," 


78  MEMOIRS    OF 

Her  constant  behavior,  therefore,  was  that  of  an  affability,  ever  tem- 
pered with  gravity ;  and  they  both  shone  in  such  an  inseparable  con- 
junction, as  spread  a  glory  upon  her  character. 

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 
finding  her  husband  encumbered  with  a  great  debt,  she  undertook  the 
management  of  his  whole  estate,  and  the  auditing  of  all  his  accounts, 
and  so  happily  succeeded  in  the  business,  as  to  diminish  several  thou- 
sand pounds  of  the  sums  which  he  owed. 

Her  respect  to  her  husband's  person,  her  concealment  of  his  weak- 
nesses, and  her  obedience  to  his  commands,  were  evinced  not  only 
in  words,  but  in  actions ;  and  she  shewed  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  allot- 
ted 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  distempers  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  upon  public  ordinan- 
ces, to  take  her  meals,  or  perform  her  secret  devotions.  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  appellation  which  her  hus- 
band 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 


*  Dr.  John  Collinses.  He  drew  up  a  piece  entitled  "The  Excellent  Woman," 
discoursed  more  privately  from  Prov.  xxxi.  29,  30,  31,  upon  occasion  of  the  death  of 
the  Right  Honorable  the  Lady  Frances  Hobart,  and  prefixed  it  with  what  he  calls 
"A  short  Accourit  of  her  holy  Life  and  Death."  To  this  account  we  are  obliged  for 
the  Memoirs  we  are  giving  of  this  lady,  and  in  several  places  have  made  large  quo- 
tations from  it. 


LADY   FRANCES    HOBART.  7(J 

of  this  noble  lady,  but  there  sprung  up  with  it  a  great  solicitude  for 
the  best  interests  of  the  companion  of  her  life.  By  her  prudent  ad- 
monitions, 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  delighted,  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  an 
hope,  through  grace,  for  several  months  before  he  died,  as  without 
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 
consider  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  ma- 
ture age. 

This  young  lady  was  married  to  an  honorable  and  worthy  person, 
Sir  John  Hobart,  Bart.,  the  heir  of  her  father's  honors  and  family, 
by  whom  it  pleased  God,  after  some  years,  to  give  her  a  son,  which 
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  sub- 
ject 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,"  says  the  writer  of  her  life,  "to 
her  other  children,  while  she  enjoyed  them,  I  can  say  nothing,  not 
having  had  the  advantage  of  knowing  her  till  some  years  after  God 
had  deprived  her  of  them  ;  only  1  may  rationally  presume  it  was  not 
unlike  to  what  she  shewed  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  whatsoever  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  of  feminine  perfection.  The  instruction  of 
her  father  which  she  heard,  and  the  law  of  her  mother  which  she 
did  not  forsake,  proved  an  ornament  of  grace  unto  her  head,  and  as 
chains  of  gold  and  oriental  pearls  about  her  neck.  And  indeed,  as 
there  was  nothing  wanting  in  nature  to  accomplish  that  young  and 


80  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  shew  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  con- 
sidered that  she  had  brought  forth  a  mortal  daughter,  but  also  a  sub- 
missive Christian  who  had  learned  not  to  repine  against  Heaven,  but 
in  great  measure  to  melt  down  her  own  into  the  divine  will." 

We  shall  next  consider  this  noble  person  in  the  relation  of  a  mis- 
tress to  a  numerous  family  of  servants ;  and  it  may  be  truly  said  of 
her,  that  she  acquitted  herself  in  it  with  an  equal  honor  to  that  with 
which  she  adorned  her  other  capacities  in  life.  She  behaved  her- 
self in  such  a  manner  to  her  domestics  as  that  her  carriage  would 
not  allow  them  to  be  proud  and  malapert  on  one  side,  nor  discour- 
aged into  a  servility  and  baseness  of  spirit  on  the  other.  After  the 
choice  of  her  servants  devolved  entirely  on  herself,  her  great  care  in 
the  first  place  was  to  procure  persons  for  her  household  who  feared 
God.  She  ever  preferred  the  virtuous  and  sober.  She  might  in- 
deed as  to  such  be  once  and  again  deceived,  but  none  were  ever 
suffered  to  continue  in  her  house  when  she  had  once  discovered 
them  to  be  drunkards,  unclean  persons,  profane  swearers,  or  cursers, 
enemies  to  religion  and  godliness,  or  in  any  way  wicked  and  scanda- 
lous ;  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  what  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 
biographer,  "  she  was  indeed  best  known  to  me,  as  I  had  the  happi- 
ness 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  ministerial  office  in  the  city,  (Norwich,)  and  to  take 


*  Dr.  Collinges  was  then  only  about  twenty  three  years  of  age.  What  an  excel- 
lent spirit,  and  uncommon  endeavors  to  do  good,  this  man  of  God  discovered  so  early 
in  life,  will  be  made  abundantly  evident  from  the  Memoirs  of  the  lady. 


LADY  FRANCES  HOBART.  SI 

some  oversight  of  his  family  in  the  things  of  God,  Sir  John  himself 
having  been  lately  a  valetudinarian,  and  the  family  without  any  spirit- 
ual guide.  I  found  it  in  some  disorder,  and  the  several  persons  in 
it,  the  daughter  only  excepted,  being  persons  grown  in  years,  I  ap- 
prehended it  no  easy  matter  to  reduce  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  conformity  to  David's  pattern, 
morning,  evening,  and  at  noon-time,  reading  some  portion  of  Scrip- 
ture 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  be- 
cause 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  because  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  communica- 
ted 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  ex- 
pressions of  thankfulness,  signified  his  approbation  to  me,  and  com- 
manded the  servants  diligently  to  attend  the  duties ;  and  himself, 
when  his  infirmities  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  ladyship,  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  princi- 
ples of  religion.  From  the  time  I  first  came  into  the  family  it  pleas- 
ed God  to  keep  Sir  John  Hobart  in  a  dying  condition,  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  satis- 
faction 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  com- 
fort, that  he  had  seen  his  family,  before  his  death,  in  a  course  of  re- 

11 


82  MEMOIRS    OF 

formation,  which  he  doubted  not  but  his  lady  would  bring  to  per- 
fection." 

To  come  directly  to  that  period  of  her  life,  her  ladyship's  widow- 
hood. 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  distress,  and  learned  to 
hold  her  peace  because  it  was  the  Lord's  doing,  she  made  it  her 
first  request  to  Dr.  Collinges  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  hery 
according  to  the  pattern  of  the  man  after  God's  own  heart,  endeav- 
oring "to  walk  in  her  house  with  a  perfect  heart — that  those  who 
were  of  a  fro  ward  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  ad- 
vantage of  doing  good  to  the  souls  of  many,  she  at  no  small  expense 
converted  some  less  useful  lower  rooms  of  her  house  into  a  chapely 
which  would  conveniently  hold  more  than  two  hundred  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  recrea- 
tions, happily  intercepted  many  of  them,  and  proved,  from  the  ex- 
ample 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,  above  named,  to  preach  a  morning 
sermon  on  the  Lord's-day,  those  monthly  days  only  excepted  when 
he  was  to  administer  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  accor- 
ding 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. 


*  Psalm  ci. 


LADY  FRANCES  HOBART.  83 

The  time  of  her  last  sickness,  the  dropsy,  which  seized  her  some- 
thing more  than  half  a  year  before  her  death,  afforded  no  great  va- 
riety 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  ap- 
pointed lime,  till  her  change  came.  "  I  do  not  remember,"  says  Dr. 
Collinges,  "  that  during  her  long  illness  she  more  than  twice  discov- 
ered 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  dis- 
tance, she  lost  her  senses,  and  her  speech,  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  honor,  liber- 
ality, temperance,  humility,  and  courtesy,  which  it  hath  pleased 
God  in  this  last  age  to  shew  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  no  reproachable  magnitude,  and  the  products  of 
natural  temperature,  not  of  vicious  habits,  so  they  were  so  much 
outshone  by  her  eminent  graces  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  lamented,  by  all  worthy  persons  in 
the  city  of  Norwich,  to  which  she  was  related. 

She  was  buried  in  a  vault  belonging  to  the  family  of  her  dear 
and  noble  husband,  at  Blicklin,  in  Norfolk,  December  1,  1664, 
therein  paying  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  marriage." 


84 


liABY  LET-ICE* 

VISCOUNTESS     FALKLAND 


[Written  in  a  Letter  to  her  Mother,  the  Lady  Morisojv,  at  Great  Tew,  in 
Oxfordshire] 


Madam,— It  is  the  desire  of  some  honorable  personages  to  have 
an  exact  account  of  the  death  of  your  most  dear  daughter,  the  Lady 
Falkland  ;  they  being  acquainted  with  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  Magdalen'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  delivering  of  it ;  it  may  be  consistent  with  your  modesty,  to 
be  a  witness  of  the  truth  of  these  particulars,  though  not  to  be  a 
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  magni- 
fied and  honored  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  while  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 
father's  house,)  was  very  exact ;  and  as  she  began,  so  she  continued 
in  this  gracious  and  mild  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. 


MEMOIRS,  &C.  B5 

That  her  time  might  not  be  misspent,  nor  her  employments  tedi- 
ous to  her,  the  several  hours  of  the  day  had  a  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  loose  money  to  fill  it ;  and  as  earnest  she  was  in  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  pur- 
pose :  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  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  tempter  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. 

Some  there  are,  whom  God  leads  from  the  spiritual  Egypt  to 
Canaan,  not  by  this  way  of  the  Philistines,  lest  they  should  repent 
when  they  see  war,  and  turn  back  again  into  Egypt,  Exod.  xiii.  17. 
But  her,  it  seems,  God  trained  up  in  this  military  course :  and  from 
her  youth  exercised  her  in  it,  that  she  might  be  expert  at  it. 

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  incompara- 
ble sweetness  there  is  in  the  music  of  David's  harp  !  Oh,  what  heav- 
enly joy  there  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  worship  !" 

And  now,  nothing  could  hinder  her  from  those  holy  assemblies ; 
every  Lord's-day  constantly,  forenoon  and  afternoon,  she  would  be 


86  MEMOIRS    OF 

with  the  earliest  at  them  :  sometimes  (when  she  wanted  a  conveni- 
ence of  riding,)  she  walked  cheerfully  three  or  four  miles  a  day,  as 
young  and  as  weak  as  she  was,  to  them  :  and  at  night  she  accounted 
the  joys  and  the  refreshments,  of  which  her  soul  had  been  partaker, 
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  natu- 
ral talents  of  understanding  and  reason,  to  a  great  degree  of  wisdom 
and  knowledge. 

And  now  these  riches,  of  her  piety,  wisdom,  quickness  of  wit, 
discretion,  judgment,  sobriety,  and  gravity  of  behavior,  being  once 
perceived  by  Sir  Lucius  Cary,*  seemed  portion  enough  to  him  : 
these  were  they  he  prized  above  worldly  inheritances,  and  those 
other  fading  accessions,  which  most  men  court. 

And  she  being  married  to  him,  riches  and  honor,  and  all  other 
worldly  prosperity,  flow  in  upon  her ;  and  consequently  to  proceed  in 
holiness  and  godliness  grows  an  harder  task,  than  before  it  seemed  to 
be :  it  being  much  more  difficult  when  riches  and  honor  thus  increase, 
then,  not  to  set  our  hearts  upon  them. 

Yet  God  strengthened  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  towards  her,  for  these  temporal  preferments,  yet  nei- 
ther you,  nor  any  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 
Hezekiah'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  but  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  wont- 
ed spiritual  comforts,  but  instead  of  them  had  some  anguish  and  bit- 
terness of  spirit ;  yet  by  the  advice  of  good  divines,  and  by  her  ordi- 
nary help  of  prayer,  she  soon  recovered  her  peace  and  joy. 

Thus  in  the  several  conditions  of  youth,  and  ripe  years  of  virgin- 
ity, and  marriage,   and  amongst  contrary  temptations,  of  adversity 

*  See  Note  at  the  end  of  this  Memoir. 


LADY    FALKLAND.  87 

and  prosperity,  affliction  and  comfort,  she  continues  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  res- 
pect 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 
husband,  that  he  might  be  like  Zebulun,  a  student  helping  the  Lord 
against  the  mighty,  (Judges  v.  14,)  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  separated  from 
hira,  for  a  while,  whom  she  loved  more  than  all  the  things  of  this 
world  :  this  was  a  sad  beginning ;  but  that  total  separation,  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  fears  it  may  be  a  punishment  also  upon  her,  for  some 
sin  or  other,  and  therefore  strictly  examines  herself,  and  ransacks 
every  corner  of  her  heart,  to  find  out  wherein  she  had  provoked 
God  to  lay  this  great  affliction  on  her ;  and  to  make  sure,  she  re- 
news her  repentance  for  all  her  transgressions ;  and  her  godly  sor- 
row for  her  sins  past  is  as  fresh  as  if  it  had  been  for  the  sins  of  yes- 
terday. 

And  now  she  addresses  herself  to  a  divine  of  great  eminence  for 
piety  and  learning ;  and  from  him  she  takes  directions  for  a  more 
strict  course  of  life  in  this  her  widowhood,  than  formerly ;  now  she 
forgetting  quite  what  was  behind,  presses  forward  to  what  was  be- 
fore,  and,  as  if  she  had  done  nothing  yet,  she  begins  anew. 

And  though  the  greatest  part  of  her  Christian  work  was  locked 
up  close  within  herself,  and  some  of  it  very  studiously  and  indus- 
triously 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  practice  our  most  blessed 
Savior's  Sermon  upon  the  Mount,  in  the  fifth,  sixth,  and  seventh 
chapters  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  : 


88 


MEMOIRS   OF 


and  some  of  her  near  neighbors,  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  accounted  that  the  best  arrangement  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. 

So  that  her  principal  care  herein,  was  to  keep  them  from  idleness, 
that  root  of  all  sin  and  wickedness;  for  by  another  method  she  might 
have  received  more  profit,  and  thereby  have  been  better  able  to  re- 
lieve them,  though  by  this  only  she  was  able  to  set  them  at  work. 

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,  and  refreshing  the  faint  and 
weak  ;  and  for  clothing  the  naked.  In  some  extremities  you  might 
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  solici- 
tor for  them :  and  when  it  was  objected,  that  many  idle  and  wicked 
people  were  by  this  course  of  charity  relieved  at  her  house,  her  an- 
swer was :  "I  know  not  their  hearts,  and  in  their  outward  carriage 
and  speech  they  all  appear  to  me  good  and  virtuous,  and  I  had  rather 
relieve  five  unworthy  vagrants  than  that  one  member  of  Christ  should 
go  empty  away."  And  for  harboring  strangers,  the  many  inconve- 
niences ordinarily  ensuing  upon  it,  could  not  deter  her  from  it ;  some- 
times 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  how  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  he  would  suspect  my 
Christianity,  if  he  should  see  me  relieve  a  needy  Turk,  or  Jew  : 
however,  I  had  rather  be  so  misunderstood,  if  this  my  secret  alms 
should  be  known,  than  that  any  of  my  enemies,  the  worst  of  them, 
should  perish  for  want  of  it." 


LADY    FALKLAND.  89 

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  lau- 
dable :  her  provision  of  antidotes  against  infection,  and  of  cordials, 
and  several  sorts  of  physic  for  such  of  her  neighbors  as  should  need 
them,  amounted  yearly  to  very  considerable  sums :  and  though,  in 
distributing  such  medicinal  provisions,  her  hand  was  very  open,  yet 
it  was  close  enough  in  applying  them  :  her  skill,  indeed,  was  more 
than  ordinary,  and  her  wariness  too. 

When  any  of  the  poor  neighbors  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,  declared 
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  honorable  lady  hath  been  observed  sit- 
ting 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  un- 
derstanding and  clearness  of  judgment ;  yet  as  far  from  self-conceit 
as  from  ignorance  :  her  way,  indeed,  was,  upon  debates,  to  object 
till  all  arguments  she  could  think  of  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 : 

12 


90  MEMOIRS    OF 

herein  this  lady  excelled  some  of  the  chiefest  rabbis,  that  her  knowl- 
edge did  not  puff  up,  but  edify. 

And  her  understanding  leading  the  way  in  meekness,  her  will 
cheerfully  followed  in  it  too :  as  soon  as  her  understanding  was  satis- 
fied, her  will  bowed  presently  and  obeyed  :  she  seldom  refused  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  inclined  her  to  anger ;  and  being  so  well 
aware  of  it,  she  most  diligently  observed  herself,  and  did,  in  a  great 
degree,  conquer  that  froward  inclination ;  and  that  good  measure  of 
meekness,  in  this  kind,  which  she  attained  to,  was  the  more  com- 
mendable,  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  weaknesses,  and  lamenting  her  spir- 
itual wants  :  there  were  some  about  her  who  had  an  holy  emulation 
to  be  like  her,  in  these,  and  such  like  graces  and  virtues ;  and  she 
hath  now  and  then  overheard  them  wishing,  that  they  were  as  for- 
ward as  she ;  and  her  constant  reply  was,  "Oh,  ye  are  not  so  back- 
ward !  yet  wish  yourselves  better ;  ye  know  not  how  vile  and  cor- 
rupt 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  these  graces  and  virtues,  to  which  our 
Savior  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  Savior  she  learned  that 
duty  of  prayer ;  and  her  chief  practice  therein  she  could  not  con- 
ceal from  us  neither,  which  was  as  follows : 

First,  she  spent  some  hours  every  day  in  her  private  devotions 
and  meditations ;  these  were  called,  1  remember,  by  those  of  her 
family,  her  busy  hours ;  prayers,  her  business :  Martha's  employ- 
ment 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 
ordinarily  she  passed  about  an  hour  with  them,  in  praying,  and  cate- 
chising 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  the  reading  scriptures, 
and  singing  psalms,)  before  bed-time,  were  daily  and  constantly  added. 

To  pray  with  David  seven  times  a  day  or  with  Daniel  three  times, 
is  expected  perhaps  only  from  such  persons  as  have  leisure  and  op- 
portunity :  but  with  the  sons  of  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. 


LADY    FALKLAND.  91 

Neither  were  these  holy  offices  peculiar  to  her  menial  servants, 
others  came  freely  to  join  with  them,  and  her  oratory  was  as  open 
to  her  neighbors  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  catechising,  &c.  and  with 
her  own  soul,  that  oftentimes  the  day  was  too  short  for  her ;  and 
th'en  I  have  known  her  rise  two  or  three  hours  before  day  on  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  as  for  other  spiritual  ends,  I  presume  it  was,  that 
she  so  solemnly  fasted  every  Saturday ;  that  day  she  sequestered  her- 
self 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. 

And  her  care  to  prepare  herself  for  the  receiving  of  the  holy  Sa- 
crament of  our  most  blessed  Lord's  Supper  was  most  commendable 
and  most  punctual :  oftentimes  scruples  and  fears  arose  in  her,  tend- 
ing to  keep  her  back  from  that  heavenly  banquet ;  and  she  having, 
upon  examination  of  them,  reason  enough,  as  we  thought,  to  con- 
clude that  they  were  temptations  from  the  devil,  whom  she  perceiv- 
ed laboring  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  resolution  from  her,  that  she  would  not,  by  God's 
help,  thenceforth  omit  any  opportunity  of  communication.  Thus 
while  the  devil  was  undermining  to  weaken  her,  she  was  countermining 
to  strengthen  herself  more  against  him  :  which  resolution  she  con- 
stantly kept  at  home,  and,  I  am  told,  at  Oxford  and  London  too,  the 
first  inquiry  almost  after  her  journey  thither,  was,  where  and  when  is 
there  a  communion  ?  And  sometimes  she  would  go  to  the  other  end 
of  the  city  for  it. 

At  home  her  servants  were  all  urged  to  accompany  her  to  the 
Sacrament ;  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  several  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  far- 
ther ;  and  her  care  was  so  to  order  her  domestic  affairs,  that  all 
those  servants,  who  were  to  receive  the  Sacrament,  should  have  the 
day  before  it  free  from  their  ordinary  work,  that  they  might  have 
better  leisure  for  that  spiritual  work  of  preparing  themselves  for  that 
Sacrament. 


92  MEMOIRS    OF 

And  after  the  holy  Sacrament,  she  called  them  together  again, 
and  gave  them  such  exhortations  as  were  proper  for  them. 

And  this  very  care  and  piety  in  family  duties  was  so  highly  es- 
teemed in  Abraham,  that  God  made  him  one  of  his  privy  coun- 
cil, (as  I  may  so  say,)  for  that  alone,  Gen.  xviii.  17.  And  might 
not  the  singular  wisdom  and  deep  knowledge  of  divine  counsels,  and 
heavenly  mysteries,  which  this  daughter  of  Abraham  had,  be  a  re- 
ward of  that  care  to  instruct  her  children  and  household  in  the  ways 
of  God  ? 

Yet  while  she  is  thus  religiously  and  piously  employed  in  this  good 
proficiency,  and  far  progress,  going  on  from  grace  to  grace,  from  vir- 
tue to  virtue  ;  God  hath  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  affections  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,  makes  the  burthen  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  im- 
moderate sorrow  must  be  repented  of,  these  tears  wept  over  again:" 
and  this  quick  sense  of  displeasing  God,  by  this  deep  grief,  soon  al- 
layed the  vehemence  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 
disregard  of  the  world,  and  to  a  nearer  conformity  to  Christ  her  Lord. 

Yet  still  her  sorrow  for  her  son  is  somewhat  excessive,  she  fears, 
and  therefore  she  goes  to  her  chaplain  again,  and  acquaints  him  with 
the  violence  of  those  fits  of  sorrow  which  of  late  had  seized  upon 
her,  for  the  death  of  her  son ;  and  he  with  his  healing  counsel  and 
direction,  by  God's  help,  cured  this  her  distemper;  and  antidotes  he 
prescribed  too,  to  prevent  a  relapse  into  this  malady  of  excessive 
grief. 

Now  she  confesses  that  this  very  affliction  was  most  fit  for  her, 
and  that  it  would  prove  most  beneficial  to  her,  and  therefore  she  la- 
bors to  put  on  joy  instead  of  sorrow,  and  comfort  instead  of  mourn- 
ing, and  returning  home  with  perfect  cheerfulness,  every  one  there 
observed  a  most  notable  though  sudden  change  in  her ;  sad  Han- 
nah's countenance  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. 


LADY    FALKLAND.  93 

Thus  God  made  the  medicine  most  sovereign  to  her,  and  the  anti- 
dote too ;  for  I  verily  believe  she  never  after  felt  any  fit  of  that  her 
disease  ;  and  though  she  wept  often  for  her  tears  so  profusely  spent 
formerly  upon  her  son's  hearse,  yet  after  this,  not  a  tear  more  was 
shed  over  it. 

And  with  this  extraordinary  cheerfulness  she  takes  up  a  most  firm 
resolution  of  a  further  progress  in  holiness  and  piety,  and  addresses 
herself  to  run  these  latter  stages  of  her  Christian  race  with  greater 
speed  than  she  had  shewed  in  any  of  the  former :  and  thereupon 
she  begins  with  a  most  diligent  endeavor  to  conform  her  life  exactly 
and  universally  to  the  most  holy  will  of  God. 

But  the  devil,  who  before  envied  her  beginning,  and  her  proficien- 
cy much  more,  is  now  most  violent  to  hinder  her  perfection ;  and 
therefore  upon  this  her  renewed  purpose  of  more  exact  obedience, 
presently  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  ac- 
ceptable 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  vehe- 
ment, 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  repent- 
ance 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  comfort  and  thorough  satisfaction, 
and  returns  home  now  as  visibly  lifted  up  from  the  deep  pit  of  an- 
guish, and  disquiet  of  spirit,  as  she  was  the  other  day,  from  the  val- 
ley of  sorrow :  and  with  tranquillity  of  mind,  and  joy  of  heart, 
shews  to  her  friends,  both  how  she  sunk,  and  how  she  was  raised 
again. 

And  now  having,  by  the  help  of  her  God,  leapt  over  this  wall, 
and  overcome  this  difficulty,  with  much  cheerfulness  of  spirit  she  en- 
ters upon  the  practice  of  what  she  had  last  resolved  on.  This  oppo- 
sition, though  it  staid  her  a  while,  yet  set  an  edge  upon  her  resolu- 
tion, and  she  soon  recovered  that  vigor  and  keenness.  And  she  be- 
gins, by  a  most  sharp  mortification,  to  obey  the  call  of  her  last  af- 
fliction. 

The  vanity  of  apparel  and  dress  she  had  cut  off  long  before;  and 
after  her  husband's  death,  the  richness  of  them  too.  These  (and 
her  looking-glasses  with  the  women  in  the  law.  Exod.  xxxviii.  8,) 
she  had  laid  by,  for  the  service  of  the  tabernacle ;  what  she  spared 
in  these,  she  bestowed  upon  the  poor  members  of  Christ,  and  now 
she  begins  to  cut  off  all  worldly  pomp  also. 


94  MEMOIRS    OF 

In  her  house,  in  her  retinue,  and  at  her  table,  and  otherwise,  she 
denies  herself  that  state  which  her  quality  might  have  excused,  that 
with  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  gen- 
tlewomen for  her  attendants :  these  expenses  she  knew  would  be 
better  allowed,  in  her  bill  of  accounts  at  the  general  audit,  than  those 
other ;  it  was  her  pomp  and  joy  to  avoid  all  useless  pomp  of  state, 
and  all  delight  in  courtly  vanities. 

And  now  her  anger  too,  which  was  crushed  before,  must  be  whol- 
ly subdued;  and  to  that  purpose  she  solicitously  avoids  all  inquiries; 
and  all  discourse  which  she  feared  would  provoke  her  to  immoderate 
anger;  and  when  she  feels  it  struggling  to  arise  in  her,  then  present- 
ly, either  by  silence  or  by  diverting  to  another  matter,  she  labors  to 
stifle  it. 

And  while  she  is  suppressing  the  sinfulness  of  this  passion,  she 
undertakes  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  strait- 
ened, 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  ab- 
sence, 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  a  long  time  before  her  death  she 
most  punctually  observed  it ;  she  accounted  it  a  crime  to  speak  evil 
falsely  of  any  man ;  and  it  went  for  a  slander  with  her,  as  well  it 
might,  to  speak  evil  truly  of  any  one,  unless  it  were  in  love. 

The  second  caution  her  tongue  had,  was,  that,  as  much  as  was 
possible,  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  dis- 
course to  edification,  she  sits  silent,  and  refrains  even  from  good 
words,  though  it  be  pain  and  grief  to  her. 

And  of  late  she  distinguished  between  civil  and  spiritual  edifica- 
tion, and  scarcely  allowed  herself  discourses  for  civil  edification  of 
her  friends  or  neighbors  in  worldly  matters :  spiritual  edification  in 
heavenly  things  was  all  her  aim. 


LADY    FALKLAND.  95 

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  sa- 
vor of  compliment  at  all ;  and  she  judged  herself  guilty  of  a  trespass 
if  she  subscribed  herself,  Your  servant,  to  whom  she  was  not  real- 
ly 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  superiors;  and  most  courteous  and 
affable  towards  inferiors ;  and  very  cautious  lest  she  should  give  of- 
fense to  one  or  other,  either  in  word  or  gesture;  and  as  cautious  too, 
lest  any  of  them  should  take  offense  at  any  speech,  or  look  of  hers, 
towards  them ;  "  for  either  way,"  said  she,  "  in  offenses  given  or 
taken,  God  is  offended." 

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  re- 
membered 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  recon- 
ciled ;  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 
increase  in  her,  yet  a  true  poverty  of  spirit  increased  also  in  her. 
The  more  holy,  the  more  pious  she  was,  the  more  humbly  she  walk- 
ed with  God  :  in  her  greatest  abundance  she  complained  most  of 
spiritual  wants.  Sure  the  bright  lustre  of  her  virtue  gave  her  an  ad- 
vantage to  espy  many  corruptions  in  herself  which  she  could  not  be- 
fore ;  and  these  she  lamented  more  sadly  now  than  heretofore. 

And  now  in  the  very  last  stage  of  her  Christian  race,  she  grows 
so  exact,  that  all  times  seems  tedious  to  her,  which"  tends  not  to  heav- 
en ;  and  thereupon  she  now  resolves  to  get  loose  from  the  multitude 
of  her  worldly  employments  ;  and  provides  to  remove  from  her  state- 
ly 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  her- 
self from  worldly  business,  and  unnecessary  visits,  and  so  spend  her 
whole  time  :  and  she  took  as  great  delight  in  projecting  this  humilia- 
tion and  privacy,  as  others  do,  in  being  advanced  to  public  honors 
and  state  employments. 

Now  toward  the  end  of  her  race,  all  her  strength  seems  weakness, 
and  her  quickest  speed  seems  slothfulness ;  therefore  at  Christmas 
last  she  prepared  to  be  at  the  holy  communion  with  the  first ;  and 
after  that,  her  soul  still  wanting  the  strength  and  vigor  it  aimed  at, 
she  thinks  of  coming  with  the  last  too,  the  next  Lord's-day  :  but  that 
very  morning  she  had  a  very  sore  conflict,  and  great  anguish  in  spir- 


96  MEMOIRS    OF 

it:  onetime  her  unworthiness,  another  time  her  dulness,  and  dry- 
ness, deterred  her  from  approaching  to  the  holy  Sacrament ;  and  then 
the  singularity  and  unaccustomedness  of  receiving  so  often,  dissuad- 
ed her ;  after  an  hour  or  two,  some  reason  she  found  to  presume  this 
might  be  from  the  devil,  her  grand  enemy,  who  was  unwilling  that 
the  castle  which  he  now  besieged  should  be  double-walled  against 
him,  and  thereupon  she  continues  her  resolution,  and  came  to  the 
blessed  Sacrament  that  second  day  also,  and  received  with  it  much 
comfort  and  peace.  And  not  many  days  after,  the  devil  brought  his 
strongest  batteries  and  labored  to  take  this  castle  by  storm  ;  tempta- 
tions 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  jus- 
tice, 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  con- 
ceived the  necessary  means  to  perform  that  duty,  and  therefore  she 
ventures  upon  it  and  leaves  the  success  to  God. 

At  London  she  strengthens  herself  yet  more,  for  the  final  period 
of  her  race,  by  receiving  the  holy  Sacrament  again ;  but  alas !  mad- 
am, though  her  inward  strength  increases,  her  outward  strength  de- 
cays, and  her  weak  consumptive  body,  by  a  cold  there  taken,  grows 
weaker  :  yet  thence  she  came  homeward  5  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, 
prepares  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  cheer- 
ed ;  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  cham- 
ber unconcerned  in  it ;  neither  fear  of  death  could  grieve  nor  trouble 
her,  nor  hopes  of  life  and  health  rejoice  her  :  "  I  have  wholly  resign- 
ed 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  en- 
dure the  miseries  of  this  life,  and  ever  and  anon  encounter  with  Sa- 
tan 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  Redeemer,  willing  to  save  her. 


LADY   FALKLAND.  97 

They  who  write  of  perfection,  account  it  an  high  degree  to  have 
u  Vitam  in  patientid  et  mortem  in  voto,  To  be  content  to  live,  but 
desirous  to  die :"  yet  surely,  this,  "In  cequilibrio  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  our- 
selves to  God,  accounting  that  to  be  the  best,  whatsoever  it  is,  which 
he  pleases  to  send.  This,  this  is  to  be  a  strong  man  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,  "Maluit 
obsequi  prceceptis  Christi,  quam  vel  sic  coronari,  He  had  rather  live 
and  obey  God,  than  die  and  reign  in  glory :"  But  this,  to  have  no 
propensity  at  all  more  to  one  than  to  the  other,  to  be  wholly  indiffer- 
ent, 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  indif- 
ference 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  ob- 
served it  in  her,  could  not  but  set  a  special  character  upon,  most  wor- 
thy to  be  commended  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  thankfuluess  to  God,  who  had  brought  her  safe  to  die  in  her  own 
house,  among  her  dearest  friends. 

And  there  she  shewed  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, 
andrfenabled  her  by  his  grace  to  tread  Satan  under  her  feet,  not  a 
word  of  complaint,  nor  the  least  disturbance,  or  disquiet,  to  be  per- 
ceived 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  evidence  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  at  prayers  :  she  calls  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,  fear  God,"  she  most  sweetly  spent  her  breath ;  and  so 
most  comfortably  yielded  up  her  spirit  to  him  who  made  it ;  and  was, 

13 


98  MEMOIRS  OF 

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, 
I.  D. 

April  15,  1647. 

Note. — The  above  beautiful  Memoir,  supposed  to  have  been  writ- 
ten by  Lady  Falkland's  chaplain,  gives  no  account  of  her  family  or 
husband,  which  of  course  were  well  known  to  those  for  whom  it  was 
first  intended.  To  supply  this  desideratum,  the  following  sketch  of 
her  husband  is  here  subjoined  from  Lord  Clarendon's  History. 

"In  the  unhappy  battle  of  Newbury  was  slain  the  lord  viscount 
Falkland ;  a  person  of  such  prodigious  parts  of  learning  and  knowl- 
edge, of  that  inimitable  sweetness  and  delight  in  conversation,  of  so 
flowing  and  obliging  a  humanity  and  goodness  to  mankind,  and  of 
that  primitive  simplicity  and  integrity  of  life,  that  if  there  were  no 
other  brand  upon  this  odious  and  accursed  civil  war,  than  that  single 
loss,  it  must  be  most  infamous  and  execrable  to  all  posterity. 

"Before  he  came  to  twenty  years  of  age,  he  was  master  of  a  no- 
ble fortune,  which  descended  to  him  by  the  gift  of  a  grandfather, 
without  passing  through  his  father  or  mother,  who  were  then  both 
alive,  and  not  well  enough  contented  to  find  themselves  passed  by 
in  the  descent.  His  education  for  some  years  had  been  in  Ireland, 
where  his  father  was  lord  deputy;  so  that,  when  he  returned  into 
England,  to  the  possession  of  his  fortune,  he  was  unentangled  with 
any  acquaintance  or  friends,  which  usually  grow  up  by  the  custom 
of  conversation ;  and  therefore  was  to  make  a  pure  election  of  his 
company;  which  he  chose  by  other  rules  than  were  prescribed  to 
the  young  nobility  of  that  time.  And  it  cannot  be  denied,  though 
he  admitted  some  few  to  his  friendship  for  the  agreeableness  of  their 
natures,  and  their  undoubted  affection  to  him,  that  his  familiarity  and 
friendship,  for  the  most  part,  was  with  men  of  the  most  eminent  and 
sublime  parts,  and  of  untouched  reputation  in  point  of  integrity;  and 
such  men  had  a  title  to  his  bosom. 

"  He  was  a  great  cherisher  of  wit,  and  fancy,  and  good  parts  in 
any  man  ;  and,  if  he  found  them  clouded  with  poverty  or  want,  a 
most  liberal  and  bountiful  patron  towards  them,  even  above  his  for- 
tune ;  of  which,  in  those  administrations,  he  was  such  a  dispenser, 
as,  if  he  had  been  trusted  with  it  to  such  uses,  and  if  there  had  been 
the  least  of  vice  in  his  expense,  he  might  have  been  thought  too 
prodigal.  He  was  constant  and  pertinacious  in  whatsoever  he  re- 
solved to  do,  and  not  to  be  wearied  by  any  pains  that  were  necessa- 
ry to  that  end.  And  therefore  having  once  resolved  not  to  see  Lon- 
don, which  he  loved  above  all  places,  till  he  had  perfectly  learned 
the  Greek  tongue,  he  went  to  his  own  house  in  the  country,  and 
pursued  it  with  that  indefatigable  industry,  that  it  will  not  be  believed 
in  how  short  a  time  he  was  master  of  it,  and  accurately  read  all  the 
Greek  historians. 


LADY   FALKLAND.  99 

"  In  this  time,  his  house  being  within  ten  miles  of  Oxford,  he  con- 
tracted familiarity  and  friendship  with  the  most  polite  and  accurate 
men  of  that  university;  who  found  such  an  immenseness  of  wit,  and 
such  a  solidity  of  judgment  in  him,  so  infinite  a  fancy,  bound  in  by 
a  most  logical  ratiocination,  such  a  vast  knowledge,  that  he  was  not 
ignorant  in  any  thing,  yet  such  an  excessive  humility,  as  if  he  had 
known  nothing,  that  they  frequently  resorted,  and  dwelt  with  him,  as 
in  a  college  situated  in  a  purer  air  ;  so  that  his  house  was  a  university 
in  a  less  volume ;  whither  they  came  not  so  much  for  repose  as  study ; 
and  to  examine  ana  refine  those  grosser  propositions,  which  laziness 
and  consent  made  current  in  vulgar  conversation. 

"  Many  attempts  were  made  upon  him  by  the  instigation  of  his 
mother,  (who  was  a  lady  of  another  persuasion  in  religion,  and  of  a 
most  masculine  understanding,  allayed  with  the  passions  and  infirmi- 
ties of  her  own  sex,)  to  pervert  him  in  his  piety  to  the  church  of 
England,  and  to  reconcile  him  to  that  of  Rome ;  which  they  prose- 
cuted with  the  more  confidence,  because  he  declined  no  opportunity 
or  occasion  of  conference  with  those  of  that  religion,  whether  priests 
or  laics;  having  diligently  studied  the  controversies,  and  exactly  read 
all,  or  the  choicest  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  fathers,  and  having  a 
memory  so  stupendous,  that  he  remembered,  on  all  occasions,  what- 
soever he  read.  And  he  was  so  great  an  enemy  to  that  passion  and 
uncharitableness,  which  he  saw  produced,  by  difference  of  opinion, 
in  matters  of  religion,  that  in  all  those  disputations  with  priests,  and 
others  of  the  Roman  church,  he  affected  to  manifest  all  possible  ci- 
vility to  their  persons,  and  estimation  of  their  parts ;  which  made 
them  retain  still  some  hope  of  his  reduction,  even  when  they  had 
given  over  offering  further  reasons  to  him  to  that  purpose.  But  this 
charity  towards  them  was  much  lessened,  and  any  correspondence 
with  them  quite  declined,  when,  by  sinister  arts,  they  had  corrupted 
his  two  younger  brothers,  being  both  children,  and  stolen  them  from 
his  house,  and  transported  them  beyond  seas,  and  perverted  his  sis- 
ters :  upon  which  occasion  he  wrote  two  large  discourses  against  the 
principal  positions  of  that  religion,  with  that  sharpness  of  style,  and 
full  weight  of  reason,  that  the  church  is  deprived  of  great  jewels 
in  the  concealment  of  them,  and  that  they  are  not  published  to  the 
world." 

"  He  had  a  courage  of  the  most  clear  and  keen  temper,  and  so 
far  from  fear,  that  he  was  not  without  appetite  of  danger ;  and  there- 
fore, upon  any  occasion  of  action,  he  always  engaged  his  person  in 
those  troops,  which  he  thought,  by  the  forwardness  of  the  command- 
ers, to  be  most  like  to  be  furthest  engaged  ;  and  in  all  such  encount- 
ers he  had  about  him  a  strange  cheerfulness  and  companionableness, 
without  at  all  affecting  the  execution  that  was  then  principally  to  be 
attended,  in  which  he  took  no  delight,  but  took  pains  to  prevent  it, 
where  it  was  not,  by  resistance,  necessary :  insomuch  that  at  Edge- 
hill,  when  the  enemy  was  routed,  he  was  like  to  have  incurred  great 


100  MEMOIRS  OF 

peril,  by  interposing  to  save  those  who  had  thrown  away  their  arms, 
and  against  whom,  it  may  be,  others  were  more  fierce  for  their  hav- 
ing thrown  them  away :  insomuch  as  a  man  might  think,  he  came 
into  the  field  only  out  of  curiosity  to  see  the  face  of  danger,  and 
charity  to  prevent  the  shedding  of  blood.  Yet  in  his  natural  incli- 
nation he  acknowledged  he  was  addicted  to  the  profession  of  a  sol- 
dier ;  and  shortly  after  he  came  to  his  fortune,  and  before  he  came 
to  age,  he  went  into  the  Low  Countries,  with  a  resolution  of  pro- 
curing command,  and  to  give  himself  up  to  it,  from  which  he  was 
converted  by  the  complete  inactivity  of  that  summer :  and  so  he  re- 
turned into  England,  and  shortly  after  entered  upon  that  vehement 
course  of  study  we  mentioned  before,  till  the  first  alarum  from  the 
north ;  and  then  again  he  made  ready  for  the  field,  and  though  he 
received  some  repulse  in  the  command  of  a  troop  of  horse,  of  which 
he  had  a  promise,  he  went  a  volunteer  with  the  earl  of  Essex." 

"  When  there  was  any  overture  or  hope  of  peace,  he  would  be 
more  erect  and  vigorous,  and  exceedingly  solicitous  to  press  any 
thing  which  he  thought  might  promote  it;  and  sitting  among  his 
friends,  often,  after  a  deep  silence  and  frequent  sighs,  would,  with  a 
shrill  and  sad  accent,  ingeminate  the  word  Peace,  Peace;  and  would 
passionately  profess,  "that  the  very  agony  of  the  war,  and  the  view 
of  the  calamities  and  desolation  the  kingdom  did  and  must  endure, 
took  his  sleep  from  him,  and  would  shortly  break  his  heart."  This 
made  some  think,  or  pretend  to  think,  "that  he  was  so  much  ena- 
mored of  peace,  that  he  would  have  been  glad  the  king  should 
have  bought  it  at  any  price  ;"  which  was  a  most  unreasonable  ca- 
lumny. As  if  a  man,  that  was  himself  the  most  punctual  and  pre- 
cise in  every  circumstance  that  might  reflect  upon  conscience  or 
honor,  could  have  wished  the  king  to  have  commited  a  trespass 
against  either.  And  yet  this  senseless  scandal  made  some  impres- 
sion upon  him,  or  at  least  he  used  it  for  an  excuse  of  the  daringness 
of  his  spirit ;  for  at  the  leaguer  before  Gloucester,  when  his  friends 
passionately  reprehended  him  for  exposing  his  person  unnecessarily 
to  danger,  (as  he  delighted  to  visit  the  trenches,  and  nearest  ap- 
proaches, and  to  discover  what  the  enemy  did,)  as  being  so  much 
beside  the  duty  of  his  place,  that  it  might  be  understood  against  it, 
he  would  say  merrily,  "  that  his  office*  could  not  take  away  the  privi- 
leges of  his  age ;  and  that  a  secretary  in  war  might  be  present  at  the 
greatest  secret  of  danger;"  but  withal  alleged  seriously,  "that  it 
concerned  him  to  be  more  active  in  enterprises  of  hazard  than  other 
men  ;  that  all  might  see,  that  his  impatience  for  peace  proceeded  not 
from  pusillanimity,  or  fear  to  adventure  his  own  person." 

"  In  the  morning  before  the  battle,  as  always  upon  action,  he  was 
very  cheerful,  and  put  himself  into  the  first  rank  of  the  lord  Byron's 
regiment,  who  was  then  advancing  upon  the  enemy,  who  had  lined 

*  He  was  secretary  of  war,  under  Kirjg  Charles  I. 


LADY   FALKLAND.  101 

the  hedges  on  both  sides  with  musketeers ;  from  whence  he  was 
shot  with  a  musket  in  the  lower  part  of  the  belly,  and  in  the  instant 
falling  from  his  horse,  his  body  was  not  found  till  the  next  morning ; 
till  when,  there  was  some  hope  he  might  have  been  a  prisoner ; 
though  his  nearest  friends,  who  knew  his  temper,  received  small 
comfort  from  that  imagination.  Thus  fell  that  incomparable  young 
man,  in  the  four  and  thirtieth  year  of  his  age,  having  so  much  des- 
patched the  business  of  life,  that  the  oldest  rarely  attain  to  that  im- 
mense knowledge,  and  the  youngest  enter  not  into  the  world  with 
more  innocence  :  whosoever  leads  such  a  life,  need  not  care  upon 
how  short  warning  it  be  taken  from  him." 


102 


MRS.   LUCY  HUTCHINSON. 


WRITTEN    BY    HERSELF. 


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  com- 
mon 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  concerns,  even  the  hairs  of 
their  heads. 

Finding  myself  in  some  kind  guilty  of  this  general  neglect,  I  thought 
it  might  be  the  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 
general  and  particular  providences  exercised  towards  me,  both  in 
the  entrance  and  progress  of  my  life.  Herein  I  meet  with  so  many 
special  indulgences  as  required  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  re- 
ceived in  my  person,  each  of  them  carries  along  with  it  many  mercies 
which  are  above  my  utterance;  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.  as  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  16 j|,  that  in  the  Tower  of  Lon- 
don, the  principal  city  of  the  English  Isle,  I  was  about  four  of  the 


MEMOIRS,  &C  103 

clock  in  the  morning,  brought  forth  to  behold  the  ensuing  light.  My 
father  was  Sir  Allen  Apsley,  Lieutenant  of  the  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  favor  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  honor  upon  everyone  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  neighboring  Continent.  Britain  hath  been  as  a  gar- 
den enclosed,  wherein  all  things  that  man  can  wish,  to  make  a  pleas- 
ant life,  are  planted  and  grow  in  her  own  soil,  and  whatsoever  for- 
eign countries  yield  to  increase  admiration  and  delight,  are  brought 
in  by  her  fleets.  The  people,  by  the  plenty  of  their  country,  not  be- 
ing forced  to  toil  for  bread,  have  ever  addicted  themselves  to  more 
generous  employments,  and  been  reckoned,  almost  in  all  ages,  as  val- 
iant 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  coun- 
try of  Scotland,  where  they  have  ever  since  remained  a  perpetual 
trouble  to  the  successive  inhabitants  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  de- 
grees fetched  away,  and  wasted  in  the  civil  broils  of  these  Roman 
lords,  till  the  land,  almost  depopulated,  lay  open  to  the  incursions  of 
every  borderer,  and  were  forced  to  call  a  stout  warlike  people,  the 
Saxons,  out  of  Germany,  to  their  assistance.  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  coun- 
tries, which  from  the  new  masters  received  a  new  name,  and  ever 
since  retained  it,  being  called  England  3  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 


104  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  monarchy  in  the  peo- 
ple's blood,  in  which  it  hath  swam  about  five  hundred  years,  till  the 
flood  that  bore  it  was  ploughed  into  such  deep  furrows  as  had  almost 
sunk  the  proud  vessel.  Of  those  Saxons  that  remained  subjects  to 
the  Norman  conqueror,  my  father's  family  descended ;  of  those  Nor- 
mans that  came  in  with  him  my  mother's  was  derived  ;  both  of  them, 
as  all  the  rest  in  England,  contracting  such  affinity,  by  mutual  mar- 
riages, that  the  distinction  remained  but  a  short  space,  Normans  and 
Saxons  becoming  one  people,  who  by  their  valor  grew  terrible  to  all 
the  neighboring  princes,  and  have  not  only  bravely  quitted  themselves 
in  their  own  defense,  but  have  shewed  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  de- 
mocracy, with  sufficient  fences  against  the  pest  of  every  one  of  those 
forms,  tyranny,  faction,  and  confusion ;  yet  it  is  not  possible  for  man 
to  devise  such  just  and  excellent  bounds,  as  will  keep  in  wild  ambi- 
tion, 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  popu- 
lar liberty,  but  that  it  rose  again  with  renewed  vigor,  till  at  length  it 
trod  on  those  that  trampled  it  before.  And  in  the  just  bounds  where- 
in 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  affec- 
tionate to  good,  as  unpliable  to  bad  sovereigns. 

Nor  is  it  only  valor  and  generosity  that  renown  this  nation ;  in  arts 
we  have  advanced  equal  to  our  neighbors,  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.  Agricul- 
ture 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  yielded  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 
lustre  of  their  ingenuity,  valor,  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  having, 
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  Brit- 


MRS.    LUCY    HUTCHINSON.  105 

ish  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*  re- 
ceived his  crown :  here  began  the  early  dawn  of  gospel  light,  by 
Wickliffe  and  other  faithful  Witnesses,  whom  God  raised  up  after  the 
black  and  horrid  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  com- 
parison with  other  countries,  hath  made  this  as  a  paradise ;  so,  to 
complete  the  parallel,  the  serpent  hath  in  all  times  been  busy  to  se- 
duce, and  not  unsuccessful,  ever  stirring  up  opposers  to  the  infant 
truths  of  Christ. 

No  sooner  was  the  faith  of  Christ  embraced  in  this  nation,  but 
the  neighboring  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- 
tile serpent  put  off  his  own  horrid  appearance,  and  comes  out  in  a 
Christian  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  deci- 
ded, 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  more  mer- 
cies, consolations,  and  preservations,  which  I  shall  have  occasion  to 
mention  in  other  places. 

From  the  place  of  my  birth  I  shall  only  desire  to  remember  the 
goodness  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  to  all  that  desire  to  drink  of  them.  And  this  is 
no  small  favor,  if  I  consider  how  many  poor  people  perish  among 
the  heathen,  where  they  never  hear  the  name  of  Christ ;  how  many 
poor  .Christians  spring  up  in  countries  enslaved  by  Turkish  and  anti- 
christian 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  unlimited  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 


Constantiue. 

14 


106  MEMOIRS    OF 

kindness  and  his  special  favor  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  al- 
low 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  1  have  to  consider  in  my  nativity  is  my  parents, 
both  of  them  pious  and  virtuous  in  their  own  conversation,  and  care- 
ful instructors  of  my  youth,  not  only  by  precept  but  example  : 
which,  if  I  had  leisure  and  ability,  I  should  have  transmitted  to  my 
posterity,  both  to  give  them  the  honor  due  from  me  in  such  a  grate- 
ful memorial,  and  to  increase  my  children's  improvement  of  the  pat- 
terns 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  ex- 
press. 

My  grandfather  by  my  father's  side  was  a  gentleman  of  a  compe- 
tent 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  came  was  an  Apsley 
of  Apsley,  a  town  w.here  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  concerning  my  father's  kindred  or  country  I  never 
knew  much,  by  reason  of  my  youth  at  the  time  of  his  death,  and 
my  education  in  far  distant  places  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  scarcely  a  family  of  any  note  in 
Sussex  to  which  they  were  not  by  intermarriages  nearly  related  ;  but 
1  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,  be- 
cause he  was  appointed  one  of  my  father's  executors,  though  he  de- 
clined 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  family,  and  by 
her  had  only  one  son,  whose  mother  dying,  my  uncle  married  himself 


MRS.    LUCY    HUTCHINSON.  107 

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  £100  a  year  to  the  eldest  of  his 
half  brothers,  and  annuities  of  £30  a  piece  to  the  three  for  their 
lives.  He  died  before  I  was  born,  but  I  have  heard  very  honora- 
ble mention  made  of  hirn  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  chil- 
dren. 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  honored  with  a  very  noble  and  proper 
employment  in  Ireland.  There  a  rich  widow,  that  had  many  chil- 
dren, 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  grandchildren 
were  brought  up  in  his  house  after  I  was  born.  He,  by  God's  bless- 
ing, and  his  fidelity  and  industry,  growing  in  estate  and  honor,  re- 
ceived a  knighthood  from  King  James  soon  after  his  coming  to  the 
crown,  for  some  eminent  service  done  to  him  in  Ireland,  which  hav- 
ing 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  daughter  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  mar- 
riage between  them.  She  had  divers  children  by  my  father,  but 
only  two  of  them,  a  son  and  daughter,  survived  her,  she  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  victual- 
ler of  the  navy,  a  place  then  both  of  credit  and  great  revenue.     His 


108  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  behavior  he 
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  Lidiar  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  Lord  Grandison,  her 
father's  younger  brother,  an  honorable  and  excellent  person,  but 
married  to  a  lady  so  jealous  of  him,  and  so  ill-natured  in  her  jeal- 
ous 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  mother's  sisters,  were  dispersed  to  several  places,  where  they 
grew  up  till  my  uncle  Sir  John  St.  John  being  married  to  the  daugh- 
ter 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  most 
judgments  preferred  before  all  her  elder  sisters,  who,  something  en- 
vious at  it,  used  her  unkindly,  yet  all  the  suitors  that  came  to  them 
still  turned  their  addresses  to  her,  which  she  in  her  youthful  innocen- 
cy  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  un- 
cle's wife,  who  had  a  mother's  kindness  for  her,  persuaded  her  to 
remove  herself  from  her  sister's  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  boarded  in  a  French  minister's  house, 
to  learn  the  language,  that  minister  having  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  she  liked  so  much  better  than  our  ser- 
vice, that  she  could  have  been  contented  to  have  lived  there,  had 
not  a  powerful  passion  in  her  heart  drawn  her  back.  But  at  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 
practices  and  treacheries,  drawn  out  of  his  senses,  and  into  the  mar- 
riage of  a  person  whom,  when  he  recovered  his  reason,  he  hated  : 
but  that  served  only  to  augment  his  misfortune ;  and  the  circumstan- 
ces of  that  story  not  being  necessary  to  be  here  inserted,  I  shall  only 
add,  that  my  mother  lived  in  my  uncle's  house,  secretly  disconten- 
ted at  this  accident,  but  was  comforted  by  the  kindness  of  my  un- 
cle'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 


MRS.    LUCY    HUTCHINSON.  109 

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  subtile,  wicked  persons,  and  my  mother  endeav- 
oring to  vindicate  her  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,  wit)  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  be- 
fore languished  of  a  consumption  that  succeeded  a  fever  which  he 
got  in  the  unfortunate  voyage  to  the  Isle  of  Rhe. 

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  obliga- 
tions. 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  liv- 
ing books  of  men's  conversations  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  indul- 
gent husband,  and  no  less  kind  to  his  children  ;  a  most  noble  master, 
who  thought  it  not  enough  to  maintain  his  servants  honorably  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  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  glorious  captains  were  re- 
duced 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  re- 


110  MEMOIRS  OF 

deemed  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  equal- 
ly 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  honor,  so  he  contemned  vain  titles ;  and  though  in  his 
youth  he  accepted  an  addition  to  his  birth,  in  his  riper  years  he  refu- 
sed a  baronetcy,  which  the  king  offered  him.  He  was  severe  in  the 
regulating  of  his  family,  especially  would  not  endure  the  least  im- 
modest behavior  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  nobler  sex.  Fi- 
delity 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 
industry,  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  virtues  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  desolate  family  could  receive  in  his  death.  Nev- 
er 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  liberalities  to  strangers,  or  he  contradict 
any  of  her  kindnesses  to  all  her  relations ;  her  house  being  a  com- 
mon home  to  all  of  them,  and  a  nursery  to  their  children.  He  gave 
her  a  noble  allowance  of  300/.  a  year  for  her  own  private  expense, 
and  had  given  her  all  her  own  portion  to  dispose  of  how  she  pleas- 
ed, 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  chemistry,  she  suffered  them  to  make  their 
rare  experiments  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.  But  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  comforted  them,  so  that  they  felt  not  the  inconven- 
ience of  a  prison  who  were  in  that  place.  She  was  not  less  bounti- 
ful to  many  poor  widows  and  orphans,  whom  officers  of  higher  and 


MRS.    LUCY    HUTCHINSON.  Ill 

lower  rank  had  left  behind  them  as  objects  of  charity.  Her  own 
house  was  filled  with  distressed  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  educa- 
tion 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  private  reading  and  de- 
votions. 

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  indefatiga- 
ble labors  and  watching,  preserved  him  a  great  while  longer  than  the 
physicians  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,  under  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  hu- 
miliation that  I  did  not  more  improve  it.  After  my  mother  had  had 
three  sons  she  was  very  desirous  of  a  daughter ;  and  when  the  wo- 
men 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  complex- 
ion and  beauty  than  is  usual  in  so  young  children,  that  I  should  not  live, 
my  mother  became  fonder  of  me,  and  more  endeavored  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  walk- 
ing 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  extraordina- 
ry eminency ;  which  thing,  like  such  vain  prophecies,  wrought,  as  far 
as  it  could,  its  own  accomplishment  :*  for  my  father  and  mother  fan- 
cying me  then  beautiful,  and  more  than  ordinarily  apprehensive,  ap- 
plied all  their  cares,  and  spared  no  cost  to  improve  me  in  my  educa- 
tion, which  procured  me  the  admiration  of  those  that  flattered  my  pa- 
rents. By  the  time  I  was  four  years  old  I  read  English  perfectly, 
and  having  a  great  memory,  I  was  carried  to  sermons,  and  while  T 
was  very  young  could  remember  and  repeat  them  exactly,  and  being 


*  This  is  an  ingenious  way  of  accounting  for  the  fulfilment  of  superstitious  pre- 
dictions 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  education;  and  this  again  caused  her  mind  and 
disposition  to  take  that  singular  stamp  which  attracted  the  notice  of  Mr.  Hutchin- 
son, and  led  her  to  the  highest  situation  that  she  could  wish  for. 


112  MEMOIRS    OF 

caressed,  the  love  of  praise  tickled  me,  and  made  me  attend  more 
needfully.  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  ani- 
mated 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  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 
progress  I  made  in  my  learning,  which  very  well  pleased  my  father, 
though  my  mother  would  have  been  contented  I  had  not  so  wholly 
addicted  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  harpsichord  but  when  my  masters  were  with  me ;  and  for 
my  needle,  I  absolutely  hated  it ;  play  among  other  children  I  de- 
spised, 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  acceptable,  and  living  in  the  house  with  many 
persons  that  had  a  great  deal  of  wit,  and  very  profitable  serious  dis- 
courses being  frequent  at  my  father's  table  and  in  my  mother's  draw- 
ing room,  I  was  very  attentive  to  all,  and  gathered  up  things  that  I 
would  utter  again  to  the  great  admiration  of  many  that  took  my  memo- 
ry and  imitation  for  wit.  It  pleased  God,  that  through  the  good  instruc- 
tions of  my  mother,  and  the  sermons  she  carried  me  to,  I  was  con- 
vinced 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  dis- 
courses to  good  subjects ;  but  I  thought,  when  I  had  done  this  on  the 
Lord's  day,  and  every  day  performed  my  due  tasks  of  reading  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  confident  in  all  the  loves  that 
were  managed  among  my  mother's  young  women ;  and  there  was 
none  of  them  but  had  many  lovers,  and  some  particular  friends  be- 
loved above  the  rest. 

Here  Mrs.  Hutchinson's  story  of  herself  abruptly  breaks  off;  but, 
from  the  memoirs  of  Col.  Hutchinson,  we  learn  some  further  inter- 


MRS.     LUCY    HUTCHINSON.  113 

esting  particulars.  Mr.  Hutchinson  was  in  his  twenty  second  year 
when  he  conceived  a  romantic  prepossession  in  favor  of  Miss  Aps- 
ley,  from  what  he  heard  of  her  in  a  large  party;  and  at  their  first 
interview,  this  prepossession  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  to- 
wards 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  jus- 
tifies such  a  view  of  the  whole  transaction.  The  passage  in  which 
Mrs.  Hutchinson,  speaking  of  herself  in  the  third  person,  describes 
the  warmth  of  Mr.  Hutchinson's  attachment,  and  ascribes  to  his  in- 
fluence the  formation  of  her  own  character,  is  too  beautiful  and  char- 
acteristic 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  kind- 
ness, had  a  most  high  obliging  esteem  of  her,  yet  still  considered 
honor,  religion,  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  res- 
pect 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,  reflect- 
ing truly,  though  but  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  mist, 
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  honor  and  her  virtue 
were  his  mistresses,  and  these  (like  Pygmalion'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,  1G38.  In  October,  1641,  they  took 
up  their  residence  at  Mr.  Hutchinson's  seat  at  Owthorpe  in  Notting- 
hamshire, 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  pub- 
lic transactions  in  which  the  Colonel,  her  husband,  took  so  distin- 
guished a  part.     Although  her  own  brother,   Sir  Allen  Apsley,   and 

15 


114 


MEMOIRS    OS" 


the  greater  part  of  her  relations,  took  part  with  the  King,  Mrs. 
Hutchinson  warmly  concurred  in  the  patriotic  devotion  of  her  hus- 
band to  the  cause  of  his  country.  When  Sir  Richard  Byron,  his 
relative,  endeavored,  through  the  medium  of  a  friend,  to  gain  over 
the  Colonel,  then  governor  of  Nottingham  Castle,  to  the  royal  inter- 
est, using  as  an  argument,  that  the  loss  of  his  whole  estate  was  in- 
evitable 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  noth- 
ing else,  so  much  of  a  Byron'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  wil- 
ling 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  occasions,  the  heroic,  and  at  the 
same  time  amiable  character  of  this  extraordinary  woman,  was  illus- 
triously displayed,  too  often  in  contrast  with  the  spirit  of  those  dark 
and  troubled  times.  The  following  passage  from  the  Memoirs,  af- 
fords 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  Captain  Palmer,  and  another  minister,  having  nothing  else 
to  do,  walked  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  plasters  in  her  closet,  with 
the  assistance  of  a  gentleman  that  had  some  skill,  dressed  all  their 
wounds,  whereof  some  were  dangerous,  being  all  shots,  with  such 
good  success  that  they  were  all  cured  in  convenient  time. ,  After 
our  hurt  men  were  dressed,  as  she  stood  at  her  chamber  door,  see- 
ing 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  do- 
ing, Captain  Palmer  came  in  and  told  her,  his  soul  abhorred  to  see 
this  favor  to  the  enemies  of  God.  She  replied,  she  had  done  noth- 
ing but  what  she  thought  was  her  duty,  in  humanity  to  them,  as  fel- 
low 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 


MRS.    LUCY    HUTCHINSON.  115 

others  the  Governor  had  called  to  meat  with  him.  For  which  Cap- 
tain Palmer  bellowed  loudly  against  him,  as  a  favorer  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  favored,  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  muttering  against  him  and  his  wife  for  these  poor  hu- 
manities." 

Mrs.  Hutchinson's  singular  magnanimity  appeared  on  another  oc- 
casion, when,  having  discovered  a  conspiracy  against  the  Colonel, 
during  his  absence  from  Ovvthorpe,  in  which  the  family  chaplain,  her 
own  waiting-woman,  and  two  more  servants,  were  implicated,  she 
contented  herself  with  taking  active  measures  to  defeat  the  plot,  dis- 
missing 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  London,  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  coun- 
try without  him."  On  their  return,  having  ascertained  that  the  chap- 
lain had  been  Ivie's  confederate,  Mrs.  Hutchinson  "told  him  private- 
ly 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  of  comment :  it 
shewed  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  favor  extended  to  him  in  the  first 
instance.  She  saw  that  he  was  ambitious  of  being  a  public  sacri- 
fice, 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  concealed  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  pres- 
ent 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 


116  MEMOIRS   OF 

thought  she  had  never  deserved  so  well  of  him,  as  in  the  endeavors 
and  labors  she  exercised  to  bring  him  off,  never  displeased  him  more 
in  her  life,  and  had  much  ado  to  persuade  him  to  be  contented  with 
his  deliverance."  But  all  her  solicitude  for  his  safety  could  not  in- 
duce her  to  listen  for  a  moment  to  any  measure  which  would  secure 
it  at  the  expense  of  honor.  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  shew  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  honor  and  conscience ;  that 
she  knew  nothing  of  state  managements,  or,  if  she  did,  she  would  not 
establish  herself  upon  any  man's  blood  and  ruin."  She  tried,  in- 
deed, to  persuade  the  Colonel  to  leave  England,  which,  if  he  had 
done,  he  would  probably  have  lived  to  see  the  happy  re-establishment 
of  our  constitutional  liberty,  and  to  be  again  a  blessing  to  his  coun- 
try; 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  comfort,  not  envying  the  glories  and  hon- 
ors of  the  court,  nor  the  prosperity  of  the  wicked."  But,  on  the 
1  lth  of  October,  1663,  the  Colonel  was  put  under  arrest,  by  order 
of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  upon  alleged  suspicion  of  being  con- 
cerned 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  per- 
sonal 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  hus- 
band, according  to  his  own  will  and  express  injunctions,  in  patient 
resignation.  On  his  being  transferred,  still  without  trial  or  legal  cause 
of  imprisonment,  to  Sandown  Castle,  his  wife,  when  she  "understood 
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  daughter  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 


MRS.    LUCY    HUTCHINSON.  117 

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  pleasant  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 
befel  him."  On  the  3d  of  September,  Mrs.  Hutchinson  being  gone 
to  Ovvthorpe,  to  fetch  her  children,  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  returned  only  to  see  his  corpse,  and  to 
receive  through  his  brother  his  dying  message  :  "  Let  her,  as  she  is 
above  other  women,  shew  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  Ovvthorpe;  being, 
to  use  Mrs.  Hutchinson's  words,  "  brought  home  with  honor  to  his 
grave  through  the  dominions  of  his  murderers,  who  wrere  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  sur- 
vived 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  selling  the  estates,  the  sum  to  be  divided,  left  each  member  of 
the  family  in  straitened  circumstances.  Col.  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 
memory  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  gentleman  of  the  name  of  Orgill. 

The  "  Memoirs  of  Colonel  Hutchinson,"  have  raised  his  biogra- 
pher to  a  high  niche  among  the  literary  and  mora]  ornaments  of  her 
country.  The  eminent  qualities  of  heart  and  mind  which  are  dis- 
played in  that  work,  have  won  the  admiration  of  the  public,  notwith- 
standing what  many  persons  regard  as  the  Puritanic  cast  of  her  piety. 
In  her  religious  writings,*  the  same  qualities  are  not  less  conspicuous, 
united  with  a  degree  of  acquaintance  with  the  learning  then  most  in 


*"On  the   Principles  of  the  Christian  Religion;  and,  On  Theology.     By  Mrs. 
Lucy  Hutchinson.     8vo.  London,  1817. 


118  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  improvement,  and,  it  is  conjectured,  at  an  earlier  period  of  her 
life.  The  latter  is  the  more  labored  and  scholastic  of  the  two, 
abounding  with  learned  references  to  the  Greek  and  Roman  clas- 
sics, and  to  Jewish  as  well  as  Christian  writers ;  but  it  is  less  prac- 
tical 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  sim- 
plicity, genuine  humility,  liberality,  and  exalted  piety  of  the  writer's 
character.  Some  extracts  from  this  work  will  form  the  most  appro- 
priate 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 
bewail  it  as  my  neglect  of  fixing  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  writen,  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  ap- 
pearance 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  erroneous  practices  and  opin- 
ions of  that  sect,  and  reject  the  benefit  they  might  have  by  spiritual 
converse  with  Christians  of  other  judgments ;  at  least  receive  noth- 
ing 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  received  of  God,  whether 
you  will  receive  it  from  me  or  not.  Sects  are  a  great  sin,  and  Chris- 
tians ought  all  to  live  in  the  unity  of  the  Spirit ;  and  though  it  can- 
not be  but  that  offences  will  come  in  the  Church,  yet,  wo  be  to  them 


MRS.    LUCY    HUTCHINSON.  119 

by  whom  they  come.  Love  is  the  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  indisputa- 
ble 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  princi- 
ples and  grounds  which  I  have  here  collected  for  you,  think  I  might 
have  spared  my  pains,  and  sent  you  a  two-penny  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  understanding  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  mas- 
culine understanding  of  men,)  are  apt  to  entertain  fancies,  and  per- 
tinacious 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  interruptions  in  setting  down  these  things,  which  I  send  you  as  a 
testimony  of  my  best  and  most  tender  love  to  you,  who  cannot  con- 
sider 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  affection- 
ate 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  ad- 


120  MEMOIRS    OF 

mirable,  far  above  all  that  the  tongues  of  men  and  angels  can  ex- 
press 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. 

"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  endeavor  to  magnify  his  name. 

"  6.  The  love  of  God  makes  true  believers  to  love  all  his  ordi- 
nances, 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  ad- 
vancement 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  belov- 
ed 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 
remembered.  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  endeavors  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  conversa- 
tions savor  nothing  of  God,  are  our  beloved  and  delightful  compan- 
ions ?  This  is  a  sore  evil,  and  deserves  a  deep  consideration  and  re- 
flection. Even  the  saints  themselves,  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 


MRS.    LUCY    HUTCHINSON.  121 

his  wonders  manifested  to  the  sons  of  men  in  his  great  works  of 
creation,  providence,  redemption,  sanctification.  Wh  odeclare  to 
each  other  the  goodness  of  God  daily  exercised  to  their  souls,  and 
call  on  their  friends  and  neighbors  to  bless  the  Lord  with  them  and 
for  them  ?  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  si- 
lence, or  else  have  their  hearts  disturbed  from  the  contemplation  of 
the  dear  object  of  their  souls,  and  led  astray  in  the  wilderness  of  the 
world." 

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  gentle  curb  which  the  love  of  God  puts,  as  a  bridle,  on  our 
wild  affections,  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  favor  more  than  heaven.  Heaven  would  not 
be  heaven  to  a  true  child  of  God,  if  God  were  not  there  in  his  grace 
and  favor ;  and  were  it  possible  there  could  be  a  hell  where  God's 
favor  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 
favor,  there  is  no  hell  in  the  greatest  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, 
xhis  reverential  fear  begets  a  holy  care  and  watch  in  the  soul,  sus- 
pecting 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  a  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  defense, 
and  not  our  prison ;  our  badge  of  honor,  and  not  our  chain  of  bon- 
dage ;  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  so  undecently  into  his  presence." 

16 


122 


MRS.   CATHARINE   CLARKE, 

WIFE  OF  THE  REV.  SAMUEL  CLARKE. 


Catharine  Overton  (for  such  was  her  former  name)  was  born 
at  Bedworth,  in  the  county  of  Warwick,  four  miles  from  Coventry, 
Feburary  25,  1602,  of  religious  parents.  Her  father  was  Mr.  Val- 
entine 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  was  Mrs.  Isaverton,  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  more  freedom  at- 
tend his  holy  calling. 

It  pleased  God  betimes  to  plant  the  seeds  of  grace  in  her  heart, 
which  first  discovered  themselves  when  she  was  about  fifteen  years 
old ;  at  which  time  God  discovered  to  her  the  corruption  of  her  na- 
ture, and  some  common  miscarriages  which  are  incident  to  youth. 
These  made  such  a  deep  impression  upon  her  tender  years  that 
whereas  she  was  naturally  of  a  cheerful,  sanguine  constitution,  she 
now  became  serious,  and  somewhat  melancholy.  Hereupon  Satan, 
that  old  serpent  and  enemy  of  our  souls,  assaulted  her  with  many 
and  various  temptations,  whereby  he  sought  to  quench  these  heaven- 
ly sparks,  and  to  stifle  this  new  creature  in  its  first  conception.  But 
by  frequent  reading  the  sacred  Scriptures,  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.  Yet  did 
these  conflicts  continue  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,  by  her  parents, 
sent  to  Siwel,  in  Northamptonshire,  to  wait  upon  a  young  lady  that 
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  therewith,  that  1  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 


MEMOIRS,  StC.  123 

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 
turn  to  bring  me  to  heaven. 

"  Hereupon  I  fell  to  examination  of  myself,  and  though  T  could 
not  find  the  marks  of  a  strong,  yet,  through  God's  mercy,  1  found 
the  marks  of  a  true,  though  but  weak  faith,  which  was  some  comfort 
and  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 
enjoyed,  I  grew  very  melancholy.  I  began  also  to  have  great  work- 
ings 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  advantage, 
through  my  ignorance  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  under  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  contained  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  as  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  frequent- 
ly 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  no  body's  else ;  but  God,  who  is 
rich  and  infinite  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  run- 
ning out  of  my  wits.  Thus,  by  reason  of  my  continual  grief  and  an- 
guish 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  they  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 


124  MEMOIRS  OF 

means,  both  public  and  private,  she  did  thrive  and  grow  in  grace  and 
in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Savior  Jesus  Christ,  as  she  in- 
creased and  grew  in  days  and  years ;  and  therewith  also  learned  and 
exercised  all  parts  of  housewifery,  which  might  fit  her  for  government 
of  a  family,  when  God  should  call  her  thereto. 

February  2,  1625,  which  was  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,  who  at  that  time  was  minister  at 
Shotwick,  four  miles  beyond  West  Chester,  who  looked  upon  this 
match  as  the  greatest  outward  temporal  blessing  that  ever  God  be- 
stowed 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  to  take  notice  of  some  of  those  virtues  and 
graces  wherewith  God  had  beautified  and  adorned  her  soul. 

Her  piety  was  signal  and  exemplary  :  from  her  first  conversion  to 
the  hour  of  her  death,  her  life  was  not  stained  with  any  scandalous 
sin,  which  might  be  a  blemish  either  to  her  person,  profession,  or  re- 
lations. 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 :  from  whose  sermons,  and  God's  blessing  upon  them,  she 
always  sucked  some  spiritual  nourishment,  and  came  home  refreshed ; 
and  when  days  of  humiliation  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  pri- 
vate, rising  earlier  upon  them  than  upon  others,  especially  when  she 
had  many  young  children  about  her,  that  so  she  might  have  oppor- 
tunity 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  gesture  at  pray- 
er was  kneeling,  thinking  that  she  could  not  be  too  humble  before 
God.  Her  usual  manner  was  to  write  sermons,  to  prevent  drowsi- 
ness and  distractions,  and  to  help  memory ;  whereof  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  hindrance  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,  except  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  spe- 
cial notice  of  such  passages  as  most  concerned  herself:  she  was  fre- 
quent and  constant  in  secret  prayer  and  meditation  :  she  also  read 
much  in  other  good  books,  especially  in  the  works  of  those  eminent 


MRS.    CATHARINE    CLARKE.  125 

and  excellent  divines,  Mr.  Ambrose  and  Mr.  Reyner  :  and  in  read- 
ing 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  up- 
on that  subject.  a  The  fruits  of  her  holiness  manifested  themselves 
in  the  exercise  of  those  graces  which  God  required  of  her :  she  was 
not  a  wordy,  but  a  real  Christian  ;  a  true  Israelite,  in  whom  was  no 
guile.  Her  endeavor  was  to  yield  universal,  constant,  cheerful,  and 
sincere  obedience  to  all  God's  commandments,  and  wherein  she  fail- 
ed 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  wri- 
ter," taking  opportunities  to  speak  to  the  edification  of  those  with 
whom  she  conversed. 

She  filled  every  relation  with  the  exercise  of  such  graces  and  du- 
ties as  were  suitable  thereto,  knowing  that  where  relative  duties  are 
neglected,  and  not  made  conscience  of,  there  also  our  pretended  re- 
ligion 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.  She  never  rose  from  the  table,  even  when 
they  were  alone,  but  she  made  a  courtesy ;  she  never  drank  to  him 
without  bowing  ;  his  word  was  a  law  to  her ;  she  often  denied  her- 
self, to  gratify  him  ;  and  when  in  her  sickness  and  weakness  he  men- 
tioned her  case  in  particular  to  God  in  his  prayers,  the  duty  being  en- 
ded, she  would  make  him  a  courtesy,  and  thank  him.  Tn  case  of 
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  in- 
ability to  perform  the  duty  himself.  Her  modesty  and  chastity  were 
rare  and  remarkable;  but  fitter  to  be  conceived  by  those  who  know 
what  belongs  to  them,  than  to  be  expressed  in  words ;  for  there  is  a 
conjugal  as  well  as  a  virginal  chastity. 

In  case  of  her  husband's  sickness,  she  was  a  tender  and  diligent 
nurse  about  him,  skilful  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  removes,  he  provided  for  her ;  and  with  such  apparel 
and  diet  as  his  means,  which  was  sometimes  short  would  allow.  She 
never  murmured  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  nourished  them  all  with  her  own  breasts; 
and  knew  how  to  order  them  both  in  health  and  sickness.     She  lov- 


126 


MEMOIRS    OF 


ed  them  dearly  without  fondness ;  was  careful  to  give  them  nurture 
as  well  as  nourishment,  not  sparing  the  rod  when  there  was  just  oc- 
casion ;  and  as  soon  as  they  were  capable,  she  was  vigilant  and  dili- 
gent 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  instruction,  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  labored  to  build  them  up  in 
grace  and  godliness ;  and  God  was  pleased  to  let  her  see  to  her 
great  joy  and  comfort,  the  fruit  of  her  prayers,  and  pains  in  keeping 
them  from  scandalous  courses,  and  in  working  grace  in  most  of  their 
hearts.  When  they  were  married  and  had  children,  she  was  fre- 
quently making  one  thing  or  other  for  them. 

As  a  mistress  she  was  careful,  as  far  as  she  could,  to  bring  such  as 
were  religious,  at  least  seemingly,  into  her  family ;  and  having  occa- 
sion to  be  much  in  their  company,  she  would  take  all  occasions  and 
opportunities  to  manifest  her  love  and  care  of  their  souls,  by  fre- 
quently dropping  in  good  counsel  and  wholesome  instructions,  by 
catechising,  inquiring  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  encouraged  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  or- 
der the  same.  She  was  careful,  so  far  as  possibly  she  could,  to  pre- 
vent 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  com- 
petency without  superfluity ;  and  all  so  neat  and  well  ordered,  that 
none  who  came  to  her  table,  wherof  some  were  persons  of  honor 
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  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 


MRS.    CATHARINE    CLARKE.  127 

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,  accor- 
ding to  that  estate  wherewith  God  had  intrusted  her.  She  was  rea- 
dy to  relieve  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  melting  heart,  and  truly  sympathized  with  the  church 
and  people  of  God,  whether  at  home  or  abroad,  in  all  their  suffer- 
ings and  rejoiced  in  their  prosperity. 

Her  humility  was  not  inferior  to  her  other  graces.  She  had  al- 
ways a  very  low  esteem  of  herself,  and  was  ready  to  prefer  others 
before  herself,  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  subject  to  one  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  honor  prefer  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 ;  she  would  have  her  hand  in  every 
business.  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  sub- 
mission 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  de- 
cease. 

"  In  my  younger  days  my  spiritual  afflictions  and  inward  troubles 
continued  long  before  I  could  attain  to  any  assurance  of  my  salva- 
tion ;  but  of  late  years  it  hath  pleased  God,  of  his  infinite  mercy  and 


128  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  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  under- 
valued 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  husband  and  family,  in  raising  her  up  again  almost 
beyond  hope  and  expectation  :  and  she  was  always  a  gainer  by  her 
afflictions,  God  making  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  according  to  his  purpose :"  for  after  those  fits  she 
walked  more  humbly,  holily,  fruitfully  and  faithfully,  both  in  her  gen- 
eral and  particular  calling,  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  din- 
ner 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  shewed  her  great  mercy,  and  had  respect  to  her  weak- 
ness, in  that  during  all  the  time  of  her  languishing  she  was  free  from 
sickness  and  pain,  only  sometimes  she  was  troubled  with  some  stitch- 
es, which  yet  were  tolerable,  not  violent ;  she  was  also  troubled  with 
some  vapors,  which  made  her  breath  very  short ;  yet  had  she  a  pretty 
good  appetite,  and  relished  her  food  well  till  about  two  days  before 
her  death ;  but  then  though  she  did  eat  yet  she  found  little  taste  in 
her  meat.  Her  sleep  was  pretty  good,  and  always  very  quiet;  she 
was  never  ill  after  food  or  sleep  :  only  two  days  before  her  departure 
she  slept  little,  by  reason  of  the  continual  rattling  of  phlegm  in  her 
throat,   when  she  wanted  strength  to  expectorate. 

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. 


MRS.  CATHARINE  CLARKE.  129 

Her  youngest  son  taking  his  leave  of  her  (he  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 
continued  till  within  two  minutes  of  death ;  and  a  little  before,  her 
daughter  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  color  was  gone.  She 
closed  up  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  old  and  about  four  months, 
and  had  been  married  almost  fifty  years. 

Thus  did  this  holy  woman  wear  out,  not  rust  out :  she  served  God 
in  her  generation,  and  then  retired  into  that  place  where  is  health 
without  sickness;  day  without  night;  plenty  without  famine  ;  riches 
without  poverty  ;  mirth  without  mourning ;  singing  without  sighing  ; 
life  without  death;  and  these,  with  infinitely  more,  to  all  eternity. 
There  is  unspotted  chastity;  unstained  honor ;  unparalleled  beauty  ; 
there  is  the  tree  of  life  in  the  midst  of  this  paradise  :  there  is  the 
river  that  waters  the  garden :  there  is  the  vine  flourishing,  and  the 
pomegranate  budding :  there  is  the  banqueting-house,  where  are  all 
those  delicacies  and  rarities  wherewith  God  himself  is  delighted. 
There  shall  the  saints  be  adorned  as  a  bride,  with  rare  pearls,  and 
sparkling  diamonds  of  glory,  a  glory  fitter  to  be  believed  than  possi- 
ble to  be  discoursed :  "  an  exceeding,  excessive,  eternal  weight  of 
glory,"  2  Cor.  iv.  17.  Even  such  a  weight,  as  if  the  body  were  not 
upheld  by  the  power  of  God,  it  were  impossible  but  that  it  should 
faint  under  it,  as  an  eminent  divine  speaketh. 

After  Mrs.  Clarke's  decease,  there  was  found  in  her  cabinet  a  pa- 
per which,  by  frequent  using,  was  almost  worn  out.  It  contained  a 
collection  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.  1, 
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. 

17 


130 


MEMOIRS  OF 


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. 

"  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."     Job,  x.  28. 

"  Who  are  kept  by  the  power  of  God,  through  faith  unto  salva- 
tion."    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. 

"  Christ  is  the  end  of  the  law  for  righteousness  to  every  one  that 
believeth."     Rom.  iv.  10. 

"  It  is  God  that  justifieth ;  who  is  he  that  condemneth  ?"  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  rf  temptation,  it  is  hoped  that  they  may  prove  so  to  others, 
and  tl  ore  for  their  sakes  they  are  here  set  down.  And  hereby 
it  appears  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  another  little  book,  which  was  found  after  her  death,  she  gives 
this  account  of  herself,  and  of  God's  gracious  dealing  with  her. 

From  the  beginning  of  God's  shewing  me  mercy  in  my  conversion, 
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 
thankfulness  for  such  invaluable  mercies.  And  then  she  set  down 
the  time,  manner,  and  means  of  her  conversion,  and  afterwards  pro- 
-    %r   thus  : — 

.  hat  have  been  my  experiences  of  God's  gracious  dealings 
.  me  at  several  times,  under  afflictions  ?" 


MRS.   CATHARINE  CLARKE.  131 

"  As  when  personal  afflictions  have  lain  upon  me,  in  regard  of  bo- 
dily 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  un- 
der great  fears,  in  the  time  of  our  civil  wars.  Or,  when  I  have  been 
under  spiritual  desertion,  by  God's  hiding  his  face  and  favor  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  tempta- 
tions." In  all  which  cases  she  left  a  memorial  of  God's  gracious 
dispensations  towards  her.     I  shall  set  down  only  a  few  of  them. 

"  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 
questioned  whether  I  was  a  child  of  God  or  no ;  whether  I  had  part 
in  Jesus  Christ  or  no  ;  whether  1  should  ever  attain  to  life  and  salva- 
tion or  no  :  and  this  made  me  walk  with  a  drooping  and  disconso- 
late spirit,  so  that  I  could  take  no  true  comfort  in  any  thing.  But 
though  '  heaviness  endured  for  a  night,  yet  joy  came  in  the  morn- 
ing,' 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  1  was  brought  oft  upon  my 
knees  to  beg  support  from  God,  and  to  crave  his  grace  and  assist- 
ance that  I  might  not  break  out  to  speak  or  act  any  thing  whereby 
God's  name  might  be  dishonored,  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  pre- 
serve 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  whatso- 
ever might  provoke  him  to  withdraw  the  evidences  of  his  love  from 
me,  without  the  sense  whereof  I  could  take  little  or  no  comfort  in 
any  thing. 

"  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  Je- 
sus 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 


132  MEMOIRS    OF 

faith ;  and  all  through  my  own  fault  and  negligence.     The  Lord  par- 
don  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,  he. 

"  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  shewed 
me  the  vanity  and  uncertainty  of  the  most  satisfying  comforts  that 
this  world  can  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  distemper,  when  the  heart  is  not  in  an  holy  frame  and  temper, 
is  a  burden  insupportable.  If  God  hides  his  face  from  us,  and  with- 
draws the  evidences  of  his  love,  and  denies  to  assist  us  by  his 
strength,  we  can  neither  do  nor  suffer  any  thing  :  and  on  the  con- 
trary I  found,  by  experience,  that  I  could  with  much  cheerfulness, 
holy  submission  and  willingness,  bear  great  distempers,  when  I  en- 
joyed the  favor  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.' 
Micha.  vii.  9.  And,  *  though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  I  trust  in  him.' 
Job,  xiii.  15. 

"  Secondly,  I  found  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, 
because  in  health  we  have  liberty  and  opportunity  to  enjoy  the  pub- 
lic ordinances  with  others  of  God's  people,  whereby  the  graces  of 
God's  people  are  quickened,  strengthened,  and  increased  in  us; 
which  otherwise,  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  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  creatures;  whereas  in  sickness  the  daintiest  food 
is  loathsome  and  troublesome.  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, 


MRS.   CATHARINE  CLARKE.  133 

"  First,  When  in  the  beginning  of  our  civil  wars  and  distractions  I 
was  sometimes  overwhelmed  with  base  and  distrustful  fears,  occa- 
sioned by  my  not  acting  faith  upon  the  promises,  and  not  remember- 
ing my  former  experiences,  nor  considering  God's  love,  power,  and 
fidelity  to  his  children,  in  performing  his  so  many  gracious  promises, 
made  unto  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  distrust  and  diffidence,  praying  God  to  assist  me 
therein,  and  found  more  courage  than  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 
dangers ;  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  ex- 
perience, 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  comfort- 
ed my  heart,  and  upheld  my  spirit :  when  also  new  storms  have  aris- 
en and  unexpected  deliverances  have  followed,  I  have  resolved,  and 
do  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  up- 
on 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  endeavors  1  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,  through  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 


134  MEMOIRS  OF 

renewing  his  covenant  of  grace,  and  sealing  unto  us  the  pardon  of 
our  sins  in  the  blood  of  Christ ;  so  he  gives  us  leave  to  engage  our- 
selves, by  renewing  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  aft- 
er to  shew  me  and  to  make  good  to  my  soul  that  precious  and  com- 
fortable 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  wonderful  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  him,  that  so  Satan  may  not  entrap 
me  in  his  snares  through  unbelief,  but  that  I  may  resist  '  him  stead- 
fast in  the  faith :'  for  I  am  not  altogether  ignorant  of  his  devices. 
God's  promise  is,  that  '  in  all  these  things  we  shall  be  more  than  con- 
querors, 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,  rec- 
tor of  Cotgrave,  in  Nottinghamshire,  who  died  the  18th  of  September. 

Thus  as  the  waves  of  the  sea  follow  one  another,  so  God  is  pleas- 
ed 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 
manifold  trials  and  temptations,  as  saith  the  Apostle.  1  Pet.  i.  6, 
"  Now  for  a  season  ye  are  in  heaviness,  if  need  be,  through  manifold 
temptations;"  to  keep  us  under,  and  to  make  us  the  better  to  remem- 
ber ourselves. 

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  af- 
fections, 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 
melancholy,  and  my  natural  strength  was  so  abated,  that  little  food 
served  my  turn,  and  I  judged  that  I  could  not  live  long  in  such  a 
condition. 


MRS.    CATHARINE    CLARK.  135 

Here  1  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  ar- 
guments, 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,  con- 
sidering 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  "present  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  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  com- 
forts, and  who  "waits  to  be  gracious"  unto  those  that  trust  in  him. 
Yet  surely  I  was  not  without  many  temptations  in  this  hour  of  dark- 
ness, from  that  subtle  adversary,  who  always  stands  at  watch,  to  insin- 
uate 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  praise  his 
holy  name!"  For  he  hath  remembered  me  in  my  low  and  troubled 
estate,  because  "his  mercy  endureth  forever." 

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  maybe  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. 

After  her  decease  there  was  also  found  in  her  cabinet  a  paper  with 
this  superscription  : — My  will  and  desire  is,  with  the  leave  of  my 
husband,  to  bestow  upon  my  children  these  things  as  tokens  of  my 
motherly  affections,  and  that  I  may  be  remembered  by  them.  She 
began  with  her  husband  ;  and  what  she  gave*  to  him  and  all  the  rest, 


136  MEMOIRS,    &£C. 

were  all  wrapped  up  in  several  papers,  and  each  name  endorsed  on 
the  outside  to  whom  it  did  belong.  And  then  concludes  all  thus : — 
"But  above  all,  my  prayers  unto  God  are,  that  he  would  especially 
bestow  upon  you  all  needful  saving  graces,  whereby  you  may  be  ena- 
bled to  glorify  his  great  name  in  those  several  places  and  callings 
wherein  he  hath  set  you.     Amen,  amen." 

She  left  also  legacies  to  some  poor  neighbors,  as  also  ten  shillings 
to  Mr.  W.  the  minister  of  the  place,  to  buy  him  a  mourning  ring, 
concluding  thus : 

"If  God  shall  please  to  bring  me  to  my  grave  in  peace,  let  this  be 
the  text  at  my  funeral,  Eph.  ii.  8.  '  for  by  grace  ye  are  saved,  through 
faith. '  This  Scripture  I  was  oft  put  upon  to  have  recourse  to  in 
times  of  temptations  and  desertion." 

Thus  she  lived,  adorning  in  all  things  the  doctrine  of  the  Savior ; 
and  died  in  the  joyful  expectation  of  that  rest  which  remaineth  for 
rhe  people  of  God. 


137 


THE   COUNTESS   OF  CARBERY 


The  following  character  is  extracted  from  a  sermon  preached  at 
the  funeral  of  the  Countess  of  Carbery,  (the  lady  of  Richard,  Earl 
of  Carbery,  who  died  in  the  prime  of  life,  in  the  year  1650,)  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  nar- 
rative 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  w7ent  to  weep  over  the  grave  of  their  broth- 
er, Christ  met  them  there,  and  preached  a  funeral  sermon  ;  discours- 
ing of  the  resurrection,  and  applying  to  the  purposes  of  faith,  and  con- 
fession of  Christ,  and  glorification  of  God  :  we  have  no  other,  we  can 
have  no  better  precedent  to  follow  ;  and  now  that  we  are  come  to 
wreep  over  the  grave  of  our  dear  sister,  this  rare  personage,  we  can- 
not 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,  in- 
deed, fair  and  honorable ;  but  having  the  blessing  to  be  descended 
from  worthy  and  honored  ancestors,  and  herself  to  be  adopted  and 
ingrafted  into  a  more  noble  family,  yet  she  felt  such  outward  appen- 
dages to  be  none  of  hers,  because  not  of  her  choice,  but  the  pur- 
chase of  the  virtues  of  others,  which  although  they  did  engage  her  to 
do  noble  things,  yet  they  would  upbraid  all  degenerate  and  less  honor- 
able lives  than  were  those,  which  began  and  increased  the  honor  of 
the  families.  Accordingly,  myself  have  been  a  witness  of  it,  how 
this  excellent  lady  would,  by  an  act  of  humility  and  Christian  abstrac- 
tion, strip  herself  of  all  that  fair  appendage  of  exterior  honor  which 
decked  her  person  and  her  fortune  ;  arid  desired  to  be  owned  by 
nothing  but  what  was  her  own,  that  she  might  only  be  esteemed  hon- 
orable according  to  that  which  is  the  honor  of  a  Christian  and  a  wise 
person. 

She  had  a  strict  and  severe  education,  and  it  was  one  of  God's  gra- 
ces and  favors  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 

18 


138  CHARACTER    OF 

severe  education  to  chastise  the  forwardness  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. 

She  was  married  young ;  in  passing  through  which  line  of  prov- 
idence she  had  the  art  to  secure  her  eternal  interest,  by  turning 
her  condition  into  duty,  and  expressing  her  duty  in  the  greatest  emi- 
nency  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  wo- 
men :  and  although  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  improve  that  interest  which  he  had  in  her  affec- 
tion to  the  advantages  of  God  and  of  religion  ;  and  she  would  de- 
light 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  kind- 
ness towards  her  children,  there  hath  seldom  been  seen  a  stricter  and 
more  curious  care  of  their  persons,  their  deportment,  their  nature, 
their  disposition,  their  learning,  and  their  customs ;  and  if  ever  kind- 
ness 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  severer  part,  by  her  more  tender  and  forward  kind- 
ness. 

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  por- 
tions every  day  ;  which  she  read,  not  to  the  purposes  of  vanity  and  im- 
pertinent 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 
knowledge  and  love  of  God  and  of  her  neighbors,  to  make  her  more 
humble,  and  to  teach  her  to  despise  the  world  and  all  its  gilded  van- 
ities ;  and  that  she  might  entertain  passions  wholly  in  design  and  or- 
der 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  delighted  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 


LADY    CARBERY.  139 

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 
reading  and  meditating,  and  the  necessary  offices  of  household  gov- 
ernment, 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  1  had  sometimes 
the  honor  to  minister  to  her,  I  can  give  this  certain  testimony,  that 
she  was  a  diligent,  watchful,  and  attentive  hearer,  and  to  this  had  so  ex- 
cellent a  judgment,  that  if  ever  I  saw  a  woman  whose  judgment  was  to 
be  revered,  it  was  hers  alone.  But  her  appetite  was  not  soon  satisfi- 
ed with  what  was  useful  to  her  soul ;  she  was  also  a  constant  reader 
of  sermons,  and  seldom  missed  to  read  one  every  day  ;  and  that  she 
might  be  full  of  instruction  and  holy  principles,  she  had  lately  design- 
ed to  have  a  large  book,  in  which  she  purposed  to  have  a  stock  of  re- 
ligion transcribed  in  such  assistances  as  she  would  choose,  that  she 
might  be  readily  furnished  and  instructed  to  every  good  work.  But 
God  prevented  that,  and  hath  filled  her  desires  not  out  of  cisterns  and 
little  aqueducts,  but  hath  carried  her  to  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  honor,  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  dishonors  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  Providence,  and  a  great  favor  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  endeavored  by 
justice  and  religion,  by  charity  and  honor,  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  discon- 
tents, which  are  the  allays  of  the  piety  of  the  most  holy  persons, 
yet  she  was  early  at  her  repentance ;  and  toward  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  discourses  were  more  full  of  religion,  her  prayers 
more  frequent,  her  charity  increasing,  her  forgiveness  more  forward, 
her  friendships  more  communicative,  her  passions  more  under  disci- 
pline ;  and  so  she  trimmed  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. 


140  CHARACTER    OF 

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  to- 
wards her  ocean  of  God  and  of  infinity  with  a  certain  and  silent  mo- 
tion. 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  neighbor  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  solemnities  and  famed  outsides  of  another's 
piety.  It  dwelt  upon  her  spirit,  and  was  incorporated  with  the  period- 
ical work  of  every  day  :  she  did  not  believe  that  religion  was  inten- 
ded to  minister  to  fame  and  reputation,  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  her- 
self; for  though  she  had  the  greatest  judgment  and  the  greatest  ex- 
perience 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  humility  and  arts  of  conceal- 
ment 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  consent,  from  thence  to  a  strange  credulity  and  expectation  of  it, 
and  without  the  violence  of  sickness  she  died ;  and  in  this  I  cannot 
but  adore  the  Providence,  and  admire  the  wisdom  and  infinite  mer- 
cies of  God  ;  for  having  a  tender  and  soft,  a  delicate  and  fine  consti- 
tution, 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  renew  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  vio- 


LADY    CARBERY.  1 4  I 

lence  to  her  spirit  and  the  decency  of  her  resolution.  But  God  that 
knew  her  fears  and  her  jealousy  concerning  herself,  fitted  her  with  a 
death  so  easy,  so  harmless,  so  painless,  that  it  did  not  put  her  pa- 
tience to  a  severe  trial.  It  was  not  (in  all  appearance)  of  so  much 
trouble  as  two  fits  of  a  common  ague ;  so  careful  was  God  to  de- 
monstrate 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  in- 
stance 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  solem- 
nities 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  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."  Concerning  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  pre- 
paration 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  unusual  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,  with- 
out curiosity  or  an  intemperate  palate  ;  she  spent  less  time  in  dress- 
ing than  many  servants ;  her  recreations  were  little  and  seldom,  her 
prayers  often,  her  reading  much;  she  was  of  a  most  noble  and  chari- 
table soul ;  a  great  lover  of  honorable  actions,  and  as  great  a  despiser 
of  base  things  ;  especially  loving  to  oblige  others,  and  very  unwilling 
to  be  in  arrear  to  any  upon  the  stock  of  courtesies  and  liberality  ;  so 
free  in  all  acts  of  favor  that  she  would  not  stay  to  hear  herself  thank- 
ed, 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  excel- 
lent friend,  and  singularly  dear  to  very  many,  especially  to  the  best 
and  most  discerning  persons,  to  all  that  conversed  with  her  and  could 


142  CHARACTER  OF 

understand  her  great  worth  and  sweetness ;  she  was  of  an  honorable, 
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  in- 
considerable 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,  discreet  and  humble.  If  we  remem- 
ber 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  honor  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  exacter  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  be- 
yond 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 — 

"  Et  cum  supremos  Lachesis  pervenerit  annos, 
"  Non  aliter  cineres  mando  jacere  meos." 

The  preceding  character  is  drawn  in  so  striking  and  comprehen- 
sive a  manner,  and'  its  peculiar  beauty  and  excellence  are  pointed 
out  with  so  correct  and  discriminating  a  judgment  by  the  pious  and 
eloquent  author,  that  but  little  need  be  added,  to  recommend  it  to 
the  notice  and  imitation  of  the  reader ;  the  following  brief  observa- 
tions, however,  will  not  be  thought  wholly  superfluous. 

The  elevated  rank  of  the  subject  of  the  foregoing  eulogium  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  in  the  preceding  passages,)  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  emi- 
nence 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  under- 
stand, an  education  conducted  upon  the  genuine  principles  of  Chris- 
tianity, 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 


LADY    CARBERY.  143 

world  well  qualified  to  adorn  her  exalted  station.  It  is,  however, 
greatly  to  the  honor  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  excel- 
lence :  and  this  is  a  circumstance  which  deserves  to  be  particularly 
noticed.  If  in  the  present  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 ; 
M  And  one  who  wears  a  coronet  and  prays !" 

Nay,  more  perhaps,  than  one.  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." 

And  that  only:  yet  why  should  this  be  so?  True  religion  is  so  far 
from  being  an  enemy  to  human  greatness  or  prosperity,  that  wherev- 
er 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  happi- 
ness of  the  other.  Should  this  Memoir,  therefore,  fall  into  the  hands 
of  any  who  are  thus  highly  favored  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  denominated  the  solidity  of  her  piety.  The  religion  of  Lady 
Carbery  was  founded  in  humility  before  God,  and  was  richly  pro- 
ductive of  the  substantial  graces  and  virtues  of  a  christian  ;  the  love 
of  God  and  of  her  neighbors ;  subdued  and  well-regulated  affections 
and  desires  respecting  the  things  of  this  world  5  and  a  daily  prepara- 
tion for  the  employments  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  charac- 
ter 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  ex- 
emplary and  amiable  conduct  of  Lady  Carbery  in  every  domestic 
relation   and  duty,   more   particularly  in  her  conduct  towards  her 


144  CHARACTER,    &iC. 

children.  This  is  a  part  of  her  character  which  is  well  deserving  of 
imitation.  "  Her  religion,"  adds  her  pious  eulogist,  "  dwelt  upon 
her  spirit,  and  was  incorporated  with  the  periodical  work  of  every 
day."  This  is  pure  and  undefiled  religion.  May  its  influence  be 
more  widely  diffused  throughout  the  religious  world  ;  for  this  is  good 
and  profitable  unto  men,  and  redounds  to  the  glory  of  God ! 

Conformably  to  such  a  life  was  the  death  of  Lady  Carbery,  calm 
and  peaceful;  and  honored  by  a  remarkable  token  of  the  divine  pres- 
ence and  favor.  The  account  which  the  right  reverend  author  of  her 
character  gives  of  this  circumstance,  is  no  less  judicious  than  it  is 
beautiful  and  interesting.  And  there  is  something  peculiarly  satis- 
factory in  the  evidence  by  which  it  is  attested.  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  accom- 
plished 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  regula- 
tion of  the  heart  and  life,  by  the  precepts  of  the  gospel. 


145 


LADY  RACHEL  RUSSELL. 


This  lady  was  born  about  the  year  1636,  and  was  the  daughter 
of  Thomas  Wriothesley,  Earl  of  Southampton,  by  his  first  wife,  Ra- 
chel, daughter  of  Henry  de  Massey,  Baron  of  Rovigny,  and  sister 
to  the  Marquis  of  Rovigny,  father  of  Henry,  Earl  of  Galway.  She 
was  married  first  to  Francis,  Lord  Vaughan,  eldest  son  of  Richard, 
Earl  of  Carbery,  and  afterwards,  about  the  year  1669,  to  William, 
Lord  Russell,  son  of  William,  Earl  of  Bedford,  by  whom  she  had 
one  son  and  two  daughters.  Lady  Rachel,  the  eldest,  was  married 
to  William,  Lord  Cavendish,  afterwards  Duke  of  Devonshire ;  and 
the  Lady  Catharine,  the  youngest,  to  John  Manners,  Lord  Roos, 
afterwards  Duke  of  Rutland.  Wriothesley,  the  son,  married  Eliz- 
abeth, only  daughter  and  heir  of  John  Howland,  Esquire,  was  crea- 
ted Baron  Howland  of  Streatham,  June  13,  1695,  and  succeeded  his 
grandfather  in  1700;  became  Duke  of  Bedford,  and  died  May  26, 
1711,  in  the  thirty-first  year  of  his  age.  By  this  lady  he  had  three 
sons  and  two  daughters. 

It  is  well  known,  and  is  an  event  which  can  never  be  forgotten, 
that  the  husband  of  this  lady,  William,  Lord  Russel,  was  beheaded 
July  21,  1683.  How  worthy  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  In- 
troduction to  the  Letters  of  Lady  Rachel  Russel,  his  widow,  partic- 
ularly shews,  and  to  that  we  refer  our  readers.* 

As  our  concern  is  only  with  his  relict,  we  shall  turn  our  thoughts 
entirely  to  her.  We  own  we  are  not  furnished  with  any  considera- 
ble materials  for  our  Memoirs  of  her  before  the  dismal  period  of  her 
illustrious  husband's  sufferings.  At  this  juncture  she  conducted  her- 
self with  a  mixture  of  the  most  tender  affection,  and  the  most  surpri- 
sing magnanimity.  She  appeared  in  court  at  the  trial  of  her  hus- 
band ;  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  virtuous  Southampton 
rising  up  to  assist  her  lord  in  this  his  utmost  distress,  a  thrill  of  an- 
guish ran  through  the  assembly.     After  his  condemnation  she  threw 


"  Letters  of  Lady  Rachel  Russell  from  the  manuscript  in  the  Library  at  Woo- 
burn-Abbey ;  to  which  is  prefixed  an  Introduction,  vindicating  the  character  of  Lord 
Russell  against  Sir  John  Dalrymplc,  &c.  third  edit,  printed  1774. 

19 


146 


MEMOIRS  OF 


herself  at  the  king's  feet,  and  pleaded,  but,  alas !  in  vain,  with  his 
majesty  the  merits  and  loyalty  of  her  father,*  in  order  to  save  her 
husband.  And  without  a  sigh  or  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  affec- 
tion to  an  husband,  that  the  torrent  of  her  distress  would  have  over- 
flowed 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  behavior  in  the  season 
of  their  extremity  of  distress  were  very  remarkable,  and  well  deserve 
a  particular  mention.  On  the  Tuesday  before  Lord  Russell's  exe- 
cution,! 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  concern  about  preserving 
him  filled  her  mind  so  now,  that  it  in  some  measure  supported  her, 
but,  when  that  would  be  over,  he  feared  the  quickness  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  preserva- 
tion ;  but  when  he  considered  that  it  would  be  some  mitigation  of  her 
sorrow  that  she  left  nothing  undone  that  could  have  given  any  prob- 
able 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 


*"  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  of  great  virtue  and  good  parts,  of  a  lively  imagin- 
ation and  sound  judgment,  who  had  merited  much  by  his  constant  adherence  to  the 
king's  interest  during  the  war,  and  the  large  remittances  he  made  him  in  his  exile, 
and  styles  him  a  fast  friend  to  the  public — the  wise  and  virtuous  Earl  of  Southamp- 
ton— vvho  deserved  every  thing  the  king  could  give  him." — "  The  king,"  says  Old- 
mixon,  "  saw  the  virtuous  and  lovely  Lady  Russell  weeping  at  his  feet,  imploring 
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. 

t  See  the  Introduction  to  Lady  Russell's  Letters. 


LADY  RACHEL  RUSSELL.  147 

if  she  had  not  had  thai  magnanimity  of  spirit  joined  to  her  tender- 
ness, 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  giv- 
ing him  such  a  wife,  where  there  were  birth,  fortune,  great  under- 
standing, great  religion,  and  great  kindness  to  himself;  but  her  car- 
riage," said  he,  "  in  my  extremity  was  beyond  all.  He  was  glad 
that  she  and  his  children  were  to  lose  nothing  by  his  death,  and  it 
was  a  great  comfort  to  him  that  he  left  his  children  in  such  a  moth- 
er'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  shewn  at  her  lord's  trial.  When 
in  open  court,  attending  at  her  lord's  side,  she  took  notes,  and  made 
observations  of  all  that  passed  on  his  behalf,  and  when  prostrate  at 
the  king's  feet,  and  pleading  with  his  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 
scaffold,  this  excellent  lady,  though  encompassed  round  with  the  dark- 
est clouds  of  affliction,  seemed  to  be  absorbed  in  a  religious  concern 
to  behave  herself  aright  towards  her  God  under  his  mighty  hand,  and 
to  fulfil  the  duties  now  devolved  upon  herself  alone  in  the  care,  edu- 
cation, 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  lady- 
ship during  the  residue  of  her  days,  the  following  Extracts  from  her 
Letters  are  laid  before  our  readers.  Extracts  we  call  them,  for  they 
are  by  no  means  the  whole  of  her  Letters,  which,  if  they  had  been 
all  given,  would  have  been  too  large  to  have  been  comprised  under  a 
single  article  in  our  work,  and  at  the  same  time  would  not  have  di- 
rectly fallen  in  with  our  design,  that  of  exhibiting  her  as  an  eminently 
pious  personage,  as  some,  and  indeed  several  of  her  Epistles  relate, 
at  least  in  a  great  part,  to  matters  of  public  intelligence,  business,  and 
other  inferior  concerns. 

EXTRACTS  FROM  THE  LETTERS  OF  LADY  RACHEL  RUSSELL. 

Lady  Russell  to  Doctor  Fitzwilliam.* 
1  need  not  tell  you,  good  doctor,  how  little  capable  I  am  of  such 
an  exercise  as  this.f     You  will  soon  find  how  unfit  I  am  still  for  it, 

*  A  divine  for  whom  Lady  Russell  had  a  great  esteem  and  friendship.  He  had 
been  chaplain  to  her  father, "as  lie  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.  Ke  died  in  or  about  the  year  Hiyti, 
having  appointed  all  the  Letters  which  Lady  Russell  wrote  to  him  to  be*  returned  to 
her  Ladyship,  that  they  might  be  printed;  but  many  of  them,  says  the  Editor  of  her 
Letters,  do  not  appear. — See  her  Letters,  p.  307. 

t  Lord  Russell,  her  husband,  was  beheaded  July  21,  1683. 


148  MEMOIRS    OF 

since  my  yet  disordered  thoughts  can  offer  me  no  other  than  such 
words  as  express  the  deepest  sorrows,  and  confused  as  my  yet  amaz- 
ed 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  endeavor  to  make  the  best  use  I  can  of  both  ;  but  I  am 
so  evil  and  unworthy  a  creature,  that,  though  I  have  desires,  yet  1 
have  no  dispositions  or  worthiness  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  Ho- 
ly Spirit,  we  let  the  gift  of  God,  which  he  hath  put  into  our  hearts, 
interpose  ?  That  reason  which  sets  a  measure  to  our  souls  in  pros- 
perity, 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 
secretly  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  hin- 
ders my  comfort.  When  I  see  my  children  before  me,  I  remember 
the  pleasure  he  took  in  them.  This  makes  my  heart  shrink.  Can 
1  regret  his  quitting  a  lesser  good  for  a  bigger  ?  O  !  if  I  did  steadfastly 
believe,  I  could  not  be  dejected  ;  for  I  will  not  injure  myself  to  say  I 
offer  my  mind  any  inferior  consolation  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  to  bear  my  eminent  misfor- 
tunes, 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  J 
grieve.  From  that  contemplation  must  come  my  best  support.  Good 
doctor,  you  will  think  as  you  have  reason,  that  I  set  no  bounds, 
when  1  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.  Russell. 

Wouburn  Abbey,  September  30,  1683. 


LADY  RACHEL  RUSSELL.  149 

Lady  Russell  to  Doctor  Fitzivilliam. 

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  dis- 
mal title,  and  yet  more  dismal  circumstances,  to  have  additional  cares, 
from  which  I  am  sure  I  am  not  exempt,  but  am  very  unfit  to  dis- 
charge well  or  wisely,  especially  under  the  oppressions  I  feel ,  how- 
ever, 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  re- 
freshments, though,  alas  !  such  as  are  but  momentary,  it  is  but  cast- 
ing off  some  of  my  crowded  thoughts  to  compassionate  friends,  such 
as  deny  not  to  weep  with  those  that  weep,  or  in  reading  such  discours- 
es 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  abound- 
ing to  me,*  none  have  in  all  particulars  more  suited  my  humor.     You 


*  That  eminently  great  and  good  man,  the  Reverend  John  Howe,  wrote  a  most 
excellent  letter  to  her  Ladyship  in  this  season  of  her  distress,  which  well  deserves 
in  the  whole  of  it  a  place  in  our  work,  but  it  is  too  long  for  insertion.  However, 
some  passages  we  shall  take  leave  to  select,  which  arc  as  follow  : — "The  cause  ot 
your  sorrow,  madam,  is  exceedingly  great.  The  causes  of  your  joy  are  inexpressi- 
bly greater.  You  have  infinitely  more  left  than  you  have  lost.  Doth  it  need  to  he 
disputed  whether  God  be  better  and  greater  than  man?  or  more  to  be  valued,  lov- 
ed, and  delighted  in  ?  and  whether  an  eternal  relation  be  more  considerable  than  a 
temporary  one  ?  was  it  not  your  constant  sense  in  your  best  outward  state,  '  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  our  joy  arc  immutable,  such  as  no  su- 
pervening thing  can  alter.  You  have  lost  a  most  pleasant,  delectable,  earthly  rela- 
tive. Doth  the  blessed  God  hereby  cease  to  be  the  best  and  most  excellent  good  ? 
Is  his  nature  changed  ?  his  everlasting  covenant  reversed,  and  annulled,  '  which  is 
ordered  in  all  things,  and  sure,  and  is  to  be  all  your  salvation,  and  all  your  desire 
whether  he  make  your  house  on  earth  to  grow,  or  not  to  grow  ?  2  Sam.  xxiii.  5' 
That  sorrow  which  exceeds  the  proportion  of  its  cause,  compared  with  the  remain- 
ing 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  defense  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,  hut  for  much  nobler  and  greater  ends,  which  he  hath  propo- 
sed to  himself  concerning  bun.  Nor  are  we  to  reckon  ourselves  so  little  interested 
in  the  great  and  sovereign  Lord  of  all,  whom  vvc  have  taken  to  be  our  God,  and  to 
whom  we  have  absolutely  resigned  and  devoted  ourselves,  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  prepared  for  himself,  are 
to  serve  and  glorify  Inm  in  an  higher  and  more  exalted  capacity  than  they  ever  could 
in  this  wretched  world  of  ours,  and  wherein  they  have  themselves  the  highest  sat- 
isfaction     When  the   ble^ed  God   is  pleased  in  having  attained  and  accomplished 


150  MEMOIRS    OF 

deal  with  me,  sir,  just  as  I  would  be  dealt  withal ;  and  it  is  possible  1 
feel  the  more  smart  from  my  raging  griefs,  because  1  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,  nay  desire  to  have  mine  searched,  that,  as  you  religious- 
ly design  by  it,  they  may  not  fester.  It  is  possible  that  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  pas= 
sions,  nay  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 


the  end  and  intendments  of  his  own  boundless  love,  too  great  to  be  satisfied  with 
the  conferring  only  temporary  favors  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  satisfaction  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  gYeat  theme  of  your  thoughts 
I  only  propose  most  humbly  to  your  honor,  that  you  would  not  confine  them  to  the 
sadder  and  darker  part  of  that  theme.  It  hath  also  a  bright  side,  and  it  equally  be- 
longs 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  translated,  which  will  mingle  pleasure  and 
sweetness  with  the  bitterness  of  your  afflicting  loss,  by  giving  you  a  daily  intellec- 
tual participation  through  the  exercise  of  faith  and  hope  in  his  enjoyments.  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 
prepared  spirit  made  meet  for  an  inheritance  with  them  that  are  sanctified,  and  with 
the  saints  in  light  now  entered  into  a  state  so  connatural,  and  wherein  it  finds  every 
thing  most  agreeable  to  itself.  How  highly  grateful  it  is  to  be  united  with  the  true 
center,  and  come  home  to  the  Father  of  Spirits !  to  consider  how  pleasant  a  wel- 
come, how  joyful  an  entertainment,  your  consort  hath  met  with  above  !  how  de- 
lighted 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  continu- 
ally pays  to  the  throne  of  the  celestial  King ! 

"  Will  your  ladyship  think  that  an  hard  saying  of  our  departing  Lord  to  his  mourn- 
ful disciples,  '  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  splendor  of  the  most  glorious 
princes'  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  of- 
ten conversant  in  those  vast  and  spacious  tracts  of  pure  and  brightest  light,  and 
among  the  holy  inhabitants  that  replenish  them,  if  it  frequently  employ  itself  in  con- 
templating 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  you  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  ? 

"  Nor  should  such  thoughts  excite  over-hasty,  impatient  desires  of  following  pres- 
ently to  heaven,  but  to  the  endeavors  of  serving  God  more  cheerfully  on  earth  for 
our  appointed  time,  which  I  earnestly  desire  your  ladyship  to  apply  yourself  to,  as 


LADY    RACHEL    RUSSELL.  151 

I  can  ever  hope  for,  a  silent  submission  to  this  severe  and  terrible 
providence,  without  any  ineffective  unwillingness  to  bear  what  I  must 
suffer,  and  such  a  victory  over  myself  that,  when  once  allayed,  im- 
moderate passions  may  not  be  apt  to  break  out  again  upon  fresh  oc- 
casions and  accidents  offering  to  my  memory  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 


you  would  not  displease  God,  who  is  your  only  hope,  nor  be  cruel  to  yourself,  nor 
dishonor  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  do  any  thing  unworthy  your  family  and  parentage.  Your  high- 
est alliance  is  to  that  Father  and  family  above,  whose  dignity  and  honor  are,  I 
douht  not  of  highest  account  with  you." 

"  I  multiply  words,  being  loath  to  lose  my  design.  I  shall  only  add  that  conside- 
ration, which  cannot  but  be  valuable  with  you,  upon  his  first  proposal,  who  had  all 
the  advantages  imaginable  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  disadvantage.  You  always  naturally  create 
in  them  a  reverence  of  you,  and  I  cannot  but  apprehend  how  the  constant  mien,  as- 
pect 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  sol- 
itude and  retirement,  which,  though  they  please  you,  do  really  prejudice  you,  and 
are  more  than  you  can  bear.  Nor  can  any  rules  of  decency  require  more.  Noth- 
ing that  is  necessary  and  truly  Christian  ought  to  be  reckoned  unbecoming.  Da- 
vid's example,  2  Sam.  xxii.  20,  is  of  too  great  authority  to  be  counted  a  pattern  of 
indecency.  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  ?" 

"  That  I  have  used  so  much  freedom  in  this  paper,  I  make  no  apology  for ;  but  do, 
therefore,  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  sensible  of  your  and  your  noble  relatives'  deep  affliction,  and  who 
scarce  ever  bow  the  knee  before  the  mercy-seat  without  remembering  it,  and  who 
shall  ever  be,  madam,  your  Ladyship's 

"  Most  sincere  honorer,  and 

"  Most  humble  devoted  servant." 

Though  Mr.  Howe,  says  Dr.  Calamy,thc  writer  of  his  Life,  did  not  put  his  name 
to  this  his  consolatory  epistle,  yet  the  style,  and  several  particularities  in  it,  soon  dis- 
covered who  was  the  author.  Her  ladyship  sent  him  a  letter  of  thanks,  and  told 
him  that  he  must  not  expect  to  remain  concealed.  She  promised  to  endeavor  to  fol- 
low the  advice  he  had  given  her,  and  often  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. 


152  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  unthankful  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  dejec- 
tions, which  are  surely  increased  by  the  subtile  malice  of  the  great 
enemy  of  souls  taking  all  advantage  upon  my  present  weakened  and 
wasted  spirits,  assaulting  with  diverse  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  great- 
er persuasions  had  been  used — he  had  gone  away — or  some  errors  at 
the  trial  amended — or  other  applications  made,  he  might  have  been 
acquitted,  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  sorrows,  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,  overbur- 
thened  mind,  which,  both  by  nature  and  accident,  is  made  so  weak, 
that  I  cannot  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 
withdraws  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  peace- 
ful and  eternal  home  in  prospect.  But  in  this  time  of  our  pilgrim- 
age, vicissitudes  of  all  sorts  are  every  one's  lot. — 

About  the  middle  of  October,  1690. 

Lady  Russell  to  Lady  Sunderland.^ 

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  of- 
fer me  with  obliging  earnestness  a  thousand  times  greater  than  I  de- 


*Then  Dean  of  St.  Paul's,  afterwards  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
t  Daughter  of  George  Digby,  Earl  of  Bristol. 


LADY  RACHEL  RUSSELL.  153 

serve,  or  than  there  can  be  cause  for,  but  that  you  have  taken  a  reso- 
lution to  be  all  goodness  and  favor  to  me  :  and,  indeed,  what  greater 
proof  can  you  ever  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  ?  when  I  know  you  are  contin- 
ually engaged  in  so  great  and  necessary  employments  as  you  are  ; 
and  have  but  too  imperfect  health,  which  would  unfit  any  other  in 
the  world  but  Lady  Sunderland,  for  at  least  so  great  dispatches  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. 

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  disor- 
der 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  1  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  than  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,  1  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  charming  a  delight  in  the 
love,  and  suitableness  in  humors  to  creatures,  what  must  it  be  to  our 
clarified  spirits  to  love  in  the  presence  of  God  !  Can  there  be  a 
greater  contemplation  to  provoke  to  diligence  in  our  preparation  for 
that  great  change,  when  we  shall  be  perfected,  and  so  continue  for 
ever  ? 

Her  ladyship  appears  to  have  been  a  faithful  guardian  of  her  lord's 
reputation,  and  to  have  shewn  his  memory  every  honor  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  : 

My  Letter  to  the  King  a  few  days  after  my  dear  Lord's  death. 

•  May  it  please  your  majesty, 
"  I  find  my  husband's  enemies  are   not  appeased  with  his  blood, 


"Burnet's  History  of  his  own  time,  Vol.  II.  p.  209,  edit.  1815. 
20 


154  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  man- 
ner to  attest,  that  [during  his  imprisonment]  f  I  often  heard  him  dis- 
course the  chiefest  matters  contained  in  that  paper  in  the  same  ex- 
pressions 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  no- 
thing is  more  common  than  to  take  up  such  words  as  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  ma- 
jestyo  n  Sunday  night,  to  be  spoken  in  my  presence,  is  exactly  true,J 
as  I  doubt  not  but  the  rest  of  the  paper  is,  which  was  written  at  my 
request ;  and  the  author  of  it,  in  all  his  conversations  with  my  hus- 
band that  I  was  privy  to,  shewed  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  chari- 
tably to  believe  that  he,  who  in  all  his  life  was  observed  to  act  with 
the  greatest  clearness  and  sincerity,  wrould  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  a 
manner,  of  the  best  husband  in  the  world,  I  were  capable  of  any  con- 
solation, your  majesty  only  could  afford  it  by  having  better  thoughts 
of  him,  which,  when  I  was  so  importunate  to  speak  with  your  majes- 
ty, 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  I 
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  com- 
ing 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  Filzwiliiam,  in  which  letter,  as  there  are  the  lender- 


*  Burnet's  History  of  bis  Own  Time,  Vol.  II.  p.  209,  edit  1815. 

1  The  words  included  in  the  brackets  are  crossed  out. 

i  The  paper  contained  an  account  of  all  that  passed  between  Doctor  Burnet  and  his 
lordship  during  his  attendance  upon  him.  This  account  Doctor  Burnet  calls  a  jour- 
nal, which  he  read  before  the  kino-  and  council,  at  his  majesty's  command,  on  the  day 
after  Lord  Russell's  execution. — Burnet's  History  of  his  Own  Time,  Vol.  II.  p.  209, 
edit.  1815. 

||  The  Duke  of  Monmouth  was  son  to  King  Charles  the  Second,  by  Lucy  Barlow, 
alias  Wallers,  in  his  declaration  against  James  the  Second,  among  other  things,  be 
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  Bus- 


LADY  RACHEL  RUSSELL.  155 

est  accents  of  grief  for  her  loss,  her  wounds  still  bleeding-,  so  there 
is  the  most  honorable  testimony  borne  to  her  lord's  character.  "  And 
now,  doctor,  I  take  this  wild  attempt  to  be  a  new  project  not  de- 
pending 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  that  his  own,  not  another's,  for 
I  dare  say,  as  he  could  discern,  he  never  went  into  any  thing  consid- 
erable 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  [  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  T  verily  believe  they  had  no  more  than 
me,  but  vainly  affected  it.  As  T  began  the  day  with  your  letter,  and 
the  sheets  of  discourse,  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  suf- 


sell,  ami  Colonel  Algernon  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  obstructed  :  concluding,  "  And  we  do  appeal 
unto  the  great  God  concerning  the  justice  of  our  cause,  and  implore  his  aid  and  assist- 
ance 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  know?  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  bat- 
tles." The  Duke  of  Monmouth  was  taken,  tried,  and,  on  the  15th  of  July,  1685,  be- 
headed. 


156  MEMOIRS  OF 

fering  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 
Friend  and  servant, 

Rachel  Russell. 

Southampton-house,  21  July.  1685." 

Her  ladyship  also,  in  the  same  affectionate  regard  to  her  lord's 
memory  after  the  Revolution,  made  use  of  her  interest  in  favor  of  his 
chaplain,  Mr.  Samuel  Johnson,  who  calls  Lord  Russell  "  the  greatest 
Englishmen  we  had,"  and  was  very  instrumental  in  procuring  him 
the  pension,  and  other  bounties,  which  he  received  from  that  govern- 
ment. 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  reli- 
giously 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 
honorable  testimonies  of  her  respect  to  her  husband's  memory,  and 
we  may  observe  in  them  an  almost  unabating  sorrow  for  the  loss  of 
him,  united  with  an  eminent  piety,  and  profound  submission  to  the  di- 
vine 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,  that  we  remember  not  upon  a  dili- 
gent perusal  of  her  Letters  so  much  as  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  malignant  as  to  instigate  his  brother,  King 
Charles,  to  be  inexorable  to  the  applications  that  were  made  for  Lord 
Russell's  life,*  and  even  to  propose  that  he   should  be  executed  at  his 

*  The  kins;,  ?ays  Bishop  Burnet,  could  not  bear  the  discourse  of  shewing  any  favor 
to  Lord  Russell ;  and  the  Duke  of  York  would  bear  the  discourse,  though  he  was  re- 
solved against  the  thing.  But,  according  to  Dr.  Wellwood,  the  king  was  not  only 
inclined  to  pardon  him,  but  suhvred  some  words  to  escape  on  the  very  day  he  was  ex- 
ecuted, as  sufficiently  shewed  his  irresolution  in  that  matter,  in  the  Duke  of  Mon- 
mouth's journal  it  is  said,  that  the  King  told  him  that  he  inclined  to  have  saved  the 
Lord  Russell,  hut  was  forced  to  consent  to  his  death,  otherwise  he  must  have  broken 
with  his  brother,  the  Duke  of  York.  The  Duke  of  York  descended  so  low  in  his  re- 
venge, (originating  not  improbably  from  Lord  Russell's  having  proposed  the  bill  in 
16S0,  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  Lord  Russell 
might  be  executed  before  his  own  door  :  an  insult  the  king  himself  would  not  consent 
to. — Introduction  to  Lady  Russell's  Letter?  p.  (50. — 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 
asperity  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,  andean 
do  me  signal  service." — "Ah,  sir,"  replied  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. 


LADY  RACHEL  RUSSELL.  157 

own  door,  the  good  lady  drops  no  censure  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  an  intimation  from 
her  ladyship  that  she  thought  he  was  justly  punished  for  his  bloody 
crimes. 

Even  the  inhuman  JefTeries  himself,  who  distinguished  himself  by  a 
flaming  speech  against  Lord  Russell  at  his  trial,  is  passed  over  in  si- 
lence by  her,  and  she  takes  not  the  least  notice  of  his  disgrace,  im- 
prisonment, 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  laboring  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  afflict- 
ed, some  years  after  her  lord's  death,  with  great  weakness  or  dim- 
ness of  sight.  "  My  eyes  grow  ill  so  fast,"  says  she  in  one  of  her  let- 
ters, I  resolve  to  do  nothing  of  this  sort  by  candlelight."f  And  in 
another  :  "For  the  chat  of  the  town  I  will  not  venture  to  hurt  my 
eyes  for  it."|  From  this  complaint  we  find  her  happily  relieved,  for 
on  June  28,  1694,  Archbishop  Tillotston  wrote  to  Doctor  Burnet, 
Bishop  of  Salisbury,  "That  he  could  not  forbear  telling  him  that  La- 
dy Russell's  eye  was  couched  yesterday  morning  with  very  good  suc- 
cess.'^ 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  Gal  way,  written  about  the  years  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  apprehension  that  she  might  shortly  be  deprived  of  the  invaluable 
blessing  of  the  light  of  the  day.  "While  I  can  see  at  all,"  says  she, 
writing  to  Doctor  Fitzwilliam,  5th  Nov.  1692,1T  "I  must  do  a  little 
more  than  I  can  when  God  sees  best  that  outward  darkness  shall  fall 
upon  me,  which  will  deprive  me  of  all  society  at  a  distance,  which  I 
esteem  exceedingly  profitable  and  pleasant ;  but  still  I  have  full  hope 
I  shall  rejoice  in  that  he  will  not  deny  me  his  great  grace  to  strength- 

*  See  Rapin'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." 

t  See  her  Letters,  p.  289."  t  Ibid.  p.  291. 

§  See  her  Letters,  p.  304,  in  a  marginal  note. 

||  Ibid.  p.  331.  H  Ibid.  p.  293. 


158  MEMOIRS,  &C. 


en  me  with  might  by  his  Spirit  in  the  inner  man.     Then  I  shall  walk 
in  the  right  way  until  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  re- 
pine, 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 
darkness,  which  perhaps  must  soon  overtake  me." 

*  See  her  Letters,  p.  295. 


159 


MRS.   ELIZABETH   BURY 


Mrs.  Elizabeth  Bury  was  born  about  the  second  of  March, 
1644,  at  Clare,  in  the  county  of  Suffolk,  and  was  baptized  the 
twelfth.  Her  father  was  Captain  Adams  Lawrence,  of  Lynton,  in 
Cambridgeshire,  a  person  of  good  character  and  great  integrity. 
He  died  June  13,  1648.  Her  mother  was  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Cutts, 
daughter  of  Henry  Cutts,  Esquire,  of  Clare,  a  gentleman  learned  in 
the  law,  a  great  peace-maker  among  his  neighbors,  and  a  zealous 
promoter  of  the  interest  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  re- 
markably serious,  heavenly,  and  experienced  Christian,  an  ornament 
to  her  family,  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  sprung ! 

The  freedom,  ingenuousness,  and  pleasantness  of  Mrs.  Bury 's  tem- 
per, were  ordinarily  known  to  all  who  conversed  with  her.  She 
never  was  reserved  but  when  she  thought  her  company  was  disagree- 
able, or  she  could  profit  herself  more  by  her  own  thoughts  than  the 
discourse  of  others. 

She  has  been  often  taken  notice  of  as  a  person  of  uncommon  parts, 
ready  thought,  quick  apprehension,  and  proper  expression.  She 
was  always  very  inquisitive  into  the  nature  and  reason  of  things,  and 
greatly  obliged  to  any  that  would  give  her  information. 

In  writing  letters  she  had  a  great  aptness  and  felicity  of  language, 
and  was  always  thought  so  close  and  pertinent,  and  full  to  the  pur- 
pose, and  withal  so  serious,  spiritual,  and  pungent,  that  her  correspon- 
dence 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,  hav- 
ing a  fine  understanding,  accompanied  with  a  very  faithful  and  reten- 
tive memory,  and  taking  a  continual  pleasure  in  reading  and  conver- 
sation, she  soon  became  a  proficient  in  whatever  part  of  knowledge 
she  was  desirous  to  attain. 

She  often  entertained  herself  with  philology,  philosophy,  and  an- 
cient and  modern  history.  Sometimes  she  diverted  herself  with  mu- 
sic, vocal  and  instrumental ;  sometimes  with  heraldry,  the  globes, 
and  mathematics ;  and  sometimes  with  learning  the  French  tongue, 
principally  for  the  sake  of  conversing  with  French  refugees,  to  whom 
she  was  an  uncommon  benefactress ;  but  she  especially  employed 
herself  in   perfecting  her    acquaintance   with   the  Hebrew  lan£iiagp; 


160  MEMOIRS    OF 

which  by  her  long  application  and  practice  she  had  rendered  so  fa- 
miliar and  easy  to  her,  as  frequently  to  quote  the  original  in  common 
conversation,  when  the  true  meaning  of  some  particular  texts  depen- 
ded upon  it.  Very  critical  remarks  upon  the  idioms  and  peculiarities 
of  that  language  were  found  among  her  papers  after  her  decease. 

Another  study  in  which  she  took  much  pleasure  was  that  of  anato- 
my and  medicine  ;  being  led  to  it  partly  by  her  own  ill  health,  and 
partly  by  a  desire  of  being  useful  among  her  neighbors.  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 ;  and  they 
have  often  owned  that  she  understood  an  human  body,  and  the  mate- 
ria medica,  much  better  than  most  of  her  sex,  with  whom  they  had 
ever  been  acquainted. 

But  however  she  diverted  herself  with  these  parts  of  her  litera- 
ture, yet  her  constant  favorite,  and  darling  study  was  divinity,  espe- 
cially the  Holy  Scriptures,  having  from  her  very  childhood  taken 
God's  testimonies  for  the  men  of  her  counsel.  In  the  latter  part  of 
her  life  she  devoted  most  of  her  secret  and  leisure  hours  to  the  read- 
ing 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,  and  the  last  books,  next  to  the  Holy  Scriptures,  she 
would  ever  part  with.  She  honored  the  author,  for  finding  so  much 
of  God  in  him,  and  for  speaking  the  case  of  her  own  heart  better 
than  she  could  speak  it  herself.  He  always  surprised  her  with 
something  new,  and  yet  so  natural,  and  of  such  necessary  consequence, 
and  unobserved  by  others,  that  she  still  read  him  with  fresh  gust  and 
pleasure.  Next  to  the  Bible,  her  chief  delight  lay  in  reading  prac- 
tical 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  con- 
fess 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  convictions  some  years  before,  but  she  apprehended  the  ef- 
fectual 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  op- 
portunities of  glorifying  God,  of  doing  much  good  to  others,  and  of 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    BURY.  1C1 

enjoying  large  experiences  of  the  divine  grace  and  faithfulness  to- 
wards her :  and  from  the  benefit  and  comfort  she  found  in  early  re- 
ligion herself,  she  always  recommended  it  with  much  seriousness,  af- 
fection, and  importunity,  to  others.  There  was  something  very  pe- 
culiar in  the  disposition  of  her  mind,  and  turn  of  thought,  that  adapt- 
ed 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  insinuate  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 
heavenly  course  with  great  steadiness,  resolution,  and  pleasure  ;  pro- 
ceeded from  strength  to  strength  ;  and  for  the  joy  that  was  set  before 
her,  went  before  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 
that  she  knew  not  how  short  her  day  would  be,  and  therefore  she  had 
no  time  to  lose."  She  often  observed  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. 

Having  set  out  for  heaven  thus  soon,  and  continuing  her  resolu- 
tions for  God,  and  religion,  and  the  eternal  interests  of  her  soul,  she 
often  considered  with  herself,  and  advised  with  others,  upon  the  proper- 
est  and  most  effectual  means  to  promote  and  carry  on  her  spiritual  and 
pious  designs,  and  at  last  determined  upon  this  as  one,  to  keep  a  daily 
memorial  of  what  she  did,  which  should  be,  as  she  expresses  it,  a  wit- 
ness between  God  and  her  own  soul.  It  cannot  be  ascertained  when 
she  began  her  Diary,  but  it  is  conjectured  it  was  about  the  eighteenth 
or  twentieth  year  of  her  age.  In  it  both  morning  and  evening  she 
strictly  observes,  with  very  great  beauty  and  happy  variety  of  ex- 
pression, the  most  remarkable  providences  of  God  with  respect  to 
herself  and  others,  and  sometimes  in  the  minutest  circumstances  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 


*  What  is  rendered  in  our  Translation,  Gen.  xxix.  1.  "Jacob  went  on  his  jour- 
ney ;"  in  the  original  is,  "  He  lifted  up  his  feet ;"  to  which  this  good  lady,  who  was 
acquainted  with  the  Hebrew  language,  evidently  refers. 

21 


162  MEMOIRS    OF 

practice— her  preparations  for  holy  duties — the  influences,  impres- 
sions, 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  suspected  decays — the  matter  of  her  prayers  for  herself  and 
others,  and  the  manner,  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 — her  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  im- 
possible to  enumerate  the  several  heads  and  articles  which  make  up 
her  Diary.  Enough,  however,  from  the  particulars  that  have  been 
mentioned,  may  be  said,  to  shew  its  pious  nature,  and  excellent 
design. 

In  this  method  she  found  singular  advantage.  She  would  often 
say,  "  that  was  it  not  for  her  Diary  she  should  neither  know  what  she 
was,  or  what  she  did,  or  what  she  had  ;"  and  by  recourse  to  it  in  all 
her  afflictions,  temptations,  and  surprises,  she  generally  found  great 
relief.  Let  her  mind  be  never  so  much  embarrassed,  and  the  exer- 
cise 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  upon  her  soul,  and  the  whole  train  of  graces  exhibited  in  a  beau- 
tiful exercise  through  the  whole  course  of  her  life  and  actions. 

Her  humility  shewed  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.  When- 
ever 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. 


*  The  infinity  of  sins,  as  this  Latin  proverb  may  be  rendered.  Lerna  was  a  lake 
near  Argos,  in  Peloponnesus,  where  Hercules  slew  the  Hydra,  or  great  water-snake, 
whose  heads  grew  again  as  last  as  they  were  cut  off.     Hence  Lerna  malorum. 


MRS.  ELIZABETH  BURY.  \&3 

Her  patience  was  admirable  under  all  ibe  chastisements  of  her 
heavenly  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  in- 
terests she  had  often  espoused  to  the  prejudice  of  her  own,  she  mani- 
fested a  very  exemplary  carriage,  by  keeping  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  pro- 
tested, "that  she  would  never  take  it  for  her  portion,  since  God  had 
tendered  heaven,  and  himself,  to  her."  The  cares,  and  incumbran- 
ces, and  vexations,  and  especially  the  sinfulness  of  the  world,  had 
weaned  her  affections  from  it,  and  raised  many  restless  and  almost 
incessant  cries  for  her  deliverance  out  of  it.  She  was  never  eleva- 
ted with  its  smiles,  unless  in  thankfulness  to  God ;  and  never  de- 
pressed by  its  frowns,  unless  she  apprehended  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  inherit- 
ance. How  often  would  she  wish,  "  O  for  those  realms  of  light,  and 
love,  and  purity  !" 

Her  zeal  for  God  was  shewn  by  promoting  his  worship,  and  en- 
couraging every  probable  method  for  public  service.  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 
household  of  faith,  whether  natives  of  her  own  country,  or  foreign- 
ers. 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  distributed  as  she  should  see  occasion.  So 
many  long  and  expensive  journeys  had  she  taken  for  promoting  these 
charitable  designs  among  her  acquaintance,  that  she  sometimes  pleas- 
antly remarked  upon  herself,  "  that  she  had  acted  the  part  of  a  beg- 
gar so  long,  that  she  was  now  almost  really  one  herself."  She  very 
much  approved  of  every  person's  devoting  a  certain  part  of  then- 
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  nett  profits  or  incomo 


164  MEMOIRS  OF 

if  they  could  allow  it,  as  she  herself  did,  to  such  valuable  and  neces- 
sary purposes. 

She  considered  walking  with  God  in  general  as  implying  a  living, 
as  in  his  sight,  in  conformity  to  him,  and  in  communion  with  him. 
She  esteemed  it  requisite  in  walking  with  God  that  a  person  should 
be  humble  under  a  sense  of  his  own  vileness  and  the  great  conde- 
scension of  his  God  to  him,  and  that  he  should  be  close,  and  steady, 
and  persevering,  and  lively,  in  opposition  to  sluggishness  and  melan- 
choly ;  and  her  own  practice  very  much  corresponded  with  her  right 
apprehension  of  the  duty,  for  it  is  observable  from  her  Diary  that  she 
lived  in  a  daily  awe  of  the  omniscience  of  God,  in  holy  meditation  of 
him,  in  humble  expectations  from  him,  and  in  constant  devotedness 
of  herself  entirely  to  him. 

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 
following  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,  before  the  worship  of  the  family,  often  urging  on  herself 
the  words  of  the  Psalmist,  "  My  voice  shalt  thou  hear  in  the  morn- 
ing. O  Lord,  in  the  morning  will  I  direct  my  prayer  to  thee,  and 
will  look  up.*" 

When  reading,  singing,  and  prayer  in  the  family  were  over,  she 
constantly  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  An- 
notations. She  diligently  compared  parallel  texts,  and  took  a  great 
pleasure  in  reducing  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 ;  would  often  bit- 
terly bewail  the  wanderings  of  her  heart  in  that  duty,  and  plead  cov- 
enant grace  and  faithfulness,  and  to  finish  her  morning's  work  with 
some  hymn  of  praise,  and  write  down  an  account  of  all  in  her  Diary. 

Through  the  rest  of  the  day  she  walked  with  God,  and  carefully 
observed  her  goings,  avoided  the  occasions  of  sin,  watched  over  her 
heart,  set  a  guard  upon  her  lips,  accustomed  herself  to  holy  confer- 
ence with  others,  and  was  frequently  lifting  up  her  heart  in  ejacula- 
tory  prayers  or  praises  upon  any  occurrence.  When  at  any  time 
she  had  been  surprised  by  sin,  she  presently  reflected,  confessed,  re- 
pented, had  fresh  recourse  to  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  solemnly  en- 
gaged herself  to  God  for  greater  circumspection  in  the  time  to  come. 


Psali 


MRS.    ELIZABETH  BURY.  165 

In  the  evening,  as  early  as  she  could,  she  called  herself  to  an  ac- 
count for  all  that  had  passed  in  the  day,  and  again  inserted  the  rec- 
ords 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  ex- 
pected 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  con- 
versation 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  suf- 
fer others  to  trifle  away  their  time,  but  know  how  to  employ  them. 
She  quickly  observed  the  gifts  and  graces  of  others,  and  endeavored 
to  draw  them  out  to  her  own  advantage.  She  always  valued  the 
conversation  of  ministers,  physicians,  and  persons  of  reading  and  in- 
genuity, especially  such  as  had  the  greatest  savor  of  religion. 

She  often  visited  the  sick,  and  relieved  the  poor,  and  blessed  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  tatlers  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  intermeddle  with  her  neighbors."  She  durst  not  defame  others, 
or  take  up  an  evil  report  against  them,  or  countenance  those  who  did. 
She  was  never  more  palled  in  conversation  than  in  hearing  what  oth- 
ers did,  and  what  they  had,  and  what  they  said,  what  dresses  were 
worn,  what  entertainments  were  given,  what  company  were  present, 
and  what  discourse  passed  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  impertinencies,  and  they  ra- 
ther 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  un- 
der a  necessity  of  removing  to  distant  places.  She  was  also  no  stran- 
ger to  very  sharp  bodily  disorders  ;  but,  under  extremity  of  pains  in 


166  MEMOIRS   OF 

her  head  or  breast,  her  usual  complaints,  she  ever  submitted  with  ex- 
emplary patience  and  silence  to  the  sovereign  will  of  God,  justifying 
him  in  his  severest  discipline,  and  often  saying,  "  she  would  not  for 
all  the  world  but  she  had  been  afflicted." 

She  set  an  high  value  upon  her  time,  and  especially  on  those  sea- 
sons and  opportunities  in  which  the  interest  of  her  soul  was  so  nearly 
concerned,  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  laborer  should  ever  be  found  at  his  work  before  she  was  at 
hers.  Even  from  her  youth  she  agreed  it  with  her  servant,  under 
great  penalties  upon  herself,  that  she  would  rise  every  morning  at 
four  o'clock  for  her  closet ;  "  which  was  her  practice,"  says  her  bi- 
ographer 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  endeavored  to  improve  the  day,  in  company  and 
conversation  with  her  friends.  She  was  always  well  furnished  with 
matter  for  useful  conversation,  and  could  make  very  happy  transitions 
from  worldly  to  serious  discourse.  But  yet  she  would  often  complain 
of  the  loss  of  much  precious  time  in  giving  and  receiving  visits,  and 
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  clos- 
et, 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." 

It  was  her  frequent  prayer,  that  affection  might  never  bias  her  judg- 
ment, but  that  reason  and  religion  might  govern  her  in  every  state 
and  change  of  life. 

Her  first  marriage  was  to  Griffith  Lloyd,  Esquire,  of  Hemingford- 
Grey,  in  Huntingdonshire,  on  the  first  of  February,  1667,  in  the 
twenty-third  year  of  her  age.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  good  reputa- 
tion and  estate,  of  great  usefulness  in  his  county,  while  he  was  in 
commission  of  the  peace,  and  afterwards  as  a  reconciler  of  differen- 
ces, and  common  patron  of  the  oppressed.  He  was  a  person  of  a 
very  active  and  generous  spirit,  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  neighbors ;  and,  if  they  were  envied  by  some,  they  were  gloried 
in  by  others,  and  especially  by  their  own  relations. 

Her  second  marriage  was  to  the  Rev.  Samuel  Bury,  on  May  29, 
1697,  who  appears  to  have  been  a  very  worthy  and  excellent  minis- 
ter ;  and  who  happily  survived  her,  to  communicate  the  Memorials 
of  her  for  the  instruction  and  benefit  of  the  world. 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    BURY.  1G7 

As  to  her  relative  duties  she  made  great  conscience  of  them,  and 
was  very  exemplary  in  their  observance. 

As  a  mistress  and  governess  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  aud  contention  in  her  family,  lest  she  should 
be  discomposed  in  her  own  spirit,  and  the  common  interest  of  reli- 
gion 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  submitted  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  re- 
prove 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-examination. 
She  always  charged  it  as  a  duty  upon  herself  to  discourse  over  with 
her  servants  every  sermon  they  heard  together,  especially  on  Sab- 
baths, 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  opportu- 
nity of  closer  application  to  their  particular  state,  as  she  saw  occa- 
sion. 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  servants  themselves  are  witnesses 
what  tender  care  she  took  of  them  in  sickness,  as  well  as  in  health ; 
and  her  Diary  will  abundantly  prove  how  incessantly  she  prayed  for 
them,  and  suited  her  prayers  to  the  particular  exigencies  of  their  sev- 
eral states.  Often  does  she  there  mourn  over  the  unteachableness 
of  some,  melting  into  tears  on  their  account,  and  lodging  her  appeals 
with  God  as  to  the  sincerity  of  her  endeavors  to  have  done  them 
good.  And  in  her  Diary  also  we  shall  find  her  rejoicing  over  others, 
that  God  had  answered  her  prayers,  blessed  her  instructions,  and 
brought  them  under  the  bonds  of  the  covenant,  planted  them  in  fam- 
ilies, and  made  them  blessings  there.  "  I  cannot  remember,"  says 
her  husband,  writing  concerning  her,  "  any  servants  that  were  ever 
brought  under  her  care  who  had  not  learned  something  of  the  meth- 
od of  a  sermon  before  they  left  her ;  and  very  many  had  their  mem- 
ories improved  so  far,  as  to  bring  home  all  the  particular  heads, 
though  numerous,  of  the  two  sermons  on  the  Lord's-day.  He  adds, 
that  when  ever  she  inclined  to  part  with  a  servant,  she  always  con- 
sulted God  in  it,  and  that  she  would  take  the  person  into  her  closet, 
and  very  pathetically  advise  and  teach  a  proper  conduct  of  life,  in 


168  MEMOIRS  OF 

order  that  the  servant  might  be  acceptable  in  other  families.  "  And 
such  was  the  success,"  says  her  historian,  "  of  these  her  religious 
methods,  that  I  know  not  of  any  one  servant  she  ever  had  but  what 
was  first  or  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,  up- 
on every  occasion,  to  speak  of  their  mistress's  care  of  them,  and  pray- 
ers 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  con- 
stant sharer  with  them  in  all  their  joys  and  sorrows.  A  more  sympa- 
thetic 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  some- 
thing proper  into  their  minds,  observing,  persuading,  warning,  and 
directing,  as  she  thought  necessary.  "  She  has  an  honorable  testimo- 
ny," 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  in- 
tegrity, piety,  ingenuousness,  and  faithfulness.  Her  animadversion 
upon  her  friends,  in  the  manner  she  used  to  do  it,  was  so  very  far 
from  offending  them,  that  it  was  oftentimes  very  pleasing  to  them, 
and  begat  in  them  some  awful  regard  to  her  person,  and  a  true  de- 
corum in  their  own  lives.5* 

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  watch- 
fulness and  reformation.  However  matters  appeared  to  her  upon 
such  private  inquiries  and  conversation  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  observation,  conversation,  and  experi- 
ence, 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,  compel- 
led her  to  it.     When  God  gave  her  success,  she  always  acknowledged 


MRS.  ELIZABETH  BURY.  169 

it  with  great  thankfulness  to  him,  that  he  should  own  so  weak  an  in- 
strument for  the  peservation  of  human  lives.  The  instances  of  such 
successes,  in  most  places  where  she  had  lived,  were  not  easily  num- 
bered. 

She  always  called  the  Sabbath  a  delight,  holy  of  the  Lord,  and 
honorable.  She  was  very  uneasy  if  worldly  business  was  not  dis- 
patched in  time,  that  the  Sabbath  might  be  remembered  before  it 
came.  She  endeavored  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  be- 
speak 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  assistance,  and  success  to  his  la- 
bors. As  she  was  up  early  on  the  Sabbath,  so  she  was  not  only  al- 
ways out  early,  but  her  whole  family  with  her ;  not  so  much  regard- 
ing the  dressing  of  her  own  dinner  as  the  advantage  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  fam- 
ily 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  taste  for  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 
severe  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  shewed  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,  who  was  that  time 
married  to  her,  "  I  never  knew  her  absent  from  one,  if  bodily  illness 
did  not  prevent  her." 

She  was  truly  a  praying  person,  and  one  who  gave  herself  to  pray- 
er ;  and  in  the  Scripture  sense,  she  prayed  always.  She  would  of- 
ten 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  communion  with  God,  as  she  experienced  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  men. 

Her  gift  in  prayer  was  very  extraordinary,  as  many  have  observ- 
ed, when  the  care  of  the  family  devolved  upon  her ;  and  as  her  ex- 
cellent husband  and  biographer  observed,  when  upon  some  peculiar 
occasions  they  have  prayed  together  in  secret.     "  He  has  been  struck 

22 


170  MEMOIRS    OF 

as  he  declares,  with  wonder,  at  the  freedom  and  aptness  of  her  lan- 
guage ;  at  the  warmth  and  vigor  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  satis- 
faction 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. 
Sometimes  God  answered  her  upon  her  knees,  while  she  was  pray- 
ing, 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  gloom- 
iest apprehensions,  and  most  afflicting  confusions ;  or  in  relief  to  the 
poor,  when  in  the  deepest  distresses ;  or  in  extinguishing  the  vio- 
lence of  flames,  when  the  towns  where  she  lived  had  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  assistance  in  that  calamity  than  by 
prayer."  At  other  times  she  observes  in  her  Diary  how  long  she 
waited  for  God's  answers.  "  At  such  a  time,"  she  notes,  "  I  prayed, 
and  at  such  a  time  God  graciously  heard  my  prayer;  and  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  some- 
times she  would  very  thankfully  own  the  wisdom  and  goodness  of  God, 
when  in  the  result  of  things  she  found  she  had  prayed  for  what  had 
not  been  honorable  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 
herself  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  mercy  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  tempta- 
tions, 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,   God,  seest  me  ;"*  hereby  plainly  intimating  her  aw- 


'*n  Sk  nnx  * 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    BURY.  171 

ful  adoration  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  that  persuasion,  that  God  was  present,  whether  in  rea- 
ding, 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  hei\  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  purpose,  and  vow, 
and  solemn  obligation  made,  and  renewed,  and  ratified  in  her  closet, 
was  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. 

For  some  of  the  last  years  of  this  exemplary  Christian's  life,  she 
found  herself  in  a  declining  state,  and  was  always  wailing  for  her  dis- 
mission. The  clearness  of  her  thought,  the  vigor  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  appointed  her,  she  was  the  more  desirous  of  entering 
into  her  eternal  rest.  And  now,  after  a  course  of  such  eminent  pi- 
ety, vigilant  and  daily  preparation  for  death,  and  fervent  desires  for 
her  dismission  from  the  body,  let  us  attend  her  to  her  closing  scene. 

On  the  third  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  deafness,  as  to  render  her 
unconversable  :  upon  this  she  desired  to  withdraw,  and  went  home. 
Her  deafness  continuing,  a  pleuritic  fever  soon  followed,  and,  after 
that,  a  lethargy,  which  in  part  deprived  her  friends  of  that  heavenly 
discourse  they  promised  themselves  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  ?  O  grave  ?  where 
is  thy  victory  ?  thanks  be  to  God,  who  gives  me  the  victory,  through 
our  Lord  Jesus  Christ!" 

In  this,  her  last  illness,  she  had  the  same  steadfast  faith  and  strong 
consolations  she  had  before  experienced,  but  a  more  difficult  passage 
out  of  life  than  what  was  expected.  It  was  concluded,  by  her  lam- 
entable 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 


172  MEMOIRS    OF 

excessive  sweats  continued  for  many  hours  together,  and  were  not 
more  profuse  in  themselves,  than  affecting  to  others. 

Though  the  nature  of  her  distemper  prevented  her  from  speaking- 
much,  yet  what  she  did  speak  was  always  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  salva- 
tion ! — This  day  I  hope  to  be  with  Christ  in  paradise.— The  prom- 
ises of  God  are  all  yea  and  amen  in  Christ  Jesus  ;  and  here  my  faith 
lays  hold,  and  here  it  keeps  its  hold." 

On  die  1 1th  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  freedom.  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 
honorably  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  re- 
quest, 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  ;  and  to  the  great  comfort  of  her  sur- 
viving friends  she  left  this  world  at  last  "  without  either  sigh,  or  groan, 
and  with  "  the  pleasantest  smile  that  was  ever  observed  in  her  coun- 
tenance 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  diffusely  communicated.  To  have  published  all  that 
he  has  given  to  the  world  from  her  private  papers,  would  have  taken 
up  more  room  in  our  volume  than  we  could  conveniently  spare ; 
and  on  the  other  hand,  to  have  entirely  passed  over  such  divine  me- 
morials would  have  been  withholding  what  may  be  both  highly  enter- 
taining and  edifying  to  our  pious  readers.  We  have  thought  proper 
to  select  the  following  passages. 

1690,  Sept.  27.  When  I  was  nine  or  ten  years  old  1  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  conver- 
sion 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 
svith  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  : 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    BURY.  173 

My  judgment  has  esteemed  God,  even  his  holiness,  the  most  desi- 
rable 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,  hav- 
ing always  accounted  sin  the  greatest  evil,  and  now  for  many  years 
my  bitterest  affliction,  though  in  some  hurries  I  have  not  felt  the 
most  sensible  mournings  for  it. 

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  assist- 
ing me,  1  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  deliberately,  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  up  my  heart  above  all  earthly  enjoyments,  and 
sometimes  making  it  joyful  under  pain  and  trouble,  which  has  hinted 
the  power  of  his  prevailing  love,  and  made  me  hope  it  will  cast  out 
fears,  if  he  calls  me  to  martyrdom. 

My  hope  is  in  God  through  Christ ;  and  all  1  have  I  would  part 
with  rather  than  his  love,  and  the  interest  I  hope  I  have  in  it. 

My  desires  are  after  him  above  gold,  health,  friends,  honor,  &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  1  loathe  them. 
I  find  daily  defects  in  my  duties,  yet  I  have  a  respect  to  all  God's 
commandments.  O  wretched  creature  !  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  opened,  which  alone  can  cleanse  me. 

I  forsake  and  renounce  the  devil's  dominion  ;  and  as  I  have  re- 
ceived 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 
follow  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, 
u  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 
acceptance  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  anv 
rate.     Truly  I  am,  and    would,  and    will   be    thy   servant  by  choice 


174  MEMOIRS  OF 

and  consent,  whatever  thou  givest  me,  or  whatever  thou  deniest  me. 

0  how  bountifully  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. 

1  have  accepted  thee  to  teach  and  rule,  as  well  as  save  my  guilty 
soul.  I  cry  as  loud  for  purifying  as  for  pacifying  grace.  I  am  will- 
ing to  be  kept  from  mine  iniquity.  I  except  no  darling  sin  from 
thine  iron  rod.     I  ask  no  mercy  for  it,  nor  would  shew  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  ! 

1692,  February  19.  Ashamed,  and  sad  in  the  consideration  of 
the-  wonderful  structure  of  my  house  of  clay,  inhabited  by  an  immor- 
tal spirit,  capable  of  reflection,  &tc.  yet  both  so  long  utterly  useless  to 
my  Creator'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,  1  resigned  body  and  soul  entirely 
to  him  w7ho  made  them,  begging  a  willing,  happy  dissolution. 

1692,  March  20.  Faint,  yet  pursuing;  dull,  yet  adoring;  im- 
pure, 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 ! 

1712,  June  17,  to  July  9.  In  the  evening  (June  17,)  about  seven 
or  eight  o'clock,  I  was  seized  with  a  violent  rigor  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  de- 
part, 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  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  physicians,  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  I  render,  what  shall  1  do  ?  I  am 
thankful  for  life.  It  is  the  gift  of  God.  It  is  given  in  answer  to 
prayer.  But,  Lord,  if  1  improve  it  not  for  thy  glory,  how  sad  shall  I 
be  ?  Thou  knowest  I  had  no  desire  to  live  but  for  better  service  ;  and 
shall  I  be  called  from  a  seeming  abundant  entrance  into  glory,  again 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    BURY.  175 

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  parting  asunder  without  any  re- 
luctant 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  the  sake  of  Jesus  whom  thou  hearest 
always. 

Such  is  the  style  of  this  lady's  Diary.  Large  is  the  collection 
which  her  husband  has  drawn  from  her  Memoirs,  and  whence  the 
above  extracts  have  been  made  ;  but  yet  Mr.  Bury  says,  so  copious 
is  her  Diary,  "  that  it  had  been  as  easy  to  have  collected  many  hun- 
dreds more  of  such  like  passages  from  her  original  manuscripts, 
would  it  not  have  swelled  the  volume  he  published  concerning  her 
beyond  common  use.  "  We  shall  only  observe,  that  the  same  vein 
of  piety  and  holiness,  which  flowed  in  such  a  full  and  strong  current 
for  such  a  number  of  years,  abated  not  in  the  last  months  and  days 
she  spent  on  earth,  but  appears  to  have  run  on  without  interruption 
till  she  entered  into  her  Master's  joy  ;  for  thus  she  writes  in  the  four 
last  months  of  her  sojournment  in  our  world  : 

1720,  January  1  and  2.  I  ended  the  last,  and  began  the  present 
year  in  the  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  diseased  soul.  I  rose  at  six  in  much  pain,  entreated  God  to 
reconcile  me  to  his  discipline,  and  shew  me  wherefore  he  thus  con- 
tends 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  glo- 
ry !  O  make  haste,  my  beloved,  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  to  God,  with  firm  resolution  in 
his  strength  to  acquiesce  in  his  all-wise  discipline  as  best  for  me, 
however  grievous  to  my  flesh.  I  returned  in  great  torture,  but  with 
submission  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 
hunger  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 
sickness.)    While  I  looked  inward  I  was  overwhelmned  with  sorrow 


176  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  wouldst  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  ac- 
quaints us,  "that  she  wrote  often  to  her  intimate  friends,  and  espe- 
cially to  such  as  wTere  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  considerable,  are  supposed  to  be  in 
the  hands  of  such  whom  they  immediately  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,  and  so  con- 
clude our  Memoirs  of  this  eminently  pious  Christian. 

LETTER    I. 

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  experi- 
ence 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  en- 
tering into  immortal  glory,  has  set  her  above  our  pity  ;  and  as  to  our- 
selves, 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  concerned  whether  we  meet  them  next  on 
earth,  or  in  the  heavenly  mansions,  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  never  be  otherwise,  in  heaven? 

LETTER    II. 

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,  pa- 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    BURY.  177 

tience,  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  the  last  ghastly  enemy  :  and,  though  1  cannot  yet  pray 
against  sudden  death,  yet  her  steadfast  hope  and  glorious  conquest 
have  given  me  more  tolerable  thoughts  of  languishing  sickness,  since 
in  her  I  saw  that  neither  the  strength  of  pain,  nor  weakness  of  the 
patient,  can  hinder  a  triumphant  exit,  when  God  will  make  his  joy 
our  strength. 

LETTER    III. 

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  con- 
versation, and  whatever  you  find  faulty  in  him,  shew  him  the  evil  of 
it,  rather  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  fre- 
quent, but  not  tedious,  in  your  instructions.  Often  open  the  nature, 
and  inculcate  the  necessity,  of  prayer  for  all  we  want,  and  the  en- 
couraging promises  of  God  that  he  will  hear  us.  Lisp  to  your  broth- 
er, in  his  own  language,  what  he  prays  for  by  his  form,  and  labor  to 
excite  in  him  a  sense  of  his  sad  state  by  sin,  greater  desires  after 
grace,  and  fuller  resolutions  and  endeavors  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  sermons  you  hear  together  in  lan- 
guage adapted  to  his  capacity,  and  fail  not  to  beg  of  God  a  blessing 
upon  all  your  labors,  or  else  you  will  do  little  to  the  purpose.  If  God 
makes  you  instrumental  in  the  conversion  of  your  brothers  and  sisters, 
it  will  be  a  great  honor  and  comfort,  and  produce  the  strongest  un- 
ion among  you.  Take  special  care  of  them  who  are  in  the  greatest 
danger.  Imitate  your  godly,  impartial  mother,  who,  though  she  lov- 
ed all  her  children  alike,  yet  would  often  say,  "  U  she  knew  to  which 
child  she  had  conveyed  most  of  her  sinful  nature,  she  would  pity  and 
endeavor  the  help  of  that  child  most." — 

LETTER    IV. 

Cautions  to  a  friend  about  marrying. 

— It  is  very  odd,  when  you  ask  my  opinion  in  the  matter  propo- 
sed, that  you  only  give  me  an  account  of  the  gentleman's  circum- 
stances, and  not  of  his  character.  So  far  as  I  know,  1  must  freely 
own  that  I  fear  the  estate  is  loo  great,  and  likely  to  prove  a  snare  to 
you.  Bishop  Hall  affirms,  "that  riches  have  made  many  worse,  but 
never  any  better."    I  hope  you  would  rather  choose  to  be  better  than 

23 


178  MEMOIRS    OF 

richer,  and  that  you  will  never  be  biassed  by  an  estate  to  an  indiffer- 
ent choice.  You  know  I  have  ever  cautioned  you,  and  I  must  cau- 
tion 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  chil- 
dren, 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  found  more  than  all  this  world  can  afford 
you,  what  perplexity  are  you  then  tied  to  for  life  !  I  know  what  troub- 
les you  have  met  with ;  but  might  you  not,  by  avoiding  present, 
plunge  yourself  into  future  difficulties  ?  It  is  better  to  be  in  distresses  by 
necessity  than  by  choice.  What  evil  God  inflicts  is  easier  borne  than 
that  which  we  bring  upon  ourselves.  Let  me  entreat  you  to  moder- 
ate 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    V. 

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  honor 
of  her  friendship,  I  believe  as  much  as  could  consist  with  the  ine- 
quality of  your  stations  in  this  world  ;  and  that  the  goodness  of  the  de- 
ceased levelled  more  than  is  usual  even  in  pious  ladies.  A  friend, 
wise,  godly,  compassionate,  secret,  &c,  is  a  rarity  while  it  is  enjoy- 
ed, 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  con- 
tracted minds,  but  condescends  to  the  titles  and  offices  of  a  friend  to 
all  his  faithful  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  dis- 
paragement which  all  creature-enjoyments  have,  of  being  but  a  short 
and  uncertain  pleasure. — 

LETTER    VI. 

Unon  the  death  of  a  Sister, 

I  thought  I  could  with  less  discomposure  have  parted  with  a  sister 
than  I  find  1  can.     I  hoped  that  death  would  not  have  begun  at  the 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    BURY.  179 

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  pas- 
sion: 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  immediate  glory ;  and  with  regard  to  their  bodies,  but  a  refi- 
ning in  order  to  a  reunion.  The  forsaken  mansion  is  indeed  a  mel- 
ancholy 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  glo- 
ry 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  farther  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  perfect  ?  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  loathsome,  but  it  will  not  always  be 
so.  If  the  innate  desires  of  reunion  could  not  persuade  me  of  a  res- 
urrection, yet  the  infallible  word  of  God  has  assured  me  of  it,  and 
that  it  shall  arise,  not  as  it  was  sown,  a  natural  and  sluggish  body, 
but  agile  and  sprightly,  and  fit  to  serve  its  superior  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  de- 
cays, 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   VII. 

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  afflictions  in  themselves  cannot  be  proofs  of  son- 


180  MEMOIRS  OF 

ship ;  but  we  are  fully  assured  by  the  sacred  Sriptures,  that  the  sor- 
est trials  are  very  consistent  with  that  privilege.  The  experience  of 
many  of  God's  favorites  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  measuring,  timing,  and  ap- 
pointing 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  be  well  assured 
that  God  will  not  exact  the  debt  from  the  offender  and  the  surety  too. 
Fly  daily  to  that  refuge,  that  sure  hope,  that  justifying  righteousness, 
and  then  you  will  find  no  fury  in  God,  how  grievous  soever  your  af- 
flictions 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  without  a  due  respect  to  future  cure.  Sin  is  the  worst  disease  ; 
its  cure  is  to  be  sought,  though  by  the  roughest  methods.  The  chil- 
dren 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  oUapis  infernalis,  and  let  it  lie  his  lime,  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  as- 
sures us  that  every  thing  he  does  shall  do  us  good,  and  both  purge 
away  our  sins,  and  make  us  partakers  of  his  holiness  !  I  must  confess 
these  lines  upbraid  my  own  foolish  choice  oftentimes  for  myself  and 
friends,  but  I  pray  and  wait  for  better  submission  to  the  heaviest 
strokes,  either  on  myself  or  them. — 

LETTER    VIII. 

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,  [  have  seen  brighter  days ;  but  clouds  have  returned  aft- 
er rain  upon  others  ;  and  may  not  all  this,  put  together,  commend 
the  variegated  dispensations  of  Providence  ?  Had  all  our  days  been 
halcyon,  would  they  have  been  so  safe  or  useful  ?  Had  all  been  sa- 
ble, how  disconsolate  !  Were  all  the  children  in  equal  smart  under 
the  rod  together,  we  should  be  too  ready  to  make  some  unworthy  re- 
flections on  the  all-wise  discipline.  Were  not  all  alternately  so,  we 
should  be  ready  to  suspect  their  sonship.  O  the  depth  of  wisdom, 
that  poor  shallow  mortals  can  never  fathom  !     Yet  how  proud  and 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    BURY.  181 

)eevish  are  we  when  any  thing  is  denied,  at  our  own  time,  which  we 
ancy  to  be  good  for  us !  Had  I  been  always  well  and  at  ease,  how 
shill  a  sympathy  should  I  have  had  with  the  dear  afflicted  members 
)f  Christ  1  Had  you  never  been  so,  I  had  wanted  your  experimental 
consolations.  Now  if  the  brief  hints  of  this  beautiful  variety  in  the 
lispensations  of  Providence  can  afford  us  such  pleasure  here,  how 
)right  and  glorious,  how  sweet  and  ravishing  will  they  appear  when 
infolded  in  eternal  glory  !  And  why  should  I  be  impatient  of,  or  fear 
he  darkest  scene  that  shall  end  in  the  brightest  glory  ?  Yet  with 
>hame  and  sorrow  I  confess  the  fear  of  what  I  may  feel  has  been  as 
ifflictive  to  me  as  most  I  have  felt,  yea,  when  I  have  found  a  good 
iope  of  an  interest  in  God,  and  after  a  thousand  experiences  of  his 
lever-failing  compassions  confuting  my  guilty  fears.  This  childish, 
>r  rather  unchildlike  distemper,  I  think  increases  with  years,  and  is 
Dartly  occasioned  by  frequent  and  close  converse  with  many  of  my 
superiors  in  grace  under  bitter  afflictions  living  and  dying ;  and  when 
[  see  what  is  done  to  the  green  trees,  I  am  apt  to  run  into  an  excess 
}f  fear  what  shall  be  done  to  the  dry.  Fain  would  I  cherish  an  aw- 
ful, while  I  subdue  a  slavish  fear ;  but  this  I  cannot  do  of  myself, 
md  therefore  beg  it  of  the  God  of  all  grace,  in  which  I  crave  your 
assistance. 

Such  are  the  threads  (the  above  extracts  of  her  Diary  and  Let- 
ters) of  the  mantle  Mrs.  Bury  left  behind  her,  when  her  spirit  as- 
cended to  the  celestial  glory  :  how  rich  and  heavenly  its  texture,  our 
readers  will  judge. 

We  add  a  few  lines  of  a  Poem,  which  Dr.  Watts  wrote  on  the  oc- 
casion. 

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  wond'rous  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  Savior,  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  labor  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. 


182  MEMOIRS,  &C. 

But  ne'er  shall  words,  or  lines,  or  colors  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  from  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'd  in  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 ! 


183 


QUEEN  MARY    II. 


MARY,  QUEEN  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN,  WIFE  OF  KING  WILLIAM  THE  THIRD. 


She  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  wan- 
ted 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 
strangers,  and  removed  from  her  own  country  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 
deportment  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  Prov- 
inces. They  were  like  transport  and  rapture.  The  veneration  was 
so  profound,  that,  how  just  soever  it  might  be,  it  seemed  rather  ex- 
cessive. 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,  diminished  the  respect  that  was  offered  her, 
even  from  a  people,  whose  constitution  gave  them  naturally  a  jeal- 
ousy of  too  great  a  merit  in  those  who  are  at  the  head  of  their  gov- 
ernment. 

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  fa- 
ther and  her  mother.  She  was  a  protestant  upon  principle ;  and 
when  her  father,  then  upon  the  throne  of  Great  Britain,  wrote  her  a 
letter  in  favor  of  popery,  she  returned  him  an  answer,  drawn  up  by 


184  MEMOIRS    OF 

herself,  to  the  following  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  in- 
formed, or  the  means  for  it ;  that  she  had  furnished  herself  with 
books,  and  had  those  about  her  who  might  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  appeared  to  herself; 
that  it  ought  to  be  no  prejudice  against  the  Reformation,  if  many  of 
them  who  professed  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  infalli- 
bility was  lodged,  whether  in  the  pope  alone,  or  in  a  general  council, 
or  in  both ;  and  she  desired  to  know  in  whom  the  infallibility  rested, 
when  there  were  two  or  three  popes  at  a  time  acting  one  against 
another  with  the  assistance  of  councils,  which  they  called  general ; 
for  at  least  the  succession  was  then  much  disordered.  She  observ- 
ed, 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  importing 
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  he  was 
to  be  blamed  ;  and  she  further  took  notice,  that  if  St.  Peter  himself 
could  not  maintain  that  authority,  she  could  not  see  how  it  could  be 
given  to  his  successors,  whose  bad  lives  had  ill  agreed  with  his  doc- 
trine. She  also  alleged,  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 


Matt.  xvi.  IS.  {  Acts,   xv.   28. 


QUEEN    MARY    II.  185 

them  which  they  drew  out  to  support  their  opinions,  and  yet,  that 
for  all  this  our  Savior  bade  the  Jews  search  the  Scriptures ;  and  that 
St.  Paul  ordered  his  epistles  to  be  read  to  all  the  saints  in  the  chur- 
ches, 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  observed,  '  that  under  the  law  of  Mo- 
ses 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  Sa- 
vior convinced  Thomas,  by  making  him  thrust  his  own  hand  into  the 
print  of  the  nails,  not  leaving  him  to  the  testimony  of  the  other 
apostles,  who  were  already  convinced.  She  added,  that  she  was 
confident  that,  if  the  king  would  hear  many  of  his  own  subjects, 
they  would  fully  satisfy  him  as  to  all  those  prejudices  that  he  had 
against  the  Reformation,  in  which  nothing  was  acted  tumultuously, 
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  church,  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  ac- 
count of  the  grounds  upon  which  she  was  persuaded  of  the  truth  of 
her  religion,  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  Savior'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'  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."* 


Burnet's  History  of  his  Own  Time,  Vol.  II.  p.  411—414.  edit,  of  1815. 

24 


186  MEMOIRS    OF 

After  the  princess  had  lived  several  years  in  Holland,  the  orna- 
ment of  her  sex  and  station,  upon  the  wonderful  success  of  her  hus- 
band the  Prince  of  Orange,  in  his  great  enterprise  to  rescue  our 
country  from  popery  and  slavery,  both  which  were  endeavored  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,  1668,  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  rea- 
sons on  which  she  went,  with  a  caution  and  exactness  that  well  be- 
came 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  assured  was  the  only  true  one,  and  those  real  extremities  to 
which  matters  were  driven,  ought  to  supersede  all  other  considera- 
tions. 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 
hands  it  was  committed  upon  the  ruins  of  property  and  liberty ;  nor 
could  she  think  that  religion  was  to  be  delivered  up  to  the  humors  of 
misguided  princes,  whose  persuasion  made  them  as  cruel  in  imposing 
on  their  subjects  the  dictates  of  others,  as  they  themselves  were  im- 
plicit in  submitting  to  them ;  but  yet,  after  all,  her  inclinations  lay  so 
strong  to  the  duty,  that  of  honoring  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  ac- 
ceptance of  the  royal  dignity  was  the  only  visible  means  left  to  pre- 
serve the  Protestant  Religion,  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 
single  attempt  made  upon  her,  was  to  be  ascribed  to  a  special  Provi- 
dence watching  over  her.  To  this  she  added  her  early  deliverance 
from  the  danger  of  all  temptations,  and  the  advantages  she  enjoyed  af- 
terwards 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,  con- 


QUEEN  MARY   II.  187 

vinced  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  conside- 
rations, to  which  she  had  carefully  attended,  determined  her  to  take 
the  throne,  nature  still  felt  itself  loaded.  She  bore  her  elevation  with 
the  outward  appearances  of  satisfaction,  because  she  thought  it  became 
her  not  to  discourage  others,  or  give  them  an  occasion  to  believe  that 
her  uneasiness  was  of  another  nature  than  it  really  was,  but  in  the 
whole  matter  she  put  a  constraint  upon  herself,  that  is,  upon  her  tem- 
per, (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  behavior  abundantly  evinced  what  an 
extraordinary  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  neglected.  She  took  care  to  be  so  early  on  these  occa- 
sions, 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  retirement,  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  beyond  sea.  She  was  constant  to  her  month- 
ly attendances  at  the  Sacrament  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  appeared  in  her,  without  one  glance  al- 
lowed for  observation.  She  spread  a  spirit  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  themselves,  though  few 
attained  to  such  a  steady  application  as  they  beheld  in  her.  In  her 
demeanor  in  the  house  of  God  there  was  nothing  theatrical,  nothing 
given  to  show.  Every  thing  was  sincere  as  well  as  solemn,  and  gen- 
uine 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 
indifferent  one.  When  she  was  asked,  how  she  could  be  so  atten- 
tive to  some  sermons  that  fell  remarkably  below  perfection,  she  would 
answer,  "  that  she  thought  it  did  not  become  her  by  any  part  of  her 
behavior  to  discourage,  or  so  much  as  seem  to  dislike  one,  who  was 
doing  his  best."  The  hardest  censure  that  she  passed  upon  the  poor- 
est preachers  was  to  say  nothing  to  their  advantage,  for  she  never 
withheld  her  commendations  from   any  who  deserved  them.     She 


188  MEMOIRS    OF 

was  not  content  to  be  devout  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  immediate  care,  whom  she  studied  to  form  to 
religion  with  all  the  love  and  watchfulness  of  a  mother.  She  charm- 
ed 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  attend- 
ance, that  such  as  waited  might  not  be  condemned  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  labors,  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,  di- 
vines were  to  be  recommended  to  favor  and  preferment.  She  made 
it  visible  that  the  steps  were  to  be  made  by  merit,  and  not  by  friend- 
ship and  importunity.  She  charged  those  whom  she  trusted  most  in 
such  matters  to  look  out  for  the  best  men,  and  the  best  preachers, 
that  they  might  be  made  known  to  her.  She  was  under  a  real  anxi- 
ety 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  be- 
came her,  and  which  they  well  deserved.  She  could  deny  the  most 
earnest  solicitations  with  a  true  firmness,  when  she  thought  the  per- 
son 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  scarce  possible,  even  by  the  help  of  a  plurality,  to  find  a  sub- 
sistence 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  disgraces  upon  them,  as  should  oblige  all  per- 
sons 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  labor.     In 


QUEEN    MARY    II.  189 

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  rectify- 
ing matters,  but  that  she  was  resolved  to  go  on,  and  never  suffer  her- 
self 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 
offered  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  ex- 
ercise of  it,  was  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  pri- 
vate life  with  moderate  circumstances,  was  the  happier  as  well  as 
safer  state.  When  reflections  were  once  made  before  her  of  the 
sharpness  of  some  historians,  who  had  left  very  dishonorable  imputa- 
tions 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  treatment;  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  severity  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  colors,  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  unbecomingly  soever  he  may  have  written,  yet  by  such 
books  they  might  see  what  would  be  probably  said  of  themselves, 
when  all  terrors  and  restraints  should  fall  off  with  their  lives."  She 
encouraged  those  whom  she  admitted  to  frequent  access,  to  lay  be- 
fore 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  prerogatives.  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  con- 
sciences 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  circumstan- 
ces made  it  impossible  for  her  to  put  them  in  execution. 


*  An  historian  who  flourished  Anno  Doin.  530. 


190  MEMOIRS    OF 

She  was  the  delight  of  all  who  knew  her,  by  the  obliging  tender- 
ness 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  Support- 
able, by  the  relief  she  gave  them.  She  was  tender  of  those  who 
deserved  her  favor,  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  tender- 
ness as  well  as  the  munificence  of  the  welcome  she  gave  them.  The 
confusions  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  sup- 
ported during  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  tolerable.  The  miserable  among  ourselves,  particularly 
those  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  lan- 
guish. And  she  never  was  uneasy  at  applications  of  that  kind,  nor 
was  her  hand  ever  scanty,  when  the  person  was  worthy,  or  the  ex- 
tremity great.  She  was  regular  and  exact  in  this  her  bounty.  She 
found  that  even  a  royal  treasure,  though  dispensed  by  an  hand  that 
was  yet  more  royal,  could  not  answer  all  demands;  for  which  reason 
she  took  care  to  have  a  just  account  both  of  the  worthiness  and  the 
necessities  of  those  who  were  candidates  for  her  liberality,  and  in 
the  conducting  of  her  charity  shewed  as  great  an  exactness,  and  as 
attentive  a  regard,  as  much  memory,  and  as  much  diligence,  as  if  she 
had  no  cares  of  a  higher  nature  lying  upon  her.  But  what  crowned 
all,  was  her  exact  conformity  to  the  rule  of  the  gospel  in  her  munifi- 
cence, 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  men- 


QUEEN    MARY    II.  191 

tioned  as  objects,  who  had  been  already  named  by  others,  and  re- 
lieved by  herself,  she  would  not  let  those  who  spake  to  her  under- 
stand any  thing  that  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 
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  hang- 
ing 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  blas- 
phemies, 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  Revolu- 
tion, seemed  thence  to  think  they  had  some  sort  of  right  to  be  indul- 
ged in  their  licentiousness  and  irregularities.  She  often  said,  "Can 
a  blessing  be  expected  from  such  hands,  or  on  any  thing  that  must 
pass  through  them  ?"  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  people  might  be  lodged  with  reason- 
able 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  considerations  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  protestants  in  general,  very 
sensibly  affected  her;  and  she  often  said,  with  feeling  and  cutting 
regret,  "  Can  such  dry  bones  live  ?"  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  meas- 
ure correct  them  ;  and  she  gave  some  in  very  eminent  stations  to  un- 
derstand, that  nothing  could  both  gratify,  and  even  oblige  her  more, 
than  that  care  should  be  taken  to  stop  those  growing  disorders,  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  proba- 
ble 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  re- 


192  •  MEMOIRS  OF 

ligion  by  which  they  were  named.  She  gave  a  willing  ear  to  a  prop- 
osition that  was  made  for  erecting  schools,  and  the  founding  of  a  col- 
lege 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  objections,  and  espoused  it  with  such 
an  affectionate  concern,  that  she  digested  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 
honor  of  them  ;  nor,  indeed,  could  any  thing  inflame  her  more  than 
the  prospect  of  advancing  religion,  especially  where  there  were  hopes 
of  working  upon  infidels. 

Her  concern  and  charity  were  not  limited  to  that  which  might 
seem  to  be  her  peculiar  province,  and  was  more  especially  put  un- 
der her  care.  The  foreign  churches  had  also  a  liberal  share  of  her 
regard  and  munificence.  She  was  not  insensible  of  the  kindness  of 
the  Dutch.  She  remembered  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  un- 
der her  shadow,  and  to  be  made  easy  through  her  favor.  Those 
scattered  remains  of  our  protestant  brethren,  that  had  been  hunted 
out  of  their  vallies  in  Piedmont,  were  again  brought  together  by  their 
majesties'  means.  It  was  the  king's  powerful  intercession  that  re- 
stored 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  advantages,  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  reli- 
gion 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  great- 
est 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  appear- 
ances of  hurry  or  impatience.  Her  devotions,  both  private  and  pub- 
lic, 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. 


QUEEN    MARY    II.  193 

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  he  made  to  think  that 
the  reasons  which  were  offered  to  her  hy  others  were  better  than  her 
own.  But  this  diffidence  only  took  place  in  those  matters  in  which 
the  want  of  practice  might  make  a  modest  distrust  seem  more  reason- 
able, and  when  she  saw  nothing  in  what  was  before  in  which  con- 
science had  any  share,  for  whensoever  that  appeared,  she  was  firm 
and  immoveable. 

Her  administration  of  public  affairs  had  a  peculiar  felicity  attend- 
ing it.  There  was  something  in  her  that  disarmed  many  of  her  ene- 
mies. 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  as  were  restless  and  implacable.  The  na- 
tion 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  sometime 
masters  of  the  British  seas.  But  a  secret  guard  seemed  to  environ 
our  country.  All  the  harm  our  enemies  did  us,  except  in  one  in- 
stance of  barbarity,*  which  might  shew  what  our  general  treatment 
might  probably  have  been,  if  we  had  become  their  prey,  was 
but  small,  and  seemed  rather  permitted  by  Heaven  to  unite  the  na- 
tion against  them.  The  people  lost  no  courage  by  it.  Their  zeal 
was  the  more  inflamed.  This  was  the  queen's  first  essay  of  govern- 
ment ;  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,  shewed  a  firmness  of  mind,  and  com- 
posure of  behavior,  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  re- 


*  The  French  fleet  ('ays  Bishop  Burnet,  History  of  his  Own  Time,  Vol.  iii.  p.  69, 
edit.  1SI5,  after  he  had  related  the  unsuccessful  engagement  oar  fleet  had  with  it 
near  Beachy,  in  the   year  1690)  lay  for  some  davs  in  Torbay  ;  hut  before 

tbey  sailed  they  made  a  descent  on  a  miserable  village  called  Tinmouth,  that  hap- 
pened to  be!  rogto  a  papist.  They  burnt  it,  and  a  few  fisherbdats  that  belonged  to 
it,  but  the    :  la    a  body  of  militia  vfcas  marching  thither,  the 

French  ma. Is  great  haste  bank  to  their  ships.  The  French  published  this  in  their 
gazettes  with  much  pomp,  as  if  it  had  boon  a  great  trading  town,  that  had  many 
ships,  with  some  men  of  war  in  port.  This  both  rendered  them  ridiculous,  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. 

25 


194  MEMOIRS  OF 

signation  of  herself  to  the  will  of  God,  without  any  anxiety  concern- 
ing 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  person  from  the  surest  instruments  of 
death,  which  seemed  to  be  sent  with  that  direction  that  it  might  shew 
the  immediate  watchfulness  of  Providence  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  tranquility.  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.*  Though  she  was  no  part 
of  the  cause  of  the  war,  yet  she  would  have  willingly  sacrificed  her  own 
life  to  have  preserved  either  of  those  lives  (her  husband'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  apprehension  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  bles- 
sed 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, 
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  than  abated  among  them.  A 
sudden  turn  came  from  a  bold,  but  necessary  resolution,  which  was 
executed  as  gallantly  as  it  was  generously  undertaken,  and  in  the 
face  of  a  great  army  ;  a  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,  was  of  the  same  tinc- 
ture with  that  of  all  her  thoughts,  namely,  "  that  our  forces  else- 
where, 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  apprehended  to  be  too  weakly  furnished 
for  a  concluding  campaign  ;    yet  so  different,"   said  she,   "are  the 


*  The  Earl  of  Nottingham  told  me,  that  when  he  carried  the  news  to  the  queen, 
and  acquainted  her  in  a  few  words  that  the  king  was  well,  that  he  had  gained  an 
entire  victory,  and  that  the  late  king  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.— BurneV  s  History  of  his  Own  Time,  Vol.  ill.  p.  70,  edit.  1815, 


QUEEN    MARY    II.  195 

methods  of  Providence  from  human  expectations,  that  nothing  me- 
morable happened  any  where  except  in  Ireland,  where  little  or  noth- 
ing 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  formida- 
ble, and  there  was  a  particular  violence  to  be  done  to  herself  by  rea- 
son of  him,  her  father  who  was  to  have  conducted  it.  A  long  unin- 
terrupted continuance  of  boisterous  weather,  that  came  from  the 
point  that  was  most  contrary  to  the  designs  of  our  enemies,  made 
the  project  impracticable.  A  succession  of  changes  of  weather  fol- 
lowed after,  as  happily  to  ourselves,  and  as  fatal  to  our  foes.  The 
same  wind  that  stopped  their  fleet  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  over  the  French  fleet,  by 
Admiral  Russell,  at  La  Hogue,  in  the  year  1692,  when  those,  who 
were  brought  together  to  invade  our  kingdom,  were  forced  to  be  the 
melancholy  spectators  of  the  destruction  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  ap- 
peared, when  affairs  were  perplexed  and  clouded.  So  firm  a  situa- 
tion of  mind  as  she  had,  seemed  to  be  in  a  good  measure  above  the 
power  of  any  events  whatever. 

So  far  was  she  from  entertaining  a  high  opinion  of  herself,  that 
she  had  a  tender  sense  of  every  thing  that  looked  like  miscarriage  un- 
der her  conduct,  and  was  afraid  lest  some  mistake  of  hers  might 
have  occasioned  it.  When  difficulties  grew  too  great  to  be  surmount- 
ed, 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  Heav- 
en, 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  par- 
ticularly in  them."  Sometimes  she  feared  there  might  be  some  se- 
cret sins  at  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  di- 
vination concerning  that  which  might  be  hidden." 

When  the  sky  grewer  clearer,  and  in  her  more  prosperous  days, 
as  we  have  before  observed,  she  was  never  lifted  up.  A  great  reso- 
lution was  taken,  which  not  only  asserted  a  dominion  over  those  seas 
which  Great  Britian  claimed  as  her  own,  but  assumed  a  more  ex- 
tensive empire,  by  our  becoming  masters  both  of  the  ocean  and  Med- 
iterranean, having  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 


196  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  had  made  it  necessary  to  restrain  another  prince  from 
such  barbarities,  by  making  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  forever  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  maintain- 
ed 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  nature  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  desire  of  a  dissolution,  that  she  said, 
"  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  mortali- 
ty, that  even  her  husband,  who  was  more  to  her  than  all  the  world 
besides,  and  rb  all  whose  thoughts  she  had  been  upon  every  other  oc- 
casion entirely  resigned,  could  not  now  inspire  her  with  any  desires 
of  returning  back  to  life.  Her  mind  seemed  to  be  disentangling  it- 
self from  her  body,  and  so  she  arose  above  that  tenderness,  that  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  un- 
der 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  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 


QUEEN  MARY  II.  197 

left  to  be  dispatched  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 
stability  and  seriousness  that,  how  little  ordinary  soever  they  might  be, 
were,  indeed,  the  correspondent  harmonious  conclusions  of  such  a 
life  as  she  had  led.  In  her  heavy  disease  she  felt  no  inward  depres- 
sion, nor  sinking  of  nature.  She  then  declared,  "  that  she  experien- 
ced the  joy  of  a  good  conscience,  and  the  powers  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  appre- 
hending he  might  be  weary,  she  commanded  him  to  sit  down,  and  re- 
peated 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  ex- 
ercise, as  often  as  she  was  awake  :  and  so  sensible  was  the  refresh- 
ment that  her  mind  found  in  it,  that  she  said  she  thought  it  did  her 
more  good,  and  gave  her  more  ease,  than  any  thing  that  was  done  to 
her.  Nature  sunk  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  symp- 
toms shewed  that  nature  was  much  oppressed,  yet  she  scarce  felt  any 
uneasiness.  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  a  heavenly  crown,  a  crown  of  glory  that 
shall  never  fade  away. 

The  above  account  of  this  most  amiable  woman,  is  in  substance 
extracted  from  Bishop's  Burnet's  Essay  on  her  Memory,  who  had 
more  than  common  advantages  of  knowing  her,  first  in  Holland,  and 
afterwards  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 


198  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  preached  a  sermon  on  her  death, — some 
further  memorials  and  descriptions  of  this  very  extraordinary  person. 

In  most  people,  even  those  of  the  truest  merit,  a  studied  manage- 
ment, will  sometimes  appear  with  a  little  too  much  varnish,  like  a  noc- 
turnal piece  that  has  a  light  cast  through  even  the  most  shaded  parts  ; 
some  disposition  to  set  one's  self  off,  and  some  satisfaction  in  being 
commended,  will  at  some  time  or  another  shew  itself  more  or  less. 
No  person  who  had  the  honor  to  approach  the  queen,  and  not 
even  such  as  were  admitted  to  the  greatest  nearness,  and  the  most 
constant  attendance,  ever  discovered  any  thing  of  this  nature  in  her. 
When  due  acknowledgments  were  made,  or  decent  things  were 
said  upon  occasions  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  enter- 
tain 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  humility,  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  charac- 
ters, 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  behavior,  a  most  amiable 
sweetness,  and  the  sprightliness  as  well  as  the  freedom  of  a  true  good 
humor.  A  fresh  and  graceful  air  more  turned  to  seriousness,  but  al- 
ways serene,  that  dwelt  upon  her  looks,  discovered  both  the  perfect 
calm  within,  and  shewed  the  force  as  well  as  the  loveliness  of  those 
principles,  which  were  the  springs  of  so  cheerful  a  temper,  and  live- 
ly a  deportment. 

The  freedom  of  cheerfulness  is  not  always  under  an  exact  com- 
mand. 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  behavior  was 
subject  to  universal  observation  ;  but  yet  it  was  under  that  regulari- 
ty of  conduct,  that  they  who  knew  her  best,  and  saw  her  otfenest, 
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  shewn  in  it,  nor  distaste  given  by  it.  It  appeared  to  be  no  other 
£han  that  due  reserve  which  became  her  elevation,  and  suited  those 


QUEEN    MARY    II.  199 

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, 
or  such  general  words  as,  taken  strictly,  signify  little,  but  in  common 
use  are  understood  to  import  a  great  deal  more.  As  she  would  not 
deceive  others,  so  she  avoided  the  saying  of  that  which  might  give 
them  an  occasion  to  deceive  themselves  ;  and  when  she  did  not  in- 
tend 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  favor.  In  a  course  of  several  years, 
and  of  many  turns,  when  great  temptation  was  given  for  more  artifi- 
cial 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  jus- 
tify 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   which  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  be- 
low her,  though  they  generally  pass  for  heroic  qualities,  that  per- 
haps the  world  never  yet  beheld  so  great  a  capacity  for  government 
joined  with  so  little  affection  to  it ;  so  unwillingly  assumed,  so  mod- 
estly 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  superiority  of  genius,  even  in  the  most  trifling  mat- 
ters, which  were  considered  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  greatest  variety  of  accidents.  She  was  quick, 
but  not  hasty  :  and,  even  without  the  advantages  which  her  rank 
gave  her,  she  had  an  exaltation  of  mind,  which  subdued  as  well  as 
charmed  all  who  came  near  her. 


200  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  knowl- 
edge, having  read  the  best  books  in  the  three  languages  (English, 
Dutch,  and  French,)  that  were  almost  equally  familiar  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  particularly  she  had  so  well  considered  our 
disputes  with  the  Church  of  Rome,  that  she  was  capable  of  mana- 
ging 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  latter  ages,  particularly  those  of 
her  own  kingdoms,  as  being  the  most  proper  to  afford  her  useful  in- 
struction. She  was  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  pros- 
titution of  the  Muses  among  us  gave  her  a  more  than  ordinary  con- 
cern. She  made  some  steps  to  the  understanding  philosophy  and 
mathematics,  but  she  stopped  soon  ;  only  she  went  far  in  natural  his- 
tory 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  progress  if  the  fre- 
quent returns  of  ill  humors  in  her  eyes,  had  not  compelled  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  of  their  minds, 
as  they  do  of  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  fruitfulness  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  be- 
yond these  to  any  diversions  that  were  costly,  and  since  these  em- 
ployed many  hands  she  was  pleased  to  say,  "  That  she  hoped  it 
would  be  forgiven  her.53 

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  wrote  with  her  own  hands,  and 
that,  sometimes,  with  as  constant  a  diligence  as  if  she  had  been  to  earn 
her  bread  by  her  labor.  It  was  a  new  thing,  and  seemed  a  strange 
sight,  to  see  a  queen  work  so  many  hours  a  day.     But  she  consider- 


QUEEN    MARY    II.  201 

ed  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  par- 
ticular, which  seemed  to  be  nothing,  and  was  made,  by  some  a  sub- 
ject of  raillery,  a  greater  step  was  taken  than,  perhaps,  every  one 
was  aware  of,  towards  bettering  the  age.  While  the  queen  thus  diver- 
ted herself  with  work,  she  took  care  to  give  an  entertainment  to  her 
own  mind,  as  well  as  to  those  who  were  admitted  to  the  honor  of 
working  with  her.  One  was  appointed  to  read  to  the  rest ;  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 
curious  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  generally  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  diffu- 
secj  that  innocent  cheerfulness  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  cruel  and  barbarous 
thing  to  be  merry  at  other  people's  cost,  or  to  make  the  mis- 
fortunes 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  speak- 
ing. When  she  thought  some  were  guilty  of  it,  she  would  ask 
them  if  they  had  read  that  sermon.  This  was  understood  to  be  a 
reprimand,  though  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  from  deserving  them. 
When  reflections  were  made  on  this  her  felicity,  she  said,  "  That 
she  ascribed  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  imputa- 
tions, and  therefore  he  did  not  try  her  beyond  her  strength."  In 
one  respect,  she  intended  never  to  provoke  censure.  She  was  con- 
scientiously tender   of  wounding  others,  and  said,  "  she  hoped  God 

26 


202  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  exhausted  :  it  nev- 
er sunk  by  repetition,  nor  degenerated  into  a  forced  mirth. 

Dr.  Bates's  character  of  the  queen  may  be  considered  as  an 
abridgment,  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 
giving  pleasure  to  our  readers. 

"  The  descent  of  our  queen  was  royal :  but  this  is  only  an  exter- 
nal circumstance,  and  derives  no  moral  virtue  to  a  person.  The 
splendor  of  extraction,  like  varnish  in  a  picture,  that  gives  more 
life  and  luster  to  the  colors,  makes  the  virtues  or  the  vices  of  a  per- 
son more  conspicuous. 

"  Her  body  was  the  beautiful  temple  of  a  fairer  soul.*  Her 
graceful  presence  inspired  reverence  and  love  in  those  who  saw  her, 
and  appeared  worthy  of  empire.  But  we  have  much  greater  things 
to  speak  concerning  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 
worship  of  God,  she  was  a  bright  example  of  solemn  and  unaffected 
devotion.  She  prayed  with  humble  reverence,  heard  the  word  with 
respectful  silence,  and  with  serious  application  of  spirit,  as  duly  con- 
sidering the  infinite  interval  between  the  supremacy  of  heaven  and 
princes  on  earth ;  that  their  greatness  in  its  lustre  is  but  a  faint  and 
vanishing  reflection  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  receiving  the  Sacrament  the  next  day. 
The  lady  staying  till  five  o'clock,  the  princess  came  out,  and  con- 
tented 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  Savior.  When  Moses  was  surpris- 
ed 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  sig- 


*  Mr.  Boyer  gives  this  more  particular  description  of  her.  Her  person  was  tall, 
and  well  proportioned.  Her  shape,  while  Princess  of  Orange,  easy  and  genteel ; 
her  complexion  light  brown  ;  her  visage  oval;  her  eyes  quick  and  lively;  and  the 
rest  of  her  features  regular.  Her  stately  port  and  native  air  of  greatness  command- 
ed respect  from  the  most  confident:  but  her  sweet  and  graceful  countenance  tem- 
pered the  awfulness  of  majesty,  and  her  affable  temper  encouraged  the  most  timo- 
rous to  approach  her. 


QUEEN    MARY    II.  203 

nified  the  purifying  ourselves  from  all  defilements.  And  certainly 
the  presence  of  the  Son  of  God  is  more  peculiar  in  that  sacred  mys- 
terious 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  on- 
ly discerner  and  rewarder.  Some  who  are  high  in  the  world  think 
it  sufficient  to  pay  a  com pli mental  visit  to  God  once  a  week,  and  con- 
tent themselves  with  the  external  service,  though  destitute  of  holy  af- 
fections, 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  de- 
scends into  the  soul  by  the  excitations  and  influences  of  his  Spirit. 

"  Her  religion  was  not  only  exercised  in  divine  worship,  but  was 
influential  into  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  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  dis- 
senters in  things  of  small  moment.  She  was  not  lettered  with  super- 
stitious scruples ;  but  her  clear  and  free  spirit  was  for  the  union  of 
Christians  in  things  essential  to  Christianity.  The  holiness  of  her 
life  was  universal.  She  was  born  and  lived  in  a  court  that  shines  in 
pomp,  and  flows  in  pleasures,  and  presents  charming  temptations  to 
all  the  distempered  appetites.  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  sens- 
es, 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  unsing- 
ed  in  the  firy  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  allurements,  offer  themselves, 
the  corrupt  nature  is  presently  discovered,  especially  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  elevation,  to 
be  temperate  in  the  midst  of  the  freest  fruitions,  is  the  effect  of  pow- 
erful grace.  But  who  ever  saw  in  the  queen  an  appearance  of  pride 
and  disdain  ?  How  grateful  was  the  condescendence  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  conjecture  of  the  felicity  of  the  state  of  unstained  innocence,  ol 


204  MEMOIRS  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  gov- 
ernment. Of  this  her  presiding  in  council  in  times  of  danger,  and 
preserving  the  tranquility  of  the  kingdom,  were  real  proofs. 

"  Her  charity,  that  celestial  grace,  was  like  the  sun  :  nothing  with- 
in 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  per- 
fection resembles  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  honor  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  re- 
ceipt 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  ac- 
cordingly. If  it  were  known  what  this  good  queen  did,  and  what  she 
designed  to  do,  among  all  her  resplendent  virtues,  Charity  would  be 
illustrious. 

"  Her  wise  redemption  of  time  from  unconcerning  vanities  for 
domestic  affairs,  was  the  effect  and  indication  of  her  tender  and  vigi- 
lant 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. 

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  excellent  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 
honor  the  wise  poet  attributes  to  the  Emperor  Augustus, 

Victorque  volentes 


Per  populos  datjura- 

that  she  ruled  a  willing  people,  may  more  truly  be  said  of  this  excel- 
lent princess.  She  was  queen  of  the  affections  of  the  people,  and 
governed  them  without  constraint.     Her  praiseworthy  actions  will 


QUEEN  MARY  II.  205 

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  sufficient  reason,  the  highest  praises  upon  her  in  this  relation. 
"  She  was"  says  Bishop  Burnet,  "  so  tender  and  so  respectful  a  wife, 
that  she  seemed  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  complacency  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  husband   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  express  affection,  or  shew  re- 
spect to  him.     She  obeyed  with  more  pleasure  than  the  most  ambi- 
tious could  have  when  they  command."     That  the  bishop's  account 
of  her  in  this  view,  and  other  such  representations  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  memory,  we  may  well 
conclude   from  what  both  the  king  said  and  did  during  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 
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  being 
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."     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  sickness  he  was  in  an  agony  that  amazed   us  all,  fainting  often, 
and  breaking  out  into  most  violent  lamentations.     When  she   died, 
his  spirits  sunk  so  low,  that  there  was  great  reason  to  apprehend  thai, 
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." 


206 


MRS.  ELIZABETH  BURNET. 


The  subject  of  our  Memoirs  was  born  November  8th,  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  South- 
ampton, Esquire,  of  an  eminent  family,  and  of  Elizabeth,  daughter 
of  Doctor  Bathurst,  a  physician  in  London,  a  person  of  distinguished 
piety,  and  among  the  most  considerable  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  with  in  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  a  little  more  than  seventeen  years  of  age  she 
was  married  to  Robert  Berkely,  of  Spetchly,  in  the  county  of  Wor- 
cester, Esquire,  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  principally  procured  by  the  means  of  Doc- 
tor 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  per- 
formed for  him. 

When  the  young  lady  came  into  the  family,  she  found  her  hus- 
band'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  compass,  in  order  to  understand  the  controversies  between  the 
protestants  and  papists,  that  she  might  be  able  to  preserve  her  hus- 
band 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,  considering  the  particular  turn  of  her  husband's  mind, 
and  the  great  deference  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  con- 
duct, that  she  might  adorn  her  own  profession  by  a  suitable  practice, 
constantly  governing  herself  by  the  rules  of  true  religion,  and  the  se- 
verest virtue.     Accordingly,  living  in  the  country,  where  she  enjoy- 


MEMOIRS,     &£C.  207 


ed  much  leisure,  she  spent  great  part  of  her  time  in  devotion  and 
reading.  When  she  was  inclined  to  divert  herself  with  work,  she 
generally  had  some  persons  to  read  to  her ;  and  when  her  poor 
neighbors  came  to  visit  her,  which,  upon  her  encouragement,  they 
often  did,  she  would  frequently  read  good  books  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  esteemed  and  loved  by 
all  who  knew  her,  even  by  those  who,  on  account  of  different  opin- 
ions in  religion,  were  likely  to  be  most  prejudiced  against  her. 

In  King  James's  time,  when  the  fears  of  popery  began  greatly  to 
increase,  and  Bishop  Fell  died,  who  had  great  influence  over  Mr. 
Berkely,  to  prevent  his  being  wrought  upon  by  his  relations,  at  the 
time  they  conceived  mighty  hopes  of  the  popish  religion  being  set- 
tled in  these  kingdoms,  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  partic- 
ular manner,  as  one  whose  piety  and  virtue,  had  she  been  of  the  cath- 
olic 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  Spetchjy,  their  country  seat. 

Here  Mrs.  Berkely  went  on  in  the  happy  course  of  life  she  had  at 
first  engaged  in,  making  continual  increases  in  knowledge  and  good 
works.  She  had  generally  some  young  persons  in  her  family,  whom 
she  well  improved  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  friend- 
ship with  the  eminent  Doctor  Stillingfleet,  Bishop  of  Worcester,  who 
to  his  death  maintained  an  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  continu- 
ed to  live  with  Mr.  Berkely  till  the  year  1693,  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  chari- 
ty, 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  shewed  a  great  concern  and  kindness  for  them  at  her 
death.  She  was  also  very  good,  and  obliging  to  all  the  rest  of  his 
family. 


208  MEMOIRS    OF 

She  then  had  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  neighboring  clergy  were  always  welcome.  She  paid  true 
respect  to  such  of  them  as  were  in  low  circumstances,  cordially  es- 
teeming them  for  their  functions  and  labors.  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  providence  of  God,  they  might  be  put  into  more  easy 
circumstances. 

She  spent  some  time  at  Worcester,  with  Bishop  Stillingfleet  and  his 
lady,  with  whom  she  had  a  most  particular  friendship ;  and  at  the 
house  of  Robert  Wylde,  Esquire,  who  took  a  particular  care  of  her, 
and  of  her  concerns  ;  for  whom,  and  his  whole  family  she  retained, 
as  they  well  deserved  them  from  her,  a  very  high  esteem  and  friend- 
ship. 

Mr.  Berkely  ordering  in  his  will  a  great  sum  of  money  to  be  rais- 
ed out  of  his  estate,  to  erect  a  hospital  at  Worcester  for  poor  people, 
she  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  accomplished.  Besides  the  care  of  this  business,  she  took  upon 
her  several  charges  in  relation  to  his  affairs,  more  than  the  law  requi- 
red, 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  di- 
vine blessing,  spread  almost  all  over  England,  the  setting  up  schools 
for  the  instruction  and  education  of  poor  children  ;  which  she  after- 
wards increased  to  a  far  greater  number. 

She  spent  a  good  part  of  her  time  at  London  with  her  only  sister, 
the  wife  of  Mr.  Justice  Dormer,  who  was  always  very  dear  to  her, 
and  she  had  a  high  value  for  the  great  integrity  and  worth  of  that 
judge. 

Mrs.  Berkely  had  early  an  inclination  to  employ  her  pen  in  sever- 
al 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  Sacra- 
ment," 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  measure  of  her  practice. 

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- 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    BURNET.  209 

gence  on  the  one  hand,  nor  an  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 
authority  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 
children.  The  bishop,  rightly  judging  that  he  brought  blessing  and 
happiness  enough  into  his  family  by  bringing  such  a  mother  into  it,  desi- 
red 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  board- 
ing-house, that  so  she  might  the  more  abound  in  good  works,  which 
the  bishop  accepted,  though  he  was  willing,  as  he  often  told  her, 
"  that  nothing  at  all  should  be  allowed  on  that  account,"  for  she  had 
in  herself  a  treasure  of  more  value  than  any  riches.  And,  indeed, 
the  bishop  was  desirous  that  all  the  world  should  see  what  an  esteem 
he  had  for  so  much  true  worth,  and  that  of  the  sublimest  kind,  as  he 
found  in  his  lady. 

After  this  she  extended  her  charity  further  than  she  had  done  be- 
fore :  and,  indeed,  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  seldom  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  contin- 
ually rising  higher  in  the  esteem  of  the  world  in  proportion  as  she 
became  more  known.  She  entered  into  friendships  with  some  per- 
sons 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  that  in  which  she  most  of  all  delighted 
herself. 

Notwithstanding  the  interruptions  which  a  more  diffusive  acquaint- 
ance gave  her,  she  spent  as  much  time  as  she  could  secure  to  her- 
self, in  writing  upon  divine  and  moral  subjects,  and  was  prevailed 
with  to  consent  to  the  printing  of  the  first  edition  of  the  above-men- 
tioned book,  which,  as  well  as  the  second,  was  entirely  her  own 
composition,  without  any  assistance  or  addition  by  any  person  what- 
ever. 

The  book  being  very  much  approved  of  by  many  of  her  friends, 
she  apprehended  she  could  make  it  more  useful  by  a  large  addition 
out  of  many  other  papers  she  had   by  her.     Upon  this  she  printed 

27 


210  MEMOIRS  OF 

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  ev- 
ery evening  employed  no  inconsiderable  time,  in  recollecting  her  ac- 
tions and  discourse  in  the  day ;  and  she  would  call  herself  to  an  ac- 
count in  every  particular,  that  the  errors  of  every  day  past  might  be 
avoided  in  those  that  should  follow. 

She  continually  labored  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  emi- 
nent 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, 
January  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  danger;  but,  her  lungs  being  weak,  she  sunk 
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  appears  by  the  following  clause  in  her 
will.  "  I  will  that  my  body  be  buried  in  the  parish  church  of  Spetch- 
ly, 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  kind- 
ness to  my  present  husband,  who  has  by  his  great  kindness  and  con- 
fidence deserved  from  me  all  the  gratitude  and  acknowledgments  of 
love  and  respect  1  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  that  were  not  acquainted  with 
her,  I  am  confident  what  I  say  will  be  judged  by  them  who  knew  her, 
to  fall  below  her  character." 

She  knew  exactly  how  to  distinguish  between  the  means  and  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 


*  The  Hev.  Dr.  T.  Goodwyn,  Archdeacon  of  Oxford. 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    BURNET.  211 

fully  persuaded  that  she  was  to  maintain  a  strict  government  over  her 
passions,  to  observe  a  constant  care  and  watchfulness  over  her  whole 
conduct,  and  to  abound  in  every  good  work. 

Though  she  had  no  skill  in  the  learned  languages,  yet  by  making 
the  understanding  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  nat- 
urally 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  considered  the  "  one  thing  needful,"  and  applied  herself  wholly 
to  what  related  to  it ;  and  even  in  that  she  valued  knowledge  only  as 
it  purified  the  mind.  Her  chief  care  was  to  govern  her  passions ;  to 
moderate  her  affections  to  created  objects  ;  and  to  elevate  her  soul  to 
an  entire  resignation  and  conformity  to  the  holy  will  of  God. 


212 


MRS.  ELIZABETH  ROWE. 


Mrs.  Elizabeth  Rowe,  a  gentlewoman  not  more  admired  for 
her  fine  writings  by  the  ingenious  who  did  not  know  her,  than  esteem- 
ed and  loved  by  all  her  acquaintance,  for  the  many  amiable  qualities 
of  her  heart,  was  born  atllchester,  in  Somersetshire,  Sept.  11,  1674, 
being  the  eldest  of  three  daughters*  of  Mr.  Walter  Singer  a  gentle- 
man of  a  good  family,  and  Mrs.  Elizabeth  Portnell,  both  of  them 
persons  of  distinguished  merit  and  piety.  Mr.  Singer  was  not  a  na- 
tive of  Uchester,  not  so  much  as  an  inhabitant,  before  his  imprison- 
ment 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  regard,  not  only  to  them,  but  to  our  common 
Lord,  in  this  way  commenced  an  acquaintance  with  Mr.  Singer, 
which  afterward  proceeded  to  a  union  that  death  alone  could  dis- 
solve ;  and  this  it  did  too  soon  for  the  mournful  surviver,  if  the  tender- 
est  affection  might  be  judged,  and  for  the  world  also,  which  can  badly 
bear  to  lose  any,  and  especially  the  eminent  examples  of  virtue  and 
religion,  in  the  several  scenes  and  stations  of  life.  Till  her  death 
Mr.  Singer  resided  at  Uchester,  but  not  long  after  removed  into  the 
neighborhood  of  Frome,  in  the  same  county,  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  adherence  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  men5  not  only  writing  to  him, 
but  honoring  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  neg- 
lected prayer  ;  and  as  far  as  be  knew  his  own  heart,  had  sincerely  en- 
deavored to  keep  a  good  conscience.  He  died  as  he  had  lived,  April, 
1 9,  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,  and  witness  to  the  heroic  and  christian  manner  in  which 


*  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 
elory.  She  had  the  same  extreme  passion  for  books,  chiefly  those  of  medicine,  in 
which  she  arrived  at  a  considerable  skill.  Both  the  sisters  frequently  studied  till 
midnight. — Biograph.  Britannica. 


MEMOIRS,    &C.  213 

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  in- 
jured after  his  decease ;  conversed,  though  under  great  bodily  disor- 
ders, 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  ;  shewed 
an  uncommon  sweetness  and  patience  in  his  behavior,  and  was  ex- 
ceeding thankful  to  those  who  did  the  least  kind  office  for  him, 
though  they  owed  him  a  great  deal  more."  In  a  memorandum  re- 
lating to  her  father's  last  sickness  and  death,  Mrs.  Rowe  herself 
has  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,  Lord  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  dien  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  height- 
en 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  colors.  Mr. 
Singer,  perceiving  her  fondness  for  this  art,  was  at  the  expense  of  a 
master  to  instruct  her  in  it,  and  it  never  ceased  to  be  her  amuse- 
ment till  her  death. 

She  was  also  very  much  delighted  with  music,  chiefly  of  the  grave 
and  solemn  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  gen- 
ius this  way,  that  her  very  prose  has  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 


*  Devotional  Exercises,  p.  .')'.]. 


214  MEMOIRS    OF 

a  single  letter  but  it  bore  the  stamp  of  the  poet.  One  of  her  ac- 
quaintance 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  22d  of  her  age,  a  col- 
lection of  her  poems  on  various  occasions  was  published  at  the  de- 
sire of  two  of  her  friends,  which  we  may  suppose  did  not  contain  all 
that  she  had  by  her,  since  the  ingenious  prefacer  gives  the  reader  to 
hope,  "  that  the  author  might  in  a  little  time  be  prevailed  with  to  ob- 
lige the  world  with  a  second  part,  no  way  inferior  to  the  former." 

Though  many  of  these  poems  are  of  the  religious  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  no- 
thing that  injured  the  cause  of  virtue,  she  was  displeased  with  her- 
self for  having  written  any  thing  that  did  not  directly  promote  it. 

What  first  introduced  her  to  the  notice  of  Lord  Weymouth's  fam- 
ily, was  a  little  copy  of  verses  of  hers,  with  which  they  were  so 
highly  delighted  as  to  express  a  curiosity  to  see  her ;  and  the  friend- 
ship that  commenced  from  that  time,  subsisted  ever  after,  not  more  to 
her  honor,  who  was  the  favorite  of  persons  so  much  superior  to  her- 
self in  the  outward  distinctions  of  life,  than  to  the  praise  of  their 
judgment  and  taste,  who  knew  how  to  prize,  and  took  a  pleasure  to 
encourage  such  blooming  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  Viscount  Weymouth,  who  will- 
ingly 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  three  and  twenty 
when  he  married,  was  possessed  of  a  very  fine  understanding,  had 
largely  enriched  his  mind  with  learning,  and  was  remarkably  devoted 
to  knowledge  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  stu- 
dy to  repay  the  felicity  with  which  she  crowned  his  life.  The  es- 
teem and  tenderness  he  had  for  her  are  inexpressible.  It  was  some 
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. 


MRS.     ELIZABETH    ROWE.  215 

Long  may  thy  inspiring  page 
And  great  example  bless  the  rising  age  ! 
Long  in  thy  charming  prison  may'st  thou  stay, 
Late,  very  Jate,  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  ! 
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  increas- 
ed, and  he  appeared  to  labor  under  all  the  symptoms  of  a  consump- 
tion. This  fatal  distemper,  after  it  had  confined  him  some  months, 
cut  off  the  fair  hopes  of  his  doing  great  honor  and  service  to  his 
country ;  and  put  a  period  to  his  life,  May  13,  1715,  when  he  was 
but  just  past  the  twenty-eight  year  of  his  age.  He  died  at  Hamp- 
stead,  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. 

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 
indulged  her  invincible  inclinations  to  solitude,  by  removing  to 
Frome,  in  Somersetshire,  in  the  neighborhood  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  du- 
ty to  violate  her  resolution.  In  compliance  with  the  importunate  re- 
quests of  the  Honorable  Mrs.  Thynne,  she  passed  some  months  with 
her  at  London,  after  the  death  of  her  daughter,  the  Lady  Brooke ; 
and   on   the  melancholy  occasion  of  the  decease  of  Mrs.  Thynne 


216  MEMOIRS  OF 

herself,  she  could  not  dispute  the  solicitations  of  the  Countess  of 
Hertford,  afterwards  the  Duchess  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 
kind  of  violence,  to  spend  a  few  months  at  this  or  some  other  of  her 
ladyship's  country  seats.  Yet  even  on  these  occasions,  Mrs.  Rowe 
never  quitted  her  silent  retreat  without  very  sincere  regret,  and  al- 
ways returned  to  it  as  soon  as  ever  she  could  with  decency  disengage 
herself  from  the  importunity  of  her  noble  friends. 

In  this  recess  she  composed  her  pieces  entitled  "  Friendship  in 
Death,"  and  the  several  parts  of  the  letters  "  Moral  and  Entertain- 
ing." The  drift  of  the  letters  from  the  dead  is,  as  the  ingenious  au- 
thor *  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,  a  habitual 
persuasion  of  our  future  existence  by  writings  built  on  that  founda- 
tion." It  may  be  added  also,  that  the  design  of  both  of  these,  and 
the  letters  "  Moral  and  Entertaining,"  is,  by  fictitious  examples  of  he- 
roic virtue,  and  the  most  generous  benevolence,  to  allure  the  reader 
to  the  practice  of  every  thing  that  ennobles  human  nature,  and  bene- 
fits the  world  ;  and  by  the  just  and  lively  images  of  the  remorse  and 
misery  attendant  on  vice,  to  warn  the  young  and  unthinking  from  be- 
ing seduced  to  ruin  by  the  enchanting  name  of  pleasure :  the  piety 
of  which  intention  is  the  more  worthy  of  the  highest  panegyric,  as  it 
is  so  uncommon  in  witty  and  polite  writers. 

In  the  year  1736,  the  importunity  of  some  of  Mrs.  Rowe's  ac- 
quaintance, who  had  seen  the  "History of  Joseph"  in  manuscript, 
prevailed  on  her,  though  not  without  real  reluctance,  to  suffer  the  po- 
em to  be  made  public.  She  wrote  this  piece  in  her  younger  years, 
and,  when  first  printed,  had  carried  it  no  farther  than  the  marriage  of 
the  hero  of  the  poem  ;  but,  at  the  request  of  her  friends,  particularly 
an  illustrious  lady  f  to  wThom  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  employment  of  three  or  four  days.  This  addition- 
al part,  which  was  her  last  work,  was  published  but  a  few  weeks  be- 
fore 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  scarcely  any  indisposition 


*  Dr.  Young.  i  The  Duchess  of  Somerset. 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    ROVVE.  217 

severe  enough  10  confine  her  to  her  bed.  But  about  a  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  expressed  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  of  the  atonement  and 
mediation  of  our  blessed  Redeemer,  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  evi- 
denced that  she  really  felt  all  the  elevated  sentiments  of  pious  ectasy 
and  triumph  which  breathe  in  that  beautiful  piece  of  sacred  poetry. 
After  this  threatening  illness,  Mrs.  Rowe  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,  encouraged  her  friends 
to  flatter  themselves  with  a  much  longer  enjoyment  of  so  valuable  a 
life  than  it  pleased  Heaven  to  allow  them.  On  the  day  in  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  vigor  ;  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. 
A^out  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  speech- 
less, and  in  the  agonies  of  death.  She  had  the  immediate  assistance 
of  a  physician  and  surgeon,  but  all  the  means  used  were  without  suc- 
cess ;  and  after  having  given  one  groan,  she  expired  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  uncon~ 
nected  sentences. 

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  heavenly  comforts  to  my  soul ! 
O  speak,  celestial  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  favor  and  assistance,  Mrs.  Rowe 
made  the  last  use  of  the  powers  of  her  reason  below  the  skies ;  though 

28 


218  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  complete- 
ly answered,  and  be  exchanged  for  eternal  enjoyment  and  praise. 

As  she  was  greatly  apprehensive  that  the  violence  of  pain,  or  the 
languors  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  appear- 
ed from  her  manuscript-book  of  devotion,  that  she  might  not  in  this 
manner  dishonor  her  profession ;  and  she  often  expressed  to  her 
friends  her  desires  of  a  sudden  removal  to  the  skies,  as  it  must  ne- 
cessarily prevent  any  such  improper  behavior  in  her  last  moments  : 
so  that  as  the  suddenness  of  Mrs.  Rowe's  death  must  be  numbered 
among  the  felicities  with  which  she  was  favored  by  Providence,  it 
may  be  interpreted  also  as  a  reward  of  her  singular  piety,  and  a  to- 
ken of  the  divine  favor  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  satisfac- 
tions ;  yet,  instead  of  any  excessive  fondness  for  things  present  and 
visible,  her  contempt  for  what  she  used  to  term  a  low  state  of  exis- 
tence, and  a  dull  round  of  insipid  pleasures,  and  the  desires  with 
which  she  breathed  after  the  enjoyments  of  the  heavenly  world,  were 
great  beyond  conception.  When  her  acquaintance  expressed  to  her 
the  joy  they  felt  at  seeing  her  look  so  well,  and  possessed  of  so  much 
health  as  promised  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 
complimenting  him  on  the  strength  of  the  walls  of  his  dungeon  :"  and, 
indeed,  the  fervor  of  her  wishes  to  commence  the  life  of  angels  irre- 
sistibly 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 
uncommon  sorrow  by  all  who  had  heard  of  her  virtue  and  merit,  but 
particularly  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  benefac- 
tress, poured  blessings  on  her  memory,  and  recounted  to  each  other 
the  gentle  and  condescending  manner  with  which  she  heard  their  re- 
quests, and  the  numerous  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  Hertford,  the  Earl  of  Orrery,  Mr.  James  Theobald,  and  Mrs. 
Sarah  Rowe.  These  letters  Mrs.  Rowe  had  ordered  to  be  deliver- 
ed to  the  persons  to  whom  they  were  directed  immediately  after  her 
decease.     They  are  published  in  her  life,  drawn  up  by  Mr.  Theoph- 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    ROWE.  219 

ilus  Rowe,  and  prefixed  to  her  miscellaneous  works  in  prose  and 
verse,  and  discover  a  most  pious  spirit,  a  most  tender  and  affection- 
ate friendship  ;  and,  were  it  not  that  they  would  carry  us  beyond  our 
proposed  limits,  we  might  lay  them  before  our  readers. 

Besides  these  letters,  she  wrote  also  another  to  Dr.  Watts,  accom- 
panying her  papers,  containing  the  devout  Exercises  of  her  Heart  in 
Meditation,  Soliloquy,  Prayer,  and  Praise,  which  the  doctor,  accord- 
ing to  her  desire,  soon  after  her  decease  communicated  to  the  world. 

To  the  Rev.  Dr.  Watts,  at  Newington. 

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  conven- 
iently, only  you  have  full  liberty  to  suppress  what  you  think  proper. 
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 
improvement ;  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  sleep- 
ing in  the  dust,  these  soliloquies  should  kindle  a  flame  of  divine  love 
in  the  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  eterni- 
ty— 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  forever.  I 
shall  drink  at  the  fountain-head  of  pleasure,  and  be  refreshed  with 
the  emanations  of  original  life  and  joy.  I  shall  hear  the  voice  of  un- 
created 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 
righteousness  and  atonement  of  my  great  Redeemer  for  pardon  and 
salvation.  This  is  my  only  consolation  and  hope.  "  Enter  not  into 
judgment,  O  Lord,  with  thy  servant,  for  in  thy  sight  shall  no  flesh  be 
justified." 

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  reach- 
ed the  celestial  heights ;  and,  while  you  are  reading  these  lines,  1 
shall  be  adoring  before  the  throne  of  God,  where  faith  shall  be  turn- 
ed into  vision,  and  these  languishing  desires  satisfied  with  the  full  fru- 
ition of  immortal  love.     Adieu.  Elizabeth  Rowe. 


220  MEMOIRS  OF 

Besides  the  compositions  of  Mrs.  Rowe  which  have  been  already 
mentioned,  namely,  Friendship  in  Death,  Letters  Moral  and  Enter- 
taining, The  History  of  Joseph,  and  The  Devout  Exercises  of  the 
Heart,  there  are  also  two  more  volumes  that  go  under  the  name  of 
her  Miscellaneous  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  letters  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  imma- 
ture death  of  the  author,  of  his  corrections,  yet  shew  so  much  strength 
of  genius  as  will  easily  atone  for  any  slight  inaccuracies." — "  She 
had  no  other  view,"  says  the  editor  of  her  Miscellaneous  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,  contin- 
ues 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  cen- 
sure 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 
compositions  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.  Mat- 
thew Prior,  "  conspire  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  shewn,  while  we  communicate  the  picture,  if 
we  may  so  style  it,  of  the  amiable  excellencies  of  her  mind,  as  drawn 
by  the  just-mentioned  writer  of  her  Life,  as  well  as  editor  of  her  Mis- 
cellanies. 

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  approach- 
es of  old  age  itself.  It  has  been  questioned  whether  she  was  ever 
angry  in  her  whole  life,  at  least  with  those  little  infelicities  and  dis- 
pleasing incidents  that  fell  out  in  common  life,  which,  though  really 
of  a  trivial  nature,  frequently  prove  too  powerful  temptations  to  in- 
decencies of  passion,  but  with  her  they  were  rather  the  subjects  of 
mirth  and  agreeable  raillery.  It  ought  also  to  be  observed,  as  per- 
sons are  apt  to  be  least  on  their  guard  against  excesses  of  this  kind 
towards  inferiors  and  domestics,  that  her  servant,  who  lived  with  her 
near  twenty  years,  scarce  ever  discovered  in  her  mistress  any  ten- 
dency to  anger  towards  herself,  or  any  warmth  of  resentment  against 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    ROWE.  221 

others,  except  in  the  cause  of  Heaven  against  impiety  and  flagrant 
crimes;  on  which  occasions  some  degree  of  indignation  is  not  only  ir- 
reproachable, but  truly  deserving  the  name  of  commendable  and  vir- 
tuous zeal. 

Together  with  the  most  manly  elevation  of  genius,  Mrs.  Rowe 
possessed  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  ex- 
pressed the  strongest  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  engagement,  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  gov- 
ern my  tongue  by  the  strictest  rules  of  charity  and  truth,  and  never 
to  utter  any  evil  surmises,  or  make  the  least  reflection  to  the  dishon- 
or of  my  neighbor.  Let  me  in  the  minutest  circumstances  do  to  oth- 
ers as  1  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  Lord, 
my  Redeemer,  let  me  engage  with  all  my  future  temptations.  Look 
graciously  on  ihis  petition,  and  remember  me  when  I  am  in  any  sus- 
pense, any  exigence,  and  am  ready  to  forget  my  engagements.  In 
the  moment  when  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  the  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  in- 
timate 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  conversation,  she  had  sometimes,  when  the  freedom 
might  be  decently  used,  the  courage   openly  to  condemn  ii,  "  and," 


222  MEMOIRS    OF 

says  her  biographer,  "  I  believe  always  the  generosity  to  undertake  the 
defense  of  the  absent,  when  unjustly  accused,  and  to  extenuate  even 
their  real  faults  and  errors." 

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  accompanied  with  an  easy  goodness  and  unaffected  openness  of 
behavior,  she  powerfully  charmed  all  who  conversed  with  her.  A 
peculiar  elevation  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  sometimes  entertained  her  friends  on  more  gay  and 
indifferent  subjects.  But,  as  soon  as  a  transition  could  be  made 
without  the  appearance  of  affectation,  she  returned  to  her  favorite 
topics,  on  which  she  exerted  all  her  exquisite  talents  to  recommend 
the  most  exact  morality  and  sublime  piety,  so  that  it  seemed  impos- 
sible 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 
conciliated  to  her  to  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  hu- 
man race.  She  rarely  mentioned  any  of  her  writings,  even  to  her 
most  intimate  friends,  nor  ever  discovered  the  least  elation  of  mind  at 
their  great  success,  and  the  approbation  they  received  from  some  of 
the  finest  writers  of  the  age.  The  praises  with  which  her  works 
were  honored  only  led  her  to  ascribe  the  glory  to  the  original  of  all 
perfection  on  whose  power  she  maintained  a  constant  sense  of  her  de- 
pendence, and  with  the  most  grateful  piety  owned  her  obligations  to 
his  goodness.  "  It  is  but  for  Heaven,"  said  she,  "  to  give  a  turn  to 
one  of  my  nerves,  and  I  should  be  an  ideot."  She  assumed  no  in- 
decent 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. 

Mrs.  Rowe  was  exemplary  in  every  relative  duty.  Filial  piety 
was  a  remarkable  part  of  her  character.     She  loved  the  best  of  fa- 

*  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  color,  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  perfectly  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  virtue  apparent 
in  the  countenance  are  wont  to  create." 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    ROWE.  223 

thers  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  was  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  and  obliging  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.  Her  capacity  for  superior  things  did 
not  tempt  her  to  neglect  the  less  honorable  cares,  which  the  laws  of 
custom  and  decency  impose  on  the  female  sex  in  the  connubial  state, 
and  much  less  was  she  led  by  a  sense  of  her  own  merit  to  assume 
any  thing  to  herself  inconsistent  with  that  duty  and  submission  which 
the  precepts  of  Christian  piety  so  expressly  enjoin.  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  passion  of  the  like 
kind  in  Mrs.  Rowe,  but  on  the  contrary,  she  always  remained  mis- 
tress of  herself,  and  studied  by  the  gentlest  language  and  tenderest 
endearment,  to  restore  Mr.  Rowe's  mind  to  that  calmness  which 
reason  approves ;  and  she  equally  endeavored,  in  every  other  in- 
stance, 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  inconceivable  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  scarcely  be  persuaded  to  forsake  even 
his  breathless  clay,  so  she  consecrated  her  future  years  to  his  mem- 
ory 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  delivered  to  Mrs.  Ara- 
bella 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  dy- 
ing, familiar  scenes  to  my  imagination.  Whatever  such  distinguish- 
ed sense  and  merit  could  claim,  I  have  endeavored  to  pay  my  much 
loved  husband's  memory.  I  reflect  with  pleasure  on  my  conduct  on 
this  occasion,  not  only  from  a  principle  of  justice  and  gratitude  to 
him,  but  from  a  conscious  sense  of  honor,  and  love  of  a  virtuous 


224  MEMOIRS    OP 

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  becoming  tenderness  and  sensibility,  which 
ought  to  touch  every  human  and  generous  heart  at  the  loss  of  the 
dearest  persons  on  earth  ;  yet  her  submission  to  the  determinations  of 
Divine  Providence  was  exemplary,  and  she  never  presumed  to 
breathe  any  criminal  murmurs  against  the  will  of  Heaven,  which  is 
ever  just  and  good,  nor  behaved  in  these  dark  hours  of  distress  and 
temptation  in  a  manner  unsuitable  to  that  eminent  piety  which  appear- 
ed 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  when- 
ever 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  offen- 
ded 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  mar- 
riage." She  knew  when  she  was  well  served,  and  reposed  so  much 
trust  in  those  whose  fidelity  she  had  experienced,  that  it  might  verge 
to  excess.;  "yet  even  such  great  confidence,"  continues  her  historian 
"  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  honor." 

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.  She  was  always  forward  to  do  them  good  offices ; 
but  in  a  distinguished  manner  she  studied  with  infinite  art  and  zeal 
to  insinuate  the  love  of  virtue  into  all  her  acquaintance,  and  to  pro- 
mote their  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  favor.  This  she  proposed  as  the  best  end  of  friend- 
ship. 

She  was  not  entirely  free  from  the  attacks  of  malice,  that  she 
might  not  be  without  the  opportunity  of  exercising  the  divine  spirit 
of  forgiveness ;  yet  one  could  scarce  learn  from  her  discourse  that 
she  had  an  enemy,  for  she  was  not  wont  to  complain  of  any  inde- 
cent conduct  or  injuries  done  to  herself.  So  that  it  was  apparent 
that  such  treatment  made  light  impressions  on  her  mind,  or  that  she 
had  endeavored  to  suppress  them  with  the  happiest  success. 

Her  charities  were  so  great,  that  if  we  consider  the  mediocrity  of 
her  fortune,  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  ne- 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    ROWE.  225 

cessities  of  life,  to  the  relief  of  the  indigent  and  distressed.  This 
her  manuscript  acquaints  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  per- 
form this,  and  beyond  this  ;  for  if  thou  wilt  indeed  bless  me,  and  en- 
large my  coast,  all  that  I  have  beyond  the  bare  convenience  and  ne- 
cessity of  life  shall  be  the  Lord's ;  and  O  grant  me  sufficiency,  that 
I  may  abound  in  every  good  work ;  O  let  me  be  the  messenger  of 
consolation  to  the  poor  !  Here  am  I,  Lord,  send  me.  Let  me  have 
the  honor  to  administer  to  the  necessities  of  my  brethren.  I  am  in- 
deed unworthy  to  wipe  the  feet  of  the  least  of  the  servants  of  my 
Lord,  much  more  unworthy  of  this  glorious  commission  ;  and  yet, 
O  send  me,  for  thy  goodness  is  free  !  send  whom  thou  wilt  on  em- 
bassies to  the  kings  and  rulers  of  the  earth,  but  let  me  be  a  servant 
to  the  servants  of  my  Lord.  Let  me  administer  consolation  and  re- 
lief 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  superfluous  expenses  in  dress  and  luxury,  but  through  an 
excess  of  benevolence,  if  there  can  be  any  excess  in  such  a  godlike 
disposition,  to  enlarge  her  abilities  of  doing  good  to  her  fellow  crea- 
tures, she  denied  herself  what  might  in  some  sense  be  called  the  ne- 
cessaries of  life. 

Misery  and  indigence  were  a  sufficient  recommendation  to  her 
compassionate  regard  and  assistance,  yet  she  showed  a  distinguished 
readiness  to  alleviate  the  afflictions  of  persons  of  merit  and  virtue; 
and  one,  who  had  the  best  opportunity  of  making  the  observation,  de- 
clared, that  she  never  knew  any  such  apply  to  Mrs.  Rowe  without 
success.  The  first  lime  she  accepted  of  an  acknowledgment  from 
the  bookseller  for  any  of  her  works,  she  bestowed  the  whole  sum  on 
a  family  in  distress,  and  there  is  great  reason  to  believe  that  she  em- 
ployed all  the  money  that  she  ever  received  on  such  an  account  in  as 
generous  a  manner  :  and  once,  when  she  had  not  by  her  a  sum  large 

29 


226  MEMOIRS  OF 

enough  to  supply  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  herself  with  pieces  of  money  of  different  value,  that 
she  might  relieve  any  objects  of  compassion  who  should  fall  in  her 
way,  according  to  their  several  degrees  of  merit  or  indigence.  Nor 
was  her  munificence  confined  to  the  neighborhood  of  the  place  where 
she  lived,  but,  during  her  residence  in  the  country,  she  sent  large 
sums  to  London,  and  other  distant  parts.  She  contributed  to  some 
designs  that  had  the  appearance  of  charity,  though  she  could  not  ap- 
prove of  them  in  every  respect,  observing,  that  it  was  fit  sometimes 
to  give  for  the  credit  of  religion,  when  other  inducements  were  want- 
ing, 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  effectually  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  dis- 
tribution of  books  on  practical  subjects,  she  employed  her  own  hands 
in  labors  of  charity  to  clothe  the  necessitous.  This  she  did  not  on- 
ly 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  employment 
to  make  garments  of  almost  every  kind,  and  bestow  them  on  those 
who  wanted  them.  She  discovered  a  strong  sense  of  humanity,  and 
often  shewed  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  ta  ex- 
amine what  they  stood  in  need  of  when  they  were  sick,  but  often  vis- 
ited 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  munificence  in 
which  she  greatly  delighted,  was  causing  children  to  be  taught  to 
read  and  work,  These  she  furnished  with  supplies  of  clothing,  as 
well  as  bibles,  and  other  necessary  books  of  instruction.  This  she 
did  not  only  at  Frome,  but  also  at  a  neighboring  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  in- 
struct them  in  the  plain  and  necessary  principles  and  duties  of  reli- 
gion ;  and  the  grief  she  felt  when  any  of  them  did  not  answer  the 
hopes  she  had  entertained,  was  equal  to  the  great  satisfaction  she  re- 
ceived, when  it  appeared  that  her  care  and  bounty  had  been  well 
placed.     She  was  also  a  contributor  to  a  charitable  institution  at 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    ROWE.  227 

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  per- 
sons of  almost  all  the  sects  into  which  Christianity  is  divided  ;  and 
even  those  whose  religious  opinions  seemed  to  her  of  the  most  dan- 
gerous consequence,  were  large  recipients  of  her  bounty.  Nor  was 
her  beneficence  limited  to  those  who  in  strict  terms  might  be  called 
poor,  for,  as  she  was  wont  to  say,  "It  was  one  of  the  greatest  bene- 
fits that  could  be  done  to  mankind,  to  free  them  from  the  cares  and 
anxieties  that  attend  a  narrow  fortune  ;"  in  pursuance  of  which  gen- 
erous sentiments  she  has  been  often  known  to  make  large  presents  to 
persons  who  were  not  in  the  last  extremes  of  indigence.  With  re- 
gard 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  her  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  perhaps  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  favor  by  the  ready  and  obliging  man- 
ner 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  warmest  expressions  of  good-will, 
always  accompanied  her  substantial  acts  of  mercy.  The  distressed 
were  encouraged  to  d^close  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  offense  at  the  appearance  of  ingratitude  in  her 
dependents.  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  construc- 
tion on  their  behavior,  "That  they  expected  something  better  than 
ordinary  at  her  table;"  and  she  was  so  far  from  resenting  this  inde- 
cent 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  possess- 
ed could  supply  such  various  and  extensive  benefactions ;  and  her 
own  sense  of  this  once  broke  out  to  an  intimate  friend.     "  I  am  sur- 


*  "  These  hands  will  shortly  be  stiff  and  useless  in  the  grave,  that  are  now  capa- 
ble of  distributing  to  the  necessities  of  the  poor  and  afflicted,  if  thou  wouldstgive 
me  the  glad  commission.  0  send  me  the  ready  messenger  of  consolation  to  then- 
wants  and  distress!  Hear  their  blessings  and  prayers  for  me!  Betbre  they  asked  I 
have  heard  their  wants." — A  passage  in  her  manuscript  Devotions. 


228  MEMOIRS,  &C. 

prised,"  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  honor  to  the  divine  blessing, 
which,  as  she  was  wont  to  acknowledge  with  great  piety,  protect- 
ed her  from  losses,  and  succeeded  all  her  affairs  ;  for  it  would  be 
extreme  injustice  to  interpret  her  expressions  of  gratitude  to  the  good- 
ness of  Providence  in  a  different  manner,  since  her  great  care  to 
conceal  her  charities  from  the  observation  of  mortals,  gives  the  high- 
est evidence  that  no  love  of  human  applause  tainted  the  purity  of  her 
benevolent  dispositions. 


229 


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  particu- 
larly by  her  grandmother,  Lady  Dunbar,  who  was  a  virtuous  and  pi- 
ous 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  ob- 
servable in  her  to  the  last. 

When  she  was  a  young  girl  with  her  parents,  her  mother  wonld 
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,  hav- 
ing an  abhorrence  of  the  profaneness  and  ribaldry  with  which  they 
are  ready  to  defile  one  another's  ears,  and  pollute  their  hearts.  And 
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 
another,  and  that  one  of  the  best  means  to  keep  them  from  evil  is  to 
preserve  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  de- 
light 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  again  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 


230  MEMOIRS    OF 

from  his  wickedness  which  he  hath  committed,  and  doth  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. 

When  she  was  with  her  parents,  her  mother  happened  to  be  visit- 
ed with  a  severe  and  long  sickness,  during  which  she  constantly  at- 
tended her,  and  ministered  to  her  in  every  thing,  sitting  up  by  her  in 
the  night  to  serve  her ;  and  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  after- 
wards created  Earl  of  Seafield,  and  whose  eminent  parts  appeared 
in  the  discharge  of  two  great  offices  of  state,  that  of  secretary  of  state, 
and  that  of  lord  high  chancellor,  to  which  he  was  advanced  in  this  and 
the  last  reign,  first  to  the  one,  and  then  to  the  other;  and  that  for 
two  several  times,  continuing  in  the  last  till  the  late  union  of  both 
kingdoms  into  one,  of  Great  Britain. 

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  nev- 
er seen  him,  but  she  would  not  do  it.  When  he  first  addressed  her, 
she  gave  him  no  other  return  but  that  she  was  to  obey  her  parents, 
and  be  directed  by  them.  When  all  was  agreed  to,  he  made  her 
a  present  of  a  rich  diamond  ring,  but  she  would  by  no  means  accept 
of  it  till  the  marriage  was  solemnized :  she  considering  that  many 
have  been  contracted,  who  have  not  been  married  together :  and 
that  if  it  should  so  happen  with  her,  such  a  present  could  not  be 
kept,  and  therefore  she  chose  rather  not  to  accept  of  it. 

The  entering  into  the  married  state  so  young,  where  she  foresaw 
so  many  difficulties,  made  her  very  thoughtful,  and  therefore  she  had 
recourse  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  no  plentiful  fortune 
in  the  world,  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 
prudent  management ;  and  their  worldly  wealth  still  increasing,  and 
God  blessing  them  with  a  plentiful  fortune,  and  her  husband  being 
for  the  most  part  from  home,  and  committing  to  her  the  care  and 
management  of  his  own  estate,  she  did  it  with  great  application  and 


THE    COUNTESS    OF    SEAFIELD.  231 

fidelity.     She  looked  on  herself  as  the  steward  of  it  for  her  husband, 
and  that  she  was  obliged  to  be  faithful  to  her  trust. 

When  her  first  son  was  born,  being  of  a  thin  body,  she  was  pre- 
vailed with  to  give  him  to  be  nursed  by  another  woman,  who  proving 
a  very  bad  nurse,  occasioned  much  sickness  to  the  child,  which 
brought  him  to  the  gates  of  death,  for  which  the  mother  had  deep  re- 
morse ;  and  having  met  with  the  same  affliction  in  her  second  child, 
for  which  she  was  touched  with  like  trouble,  she  resolved  afterwards 
to  nurse  her  own  children,  which  she  accordingly  essayed  in  the  next 
child,  her  present  eldest  daughter;  but,  after  two  months'  suckling, 
she  became  so  weak  that  she  was  forced  to  give  it  over. 

Though  her  husband  was  for  the  most  part,  always  abroad,  being 
employed  in  the  public  affairs,  yet  she  kept  still  at  home,  being  care- 
ful 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  example  for  the  ladies  of  this  age. 

She  was  most  careful  to  nip  the  first  buds  of  vice  that  appeared  in 
her  children,  and  to  pull  them  up  by  the  root.  She  still  inculcated 
to  them  the  heinousness  of  their  disobedience  to  God,  and  their  sin- 
ning against  him,  and  would  not  forgive  them  the  offense  they  had 
done,  till  they  had  first  earnestly  begged  pardon  of  God.  And  she 
made  them  still  conceive  that  the  reason  of  their  obedience  to  her 
commands,  was  because  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  heinous- 
ness 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  coming  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  dreadfulness  of  the  account  he  must  have  to 
give  at  the  last  judgment  for  this  uncharitableness,  when  we  shall  be 
judged  by  Jesus  Christ  according  to  our  charity  or  want  of  it ;  and 
did  so  inculcate  upon  him  the  thoughts  of  death  and  judgment,  heav- 
en 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-con- 
ceit. 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  still  her  care  to  make  no  shew  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 


232 


MEMOIRS    OF 


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  depending  upon  him,  and  having  re- 
course to  him  by  prayer  on  all  occasions,  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  em- 
ploy the  Lord's-day  in  reading  and  meditating  on  the  holy  Scrip- 
tures 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  ; 
and  after  she  had  ended  her  own  devotions,  would  call  in  the  child 
again,  and  take  an  account  of  it.  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  morn- 
ing, 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  fam- 
ily was  committed  to  her ;  in  the  management  of  which  she  discov- 
ered a  wonderful  prudence  and  discretion,  far  beyond  what  could 
have  been  expected  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  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  without  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  concern  in  their  little  quarrels  and  resent- 
ments. She  heard  them  complain  of  each  other,  without  offending 
the  person  complained  of,  and  was  displeasing  to  none  of  them. 

The  Earl  of  Seafield  had  been  in  public  office  several  years,  both 
in  Edinburgh  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  why  she  lived  still  in  the  coun- 
try, and  concluded  her  lord  was  ashamed  to  bring  her  to  the  court 
and  the  city,  because  of  her  rural  breeding.  They  earnestly  pres- 
sed him  to  bring  her  up,  and  they  pleased  themselves  with  the  fan- 
cy of  the  sport  and  divertisement  they  should  have  in  the  manners, 
speech,  conversation,  and  behavior  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  husband  ;  and  as  she  was  well  pleased  to 
live  in  the  country  as  long  as  he  saw  it  fit,  so  she  made  no  scruple, 
upon  his  call,  to  come  to  the  city.  Before  she  came  first  to  Edin- 
burgh, she  had  never  been  in  a  town  so  remarkable  as  Aberdeen, 


THE    COUNTESS    OP    SEAFIELD.  233 

and  therefore  one  would  think  everything  might  seem  strange  to  her; 
but,  on  the  contrary,  she  did  not  appear  at  all  affected  with  the  nov- 
elty of  things.  When  the  ladies  and  others  came  to  visit  her,  they 
were  surprised  to  find  how  much  they  had  been  mistaken  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  behavior 
towards  others  was  so  courteous,  that  never  any  one  who  saw  her, 
of  what  quality  soever,  thought  her  wanting  in  the  respect  due  to 
them.  Whatever  occasions  offered  of  doing  good  offices  to  others, 
she  was  ready  to  embrace  them.  In  conversation  she  had  an  easi- 
ness of  expressing  herself  in  proper  words,  without  the  least  affecta- 
tion. 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  stran- 
ger. She  had  nothing  of  the  coquetry  of  the  age ;  her  behavior  in 
all  things  was  perfectly  modest  and  unaffected  ;  and  both  in  Scotland 
and  England,  in  the  opinion  of  the  most  discerning  persons,  she  ob- 
tained the  character  of  one  of  the  most  accomplished  ladies  in  Brit- 
ain, 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  honor  and  interest  of  her  husband,  and  to  vindicate 
him  from  the  reproaches  cast  upon  him ;  and  yet,  nevertheless,  re- 
tained the  general  good  will,  so  that  when  the  rabble  arose  at  Edin- 
burgh with  respect  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  insolencies  there ; 
yet,  upon  a  suggestion  made  them  that  none  was  there  but  this  virtu- 
ous lady,  and  that  it  would  be  ungenerous  to  treat  her  indiscreetly, 
they  turned  their  course  another  way. 

In  the  year  1706,  her  lord  being  then  Chancellor  of  Scotland,  and 
about  to  return  from  court,  and  having  desired  her  to  meet  him  at 
Edinburgh  against  such  a  time,  while  she  was  making  ready  for  the 
journey,  she  was  seized  suddenly  in  her  closet,  at  the  moment  when 
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  eter- 
nity, 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 

30 


234  MEMOIRS  OF 

would  account  heinous  crimes,  yet  she  found  that  she  had  been  seek- 
ing herself  and  her  own  reputation  more  than  God  ;  and  saw  what  a 
difference  there  was  between  that  virtue  which  is  founded  on  true  hu- 
mility 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  compassion  for 
Christ  Jesus'  sake.  And  while  she  was  in  the  extremity  of  weak- 
ness, she  caused  her  eldest  daughter  to  read  to  her  the  fifth  chapter 
of  Matthew,  and  made  so  excellent  a  discourse  on  the  eight  beati- . 
tudes  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  awhile,  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  grant- 
ed 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,  when  she  perused  them,  served  to  enkindle  her 
devotion. 

The  whole  of  these  meditations  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  con- 
fess 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. 

0  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  ac- 
tual giving  myself  to  be  guided  by  thy  revealed  will,  and  by  submis- 
sion 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  with- 
out a  dependence  on  thee,  so  may  I  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  !    Lord, 

1  am  a  poor  defiled  wretch ;  but  it  is  by  thy  blood  I  must  be  cleans- 
ed, whose  I  am,  and  to  whom  I  do  resign  myself,  soul  and  body,  and 


THE    COUNTESS    OF    SEAFIELD.  235 

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 
renounced  in  my  baptism,  and  have  declared  war  against  often  in 
the  vows  which  I  have  made  to  thee." 

"  O  keep  me  from  relying  on  any  thing  but  Christ,  and  him  cru- 
cified, and  on  thy  abounding  mercy.  O  holy  Lord  God,  purge  me 
from  sin,  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  ob- 
ject that  is  worthy  of  all  love  !  Thou  only  canst  satisfy  a  right  placed 
affection !" 

These  are  the  excellent  meditations  which  this  lady  then  formed 
on  this  divine  prayer ;  and  they  manifest  not  only  the  clearness  and 
exactness  of  her  thoughts,  but  also  the  deep  sense  and  feeling  of  her 
heart  with  respect  to  the  greatness  and  goodness  of  God,  and  the 
infinite  obligations  she  had  to  love  him  with  all  her  heart,  and  her 
great  undutifulness  to  so  good  a  God,  and  the  hopes  she  had  in  his 
mercy  through  Jesus  Christ,  to  which  she  flies,  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  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  engagements. 

The  Countess  of  Seafield  continued  in  a  tolerable  state  of  health 
for  about  a  year  after  her  former  sickness;  and  she  was  then  seized 
again  with  the  same  malady,  and  had  the  sentence  of  death  in  her- 
self, 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  an- 
swering 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,  before  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  thith- 
er and  staid  for  some  time.  She  was  here  seized  with  a  violent 
cough,  which  continued  till  she  was  delivered  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  Thcss 


236  MEMOIRS    OF 

v.  16.  "Rejoice  evermore,  pray  without  ceasing,  in  everything 
give  thanks,  for  this  is  the  will  of  God  in  Christ  Jesus  concerning 
you."  She  was  thereby  greatly  comforted  ;  and  the  duty  of  contin- 
ual 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  com- 
plained indeed,  of  frequent  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  favor  is  life.  Weep- 
ing may  endure  for  anight,  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  ?  be  replied,  that  he  had  not  at  that  time 
any  positive  impression  on  his  spirit  that  he  should  then  die,  as  she 
seemed  to  have,  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  ad- 
mitted 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,  look- 
ing a  little  farther,  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  himself  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  prescri- 
bed to  him,  viz.  to  pray  without  ceasing.  He  added  that  on  many 
occasions  afterwards,  when  he  happened  to  be  in  any  of  those  cir- 
cumstances, the  remembrance  of  these  passages  of  Scripture  had 


THE    COUNTESS    OF    SEAFIELD.  237 

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  ceasing ;  but  she  hoped  God  would  mercifully  look  upon  her 
infirmities,  while  she  resolved,  forgetting  what  was  past,  to  do  the 
best  for  the  future. 

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  wholly  with  the  thoughts  of  death  and  eternity. 
She  often  said,  that  it  was  quite  a  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  misspending  of  her 
time,  of  her  having  been  an  unfaithful  steward  of  what  he  had  com- 
mitted to  her  trust,  of  her  unfaithfulness  to  her  former  calls  and  sol- 
emn engagements,  and  that  now,  when  the  cry  was  to  go  out  and 
meet  the  Bridegroom,  she  might  have  had  oil  in  her  lamp  but  she 
had  slumbered  and  slept.  She  continued  for  several  days  in  great 
distress  of  mind,  judging  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  worthy  of  any  regard  from  him.  Thus  she 
poured  out  her  soul  before  God  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  repentance  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. 

Being  in  this  state,  and  bewailing  to  one  her  sinful  condition,  and 
that  although  God  had  preserved  her  from  gross  and  scandalous  sins, 
yet  when  she  placed  herself  in  God's  presence,  and  beheld  his  puri- 
ty, she  saw  in  herself  nothing  but  vileness,  having  sought  only  to 
please  herself,  and  not  God  ;  it  was  said  in  reply,  that  she  had  rea- 
son to  bless  God,  who  had  opened  her  eyes  to  see  her  own  sinful- 
ness, and  that  this  was  a  token  of  his  great  mercy  to  her  ;  though 
her  sins  were  great  and  many,  yet  the  Lord  was  "  not  willing  that 
any  should  perish,  but  that  all  should  come  to  repentance."  "  He 
came  not  to  call  the  righteous  but  sinners  to  repentance."  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  misspent  all  my  life  ;  and  now  no  more 
time  remains  for  inc."     It  was  told  her  that  neither  the  greatness  nor 


238  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  al- 
though her  time  was  now  short,  yet  she  ought  to  consider  that  not 
only  they  who  were  called  at  the  third,  sixth,  aud  ninth  hours  receiv- 
ed 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  slumbered  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  slumbered  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.  Pe- 
ter 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  deceitfulness  of 
my  own  heart,  which  makes  me  think  I  am  penitent,  when  perhaps 
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  salvation  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  merciful  God  and  Savior,  and  to  labor,  by  his  grace, 
to  have  the  present  temper  of  your  heart  all  contrition,  all  love,  all 
adoration.  God  of  his  mercy  has  given  you  this  disposition  at  pres- 
ent, and  he  will  not  break  the  bruised  reed,  nor  quench  the  smoking 
flax,  until  he  bring  forth  judgment  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  ho- 
ly disposition  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  favor  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. 


THE    COUNTESS    OF    SEAFIELD,  239 

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  expedient  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  bodi- 
ly afflictions  but  also  with  affliction  of  spirit,  for  your  greater  purifi- 
cation, and  to  wean  your  heart  from  the  love  of  the  world  and  of  your- 
self, 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.     Besides,  the  graces  you  are  to  labor  after 
are  Faith,  Hope  (not  Assurance,)  and  Charity.     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,  appeared  to  the  fa- 
ther, and  bid  him  be  no  longer  solicitous  in  training  up  that  youth, 
for  he  was  ordained  for  eternal  torment.     The  old  man  was  exceed- 
ingly distressed  at   this ;  which   the  youth  observing,  entreated  to 
know  the  cause  of  his  grief,  and  having  learnt  it,  he  said,  "  O  let  not 
this  trouble  you,  good  father ;  for  whatever  may  become  of  me  here- 
after, 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  never   let  any  creature  enter  there  any  more  !"  You  must  not, 
it  was  again  said  to  her,  be  discouraged  if  the  Lord  should  not  pres- 
ently grant  your  request.     Remember  the  Canaanitish  woman.     Je- 
sus 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  dis- 
couraged, 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  patience  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  token  of  his  favor  in  this 
world ;  for  our  Lord  Jesus,  to  support  his  followers  under  such  in- 
ward darkness  and  trials,  was  pleased,  even  upon  the  cross,  to  suffer 
the  eclipse  of  the  light  of  his  Father's  countenance,  so  that  this  in- 
ward cross  of  spirit  was  more  painful  than  the  outward  one  ;  which 
made  him  cry  out,  "  My  God,  my  God,  why  hast  thou  forsaken  me  ?" 
If  he  who  knew  no  sin  yet  became  sin  for  us,  underwent  such  ago- 
nies to  bring  us  to  God,  why  should  we  think  it  strange  if  God  should 


240  MEMOIRS    OF 

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  Savior, 
was  this  thy  state ;  O  why  should  I  complain,  who  deserve  not  the 
least  favor  ?  Did  Jesus  on  the  cross  cry  out,  as  one  forsaken  of  his 
God,  and  shall  I  complain  at  wanting  the  sense  of  his  favor  ?  O  my 
God,  I  resign  myself  wholly  to  thee :  thy  will  be  done,  not  mine. 
Thou  canst  do  nothing  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 
departure  out  of  this  life ;  and  it  pleased  God  to  give  her  from  that 
time  a  more  quiet  resignation  to  his  will,  and  a  humble  hope  in  his  in- 
finite 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  vileness ;  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  taste,  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 
natural  emotion)  in  her,  and  not  a  true  settled  principle  of  religion, 
for  she  had  often  had  such  fits  of  devotion  before.  She  therefore 
begged  earnestly  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  bles- 
sing 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  in- 
dignation against  herself  on  account  of  them.  "  What  value  I,"  said 
she,  "  my  reputation  ?  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  for  my  sins."  There  were  two  sins  which 
she  especially  acknowledged  with  great  grief  and  indignation  against 
herself.  One  was,  the  misspending  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  married  to  her  husband,  their  circumstances 
were  but  mean  in  the  world  ;  yet  God  had  since  blessed  them  with  a 
plentiful  fortune,  and  that  she  had  not,  as  she  ought  to  have  done3 


THE    COUNTESS    OF    SEAFIELD.  241 

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  entreated,  that 
whoever  thought  themselves  wronged  by  her,  they  would  let  her 
know  it,  and  she  would  make  reparation  according  to  her  power. 
When  any  of  the  neighbors  came  into  the  room  where  she  was,  she 
would  ask  them  if  she  had  wronged  them  in  any  thing,  and  desired  to 
know  it,  that  she  might  repair  it.  She  called  for  some  written  obli- 
gations she  had  received  of  several  persons,  and  cancelled  them,  de- 
livering them  up  to  them. 

She  was  most  patient  in  her  trouble,  had  nothing  of  fretfulness,  but 
was  calm  and  easy  to  all  about  her.  She  refused  no  medicine  that 
was  offered  to  her,  however  disagreeable  to  the  taste,  and  although 
she  had  a  strong  aversion  to  all  drugs.  She  labored  in  every  thing 
to  deny  herself. 

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  ad- 
mission, 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  !"  She  said  she  loved  all  the  world,  all  man- 
kind, all  her  neighbors,  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  direct  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,  and  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  the  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  mis- 
tress of  the  family,  she  bid  her  labor  for  a  serious  and  compos- 
ed 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.  She  bid  her  also  be  kind  to  her  sister, 
as,  notwithstanding  the  badness  of  her  temper,  she  had  a  particular 
kindness  for  her.  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  wisdom  without 

31 


242  MEMOIRS    OF 

her  knowing  how :  and  this,  she  said,  she  had  proved  by  her  own 
experience.  To  the  Lady  Janet  she  said,  that  she  had  to  complain 
of  her  temper  as  stubborn  and  perverse.  She  charged  her  to  be- 
come 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  to  God  to  bless  him,  and  to  make  him  a 
good  man ;  and,  calling  for  his  tutor,  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  hermother,  who 
was  leaning  on  the  back  part  of  the  bed,  and  observing  her  very  sor- 
rowful, and  bitterly  lamenting  her  approachingdeath,  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  considera- 
ble emotion;  but,  recovering  herself,  she  said,  "What!  shall  the 
creature  yet  interpose  between  me  and  God  ?  Begone,  all  ye  crea- 
tures. 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  possession  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  meeting,  her  spirits  would  have 
been  in  such  a  commotion  that  she  would  have  fainted  away.  She 
was  afraid  lest  any  such  weakness  should  have  seized  her  now,  and 
therefore  still  lifted  up  her  heart  to  God,  begging  that  he  would  per- 
mit 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  dis- 
cover 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  stray- 
ing 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  be- 
ing." 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;  lam 
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  a  hospital 
for  the  maintenance  of  four  poor  widows,  of  good  reputation,  who 


THE    COUNTESS    OF    SEAFIELD.  243 

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  satis- 
faction. She  blessed  God,  who  had  disposed  him  to  consent  to  it 
so  readily.  She  was  in  great  hopes  that  her  husband,  through  the 
divine  grace,  should  become  truly  good,  which  she  earnestly  begged 
of  God  ;  and  to  this  end  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  re- 
garded the  love  of  God  as  the  essence  of  religion. 

Her  fever  increasing  much  at  night,  on  Thursday  night  she  could 
get  no  sleep,  and  so  fell  into  a  little  delirium.  After  a  time,  how- 
ever, she  fell  asleep,  and  awoke  free  from  any  delirium.  Express- 
ing the  sense  she  had  of  her  unworthiness  and  ingratitude  to  God,  a 
lady  who  was  present  said,  she  could  see  no  reason  why  she  should 
have  so  ill  an  opinion  of  herself,  as  all  who  knew  her  were  persuad- 
ed that  she  had  led  a  very  good  life.  To  this  she  replied,  that  that 
arose  from  their  not  knowing  her.  She  could  wish  that  all  might 
know  her  real  character,  and  might  learn,  from  her  example,  not  to 
defer  their  repentance,  but  to  turn  unto  God  while  in  health.  The 
same  lady  observing  that  she  had  great  reason  to  bless  God  who  had 
given  her  such  a  son,  she  replied,  that  she  did  bless  God  for  what  he 
was,  and  prayed  that  he  might  be  made  better,  and  not  to  be  as  those 
who  put  their  hand  to  the  plough  and  look  back  again.  While  she 
was  speaking  of  her  approaching  end,  and  that  it  was  now  not  far  off, 
her  mother  said,  she  hoped  she  might  still  recover.  She  answered, 
"  God  forbid  that  I  should  flatter  myself  by  thinking  either  that  1 
shall  live  long  in  this  world,  or  that  I  have  a  full  assurance  of  a  blessed 
eternity  ;  for  I  stand  I  know  not  how."  And  turning  to  her  younger 
sister  she  said,  "  O  Jane,  Jane,  be  wise  ;  deny  yourself,  take  up  your 
cross,  and  follow  Christ." 

That  night  she  caused  them  to  read  to  her  our  Savior's  farewell 
sermon,  and  then  said,  "  I  shall  shortly  bid  farewell  to  the  vanities 
of  the  world,  and  enjoy  him  whom  my  soul  loveth."  When  she 
awaked  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 


244  MEMOIRS   OF 

of  him,  and  that  he  would  inspire  her  with  his  holy  Spirit,  that,  nei- 
ther sleeping  nor  waking,  she  might  have  any  unholy  or  unprofitable 
thoughts. 

Friday  night,  the  fever  still  increasing,  she  fell  again  into  a  little 
delirium,  sleeping  none  that  night.  However,  in  the  morning  the 
delirium  left  her,  and  she  became  quite  composed.  She  had  before 
been  much  affected  with  the  parable  of  the  rich  man  and  Lazarus, 
and  was  sensible  that  God  did  not  always  bestow  on  those  he  most 
loved,  plenty  of  the  good  things  of  this  life,  and  that  she  had  not 
made  that  good  use  of  them  that  she  might  and  ought  to  have  done ; 
and  therefore,  thinking  that  the  meanest  things  were  too  good  for  her, 
she  desired  to  be  buried  in  the  meanest  manner  that  is  used  in  this 
country. 

In  the  afternoon,  her  fever  still  increasing,  she  was  seized  again 
with  a  slight  delirium.  During  its  continuance,  prayers  were  made 
for  her,  of  which  she  seemed  insensible.  A  little  time  after,  one 
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. 
It  was  thought  that  she  was  calling  for  the  young  infant ;  but  when 
brought  she  took  no  notice  of  him.  She  was  heard  to  say,  "  Come, 
shew  me  the  way."  One  present  reminded  her  that  Jesus  had  said, 
"  I  am  the  way,  the  truth,  and  the  life ;"  and  added,  that  He  was 
now  come  to  lead  her  to  the  Father,  and  to  guide  her  through  this 
dark  path.  And  then-he  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  Savior,  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 
ead  me  to  the  Father.     Heavenly  Father,  into  thy  merciful  arms  I 


TH3  COUNTESS  OF  SEAF1ELD.  245 

commend  my  spirit.  Amen."  With  these  words  she  closed  her 
eyes,  and  seemed  to  all  present  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  continued  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  admiration  ;  and  they  were  led  to 
think  that  God  had  been  pleased  to  grant  her  the  desire  of  her  heart, 
some  special  mark  of  his  favor,  in  her  passing  out  of  this  world,  and 
that  she  was  entered  into  the  joy  of  her  Lord. 

From  the  funeral  sermon  which  was  preached  on  the  occasion  of 
this  lady's  death,  I  shall  extract  a  few  concluding  observations. 

"  Adored  be  the  infinite  mercy  and  goodness  of  God  for  this  fresh 
instance  of  a  sinner  who  hath  caused  joy  in  heaven  by  true  penitence. 
She  was  a  great  ornament  to  her  family,  sex,  and  country  ;  a  virtuous 
woman,  whose  price  was  far  above  rubies ; — the  heart  of  whose 
husband  might  trust  in  her ; — who  looked  well  to  the  ways  of  her 
household,  and  ate  not  the  bread  of  idleness; — whose  children 
rise  up  and  call  her  blessed ;  her  husband  also,  and  he  praiseth 
her ; — who  was  not  vain  of  her  favor,  which  is  deceitful,  and  beau- 
ty, which  is  vain ;  but  truly  feared  the  Lord,  and  therefore  ought 
to  be  praised  ; — but  who,  especially  in  her  latter  years,  and  in  the 
last  days  of  her  life,  gave  such  evidences  of  a  truly  penitent  spir- 
it. She  then  felt  the  difference  between  that  virtue  which  has  a 
vain  shew  in  the  world,  and  yet  is  founded  too  much  on  self-love  and 
self-seeking ;  and  that  which  is  founded  on  a  deep  and  true  humility, 
divine  love,  and  self-contempt ; — between  a  heart  divided  between 
God  and  the  world,  and  a  heart  wholly  devoted  unto  God.  How 
much  did  she  abhor  herself!  How  profoundly  penitent  was  she  for 
her  sins !  How  was  her  heart  totally  weaned  from  this  world,  and 
wholly  resigned  unto  God  !  How  ardent  were  the  breathings  of  her 
soul  to  him  !  How  humble  was  her  hope  in  his  infinite  mercy  !  How 
often  did  she  say,  '  I  will  cast  myself  at  his  feet :  if  I  perish,  I  will 
perish  there  !'  And  what  an  earnest  had  we  of  her  blessed  acceptance 
with  her  heavenly  Father  and  Redeemer,  in  her  last  joyful  and  rap- 
turous breathing  out  of  her  spirit  into  the  hands  of  her  heavenly  Father! 
O  may  we  be  stirred  up  to  follow  such  a  blessed  example  of  true  peni- 
tence !  May  the  children  trace  this  path  of  their  excellent  mother  ! 
May  they  ever  remember  and  practice  her  last  dying  counsel !  May 
her  widowed  husband  give  joy  to  her  spirit,  by  being  united  to  her  in 
this  spirit  of  true  penitence  !  And  may  we  all  forsake  our  evil  ways 
and  unrighteous  thoughts,  and  turn  unto  the  Lord,  and  he  will  have 
mercy  upon  us,  even  to  our  God,  for  he  will  abundantly  pardon  ! 
Amen." 


246 


ELIZABETH  WEST. 


Though  this  woman,  who  was  born  in  Edinburgh  towards  the 
close  of  the  seventeenth  century,  moved  in  the  humble  sphere  of  a 
servant,  she  was  rich  with  respect  to  vital  religion,  a  star  of  the  first 
magnitude.  We  shall  give  some  extracts  from  her  diary,  which  dis- 
cover lively,  fervent  godliness.  The  style  is  plain  and  homely,  but 
the  matter  substantial  and  sweet. 

"  Though  I  cannot  tell  the  time  and  place,  when  and  where  the 
Lord  did  me  first  good ;  yet  this  I  know,  that  he  began  with  me  very 
early,  when  I  was  young  in  years,  to  incline  my  heart  to  seek  the 
Lord.  I  wanted  not  good  education  from  my  mother,  and  likewise 
from  my  aunt,  who  was  a  pious  woman  and  took  much  pains  on  me. 
When  I  was  conversing  with  my  comrades,  I  would  be  telling  them 
what  my  mother  was  saying  to  me,  that  if  I  were  good,  I  would 
get  to  heaven.  Now,  thought  I,  heaven  was  such  a  place,  where  I 
should  get  fine  clothes,  and  every  thing  that  was  excellent. 

"  This  so  allured  me,  that  I  could  have  been  content  to  do  any 
thing  to  get  to  heaven  :  I  resolved  I  would  neither  swear  nor  lie,  nor 
do  any  thing  that  was  ill;  but  I  would  pray  and  seek  the  Lord,  then 
I  would  be  sure  to  get  to  heaven  ;  yet  I  found  a  strong  inclination  in 
my  heart  to  break  all  my  resolutions :  for,  the  first  temptation  that 
came  in  my  way  to  sin,  I  embraced  it  cheerfully.  I  was  extraordi- 
narily given  to  play  of  all  sorts,  which  took  my  heart  wholly  up,  so 
that  I  thought  it  a  melancholy  thing  to  be  religious ;  but  when  I  had 
gone  to  my  bed  I  would  think,  what  if  I  go  to  hell,  where  I  shall 
never  come  out  ?  That  word  never  wrought  strongly  on  me  :  but  the 
remedy  I  took  to  still  my  conscience  was,  I  would  say  my  prayers  1 
learned  at  the  school ;  then  I  was  well  enough.  I  cannot  distinctly 
give  an  account  how  1  spent  my  time  :  for  some  years  I  satisfied  my- 
self with  the  Pharisee's  religion,  that  1  was  not  so  bad  as  others  ; 
but,  in  the  Lord's  own  time,  when  he  was  pleased  to  send  the  gospel 
among  us  at  the  Revolution,  then  I  began  more  seriously  to  seek  the 
Lord  ;  I  left  off  my  form  of  prayer,  and  betook  me  to  another  way, 
which  I  thought  would  please  God  better.  I  was  for  a  considerable 
time  under  the  ministry  of  Mr.  William  Erskine  :  all  that  I  can  ob- 
serve, during  the  time  he  preached  among  us,  was,  that  I  attained  to 
a  great  delight  in  hearing  the  word,  which  wrought  upon  my  affec- 
tions, that  I  durst  not  neglect  secret  prayer ;  where  sometimes  I 
would  be  very  tender,  and  shed  some  tears,  then  I  thought  there 
was  no  doubt  but  I  was  converted.  It  pleased  the  Lord  soon  to  re- 
move Mr.  William  Erskine. 


MEMOIRS,    &£C.  247 

"  Then  I  frequently  heard  Mr.  James  Kirkton  with  a  great  deal  of 
delight ;  for  his  sermons  were  very  taking,  and  I  had  a  good  memo- 
ry ;  so  gained  applause  with  those  among  whom  I  conversed.  This 
pleased  me  extremely,  though  I  knew  never  what  it  was  to  make  ap- 
plication of  any  thing  I  heard.  O  how  great  reason  have  1  to  ad- 
mire the  goodness  of  the  Lord,  that  did  not  send  me  to  the  pit  in 
this  selfish  condition  !  seeking  justification  by  works,  never  remem- 
bering what  1  was  by  nature.  Jn  this  case  I  remained  until  it  plea- 
sed the  Lord  to  send  Mr.  George  Meldrum  to  be  our  minister,  in 
place  of  Mr.  William  Erskine,  who  was  the  Lord's  messenger  to  me 
indeed  :  the  first  time  I  heard  him,  I  thought  I  felt  something  I  never 
felt  before,  but  knew  not  what  it  was :  that  word  was  made  out 
to  me,  Hos.  xi.  1,2,  3.  He  preached  on  these  words,  Joshua, 
xxiv.  15.  '  Choose  you  this  day  whom  ye  will  serve.' — Where  he 
besought  us  earnestly,  with  tears,  that  we  should  choose  presently, 
whom  we  should  serve.  He  said, '  Many  will  say,  I  will  do  that  after- 
wards; but  few  will  say,  I  will  choose  presently.'  He  protested  he 
would  not  go  out  of  the  pulpit  till  we  would  give  our  consent  presently  to 
the  bargain  without  delay.  If  I  rightly  remember,  this  was  the  first 
time  that  ever  I  could  observe  the  Lord  speaking  to  me  in  public. 
At  this  time  I  thought  the  Lord  made  me  willing  in  a  day  of  his  pow- 
er to  choose  and  consent  to  serve  the  Lord.  O  that  I  may  never  for- 
get this  day ! 

"  After  this,  I  found  corruption  begin  to  stir  in  me ;  but,  whatever 
troubled  me,  I  got  it  spoken  to  on  the  Sabbath  day,  which  struck 
me  with  wonder.  I  several  times  resorted  to  Mr.  Meldrum  and  told 
him  my  case,  (though  very  confusedly) :  his  converse  to  me  was  both 
meek  and  comfortable  ;  but,  particularly,  he  exhorted  me  to  keep  a 
record  of  all  the  Lord's  dealings  with  my  soul,  if  I  could  write.  I 
thought  this  a  strange  command  ;  but  I  heard  the  same  exhortation 
from  Mr.  John  Flint,  at  Lasswade,  on  these  words,  Isa.  xliv.  5, 
'  One  shall  say,  I  am  the  Lord's :  and  another  shall  call  himself  by 
the  name  of  Jacob ;  and  another  shall  subscribe  with  his  hand  unto 
the  Lord.'  This  being  on  a  communion  Sabbath,  he  exhorted  every 
one  to  write  with  their  hands  to  be  the  Lord's.  I  would  fain  have 
put  this  exhortation  in  practice,  but  knew  not  how  to  begin  ;  it  being 
presently  before  the  Sacrament  in  Edinburgh,  which  was  the  first  af- 
ter the  Revolution,  and  the  first  ever  I  was  partaker  of. 
.  "December  25,  1694. — As  all  the  Lord's  ways  with  me  have 
been  as  so  many  wonders,  so  I  think  it  my  duty  to  record  one  dispen- 
sation of  Providence  which  I  met  with  this  night ;  and  in  so  doing, 
O  that  I  were  as  a  beacon  set  up,  that  others  may  be  aware  of  these 
rocks  on  which  I  had  almost  split,  if  God  had  not  prevented  it;  This 
night  I  was  sitting  alone,  thinking  on  a  sermon  which  I  had  heard, 
and  of  three  remarkable  observations,  from  Matt.  viii.  31,   32. 

"  The  first  was  :  The  devil  will  take  little  before  he  wants  all ;  he 
lost  the  man,  he  is  content  with  the  swine.     The  second  is  :  They 


248  MEMOIRS  OF 

run  fast  that  the  devil  drives.  The  third  :  The  devil  brings  all  his 
hogs  to  an  ill  market,  they  ran  violently,  and  perished  in  the  waters. 
In  the  mean  time,  when  I  was  thinking  on  these  observations,  I  for- 
got one  of  them  ;  I  desired  that  God  would  bring  it  to  my  memory 
again,  which  was  not  granted  to  me  presently.  Immediately  I  was 
tempted  to  atheism,  and  that  strongly ;  the  temptation  was  this,  there 
is  no  God  :  it  is  a  vain  thing  to  believe  in  Christ.  And  this  was 
pressed  on  me  by  arguments  of  such  a  nature,  that  it  is  not  conven- 
ient to  record.  This  temptation  struck  in  me  a  strange  consternation 
what  to  do.  If  there  be  no  God,  from  whence  proceedeth  my  being? 
In  this  desperate  case  I  went  to  prayer,  crying,  What  shall  I  do, 
what  shall  I  do,  O  Maker  of  heaven  and  earth  ?  I  am  in  a  great  strait 
about  thy  being  :  once  I  thought  that  thou  wast  the  God  of  my  sal- 
vation ;  but  now  it  seems  that  all  has  been  in  vain.  But  while  I  was 
on  my  knees,  musing  like  one  out  of  their  senses,  drowned  in  the 
deeps  of  unbelief;  then  did  the  Lord  step  to  my  help,  and  had  pity 
on  me  when  he  saw  me  sinking.  Yea,  he  took  not  advantage  of  my 
weakness  to  destroy  me  ;  but  he  let  his  power  appear  in  holding  me 
up.  He  brought  the  observation  to  my  memory  which  I  forgot ;  and 
then  he  convinced  me  of  my  sins,  which  filled  me  with  wonder  and 
admiration.  What!  might  not  the  Lord  have  thrown  me  into  hell 
for  entertaining  such  hellish  thoughts  ?  Then  I  betook  myself  to  God 
by  prayer,  that  for  Christ's  sake  he  would  pardon  my  sin  of  enter- 
taining such  a  sinful  temptation.  O  but  the  Lord  was  condescending 
to  me  ;  for  he  surprised  me  with  his  presence ;  I  got  a  new  confirma- 
tion of  my  interest  in  Christ,  and  was  made  to  plead  the  promise  that 
he  was  my  God,  and  my  King,  and  my  Redeemer.  I  dare  say  it,  as 
in  his  sight,  I  never  experienced  a  sweeter  time  than  this  was.  It 
well  becomes  me  to  record  it,  both  for  my  own  comfort  and  the 
good  of  others.  O  that  I  could  praise  the  Lord  in  my  conversation, 
and  that  from  this  time  I  might  be  set  apart  to  serve  the  Lord  for 
ever  and  ever !  This  was  the  strongest  assault  that  ever  I  met  with  ; 
but  glory,  glory  to  God  the  Father  (the  offended,)  to  God  the  Son 
(who  was  in  the  offender's  stead,)  to  God  the  Holy  Ghost  who 
strengthened  me  with  strength,  so  that  Satan  got  not  his  will  of  me 
this  night,  though  it  was  the  beginning  of  sorrow  to  me  indeed,  for 
this  battle  of  atheism  began  this  night,  yet  I  seemed  to  get  some 
victory  over  it ;  but  I  found  the  remainders  to  lie  still  in  my  bosom 
ready  upon  every  temptation  to  break  forth.  After  this  I  fell  into  an 
extraordinary  deadness  of  spirit ;  I  was  sensibly  deserted  ;  I  wist  not 
what  to  do ;  I  could  tell  my  case  to  none,  it  was  so  extraordinary : 
I  had  some  Christian  comrades  with  whom  I  frequently  conversed  to 
my  great  satisfaction  ;  but  I  could  find  none  of  them  in  my  case, 
which  made  me  bemoan  the  more. 

"January  1,  1695. — I  was  with  them  in  the  morning,  when  they 
were  conversing  about  the  love  of  Christ :  this  wrought  a  strong  de- 
sire in  me  again  to  know  more  of  this  Jesus.     Alas  !    I  was  perfect- 


ELIZABETH    WEST.  249 

\y  ignorant ;  I  came  home,  but  O  I  would  fain  have  been  at  Christ's 
school  to  learn  the  first  lesson  of  religion ;  for  I  thought  I  was  noth- 
ing but  a  hypocrite,  and  that  all  the  promises  I  had  got  were  but 
upon  condition  that  I  should  walk  up  according  to  my  receipt  of  mer- 
cies ;  and,  as  far  as  I  came  short,  the  promises  were  not  to  be  made 
out  to  me ;  then  that  word  came  in  mind,  where  Moses  was  reprov- 
ing the  chiding  of  the  children  of  Israel,  he  tells  them  from  the  Lord, 
'  That  because  they  had  not  walked  in  the  ways  of  the  Lord,  there- 
fore they  should  know  his  breach  of  promise.'  Then  I  thought  this 
message  was  expressly  to  me,  which  increased  my  trouble ;  think- 
ing now,  God  is  at  enmity  with  me,  none  of  the  promises  belong  to 
me.  In  this  case  I  remained  till  the  12th  day,  being  Saturday ;  at 
night  I  went  to  prayer,  but  very  sadly  lamenting  my  condition,  and 
crying,  O  for  another  offer  of  a  reconciled  God  in  Christ,  I  would 
give  all  the  world  !  Upon  the  morrow,  being  the  Sabbath,  our  min- 
ister, Mr.  George  Meldrum,  took  that  text,  Col.  i.  21.  '  And  you 
who  were  sometime  enemies  in  your  minds  by  wicked  works,  yet 
now  hath  he  reconciled.'  Where  indeed  I  had  a  Christ  freely  offered 
to  me ;  and  he  told  us,  that  God  had  sent  him  with  this  message,  we 
then  as  ambassadors  for  Christ,  as  though  God  did  beseech  you  by 
us,  we  pray  you  in  Christ's  stead,  be  ye  reconciled  to  God.  I  must 
confess,  this  minister  was  many  times  God's  messenger  to  me,  but 
especially  this  day  :  it  was  my  duty  to  love  and  pray  for  him,  that 
his  Master's  message  may  prosper  in  all  places  where  he  shall  be 
sent.  He  delighted  in  nothing  but  in  preaching  Christ,  and  him  cru- 
cified. If  my  heart  deceived  me  not,  I  thought  I  got  favor  with  God 
this  night,  and  that  very  comfortably ;  but,  alas !  it  was  but  a  blink 
before  a  shower.  Then  the  tempter  came  on  me  again,  to  make  me 
misbelieve,  and  that  I  was  mistaken  about  favor  with  God,  for  all  that 
I  had  met  with  was  but  mere  delusion  ;  for  I  was  still  ignorant ;  and 
that  which  grieved  me  was  my  sin  that  I  lived  under  such  a  clear 
gospel-ministry.  O  !  my  ignorance  of  God  and  Christ  stared  me  in 
the  face  in  such  a  manner,  that  it  made  me  cry,  I  am  undone !  I 
have  been  born  to  be  a  monument  of  his  displeasure  !  O  what  shall 
I  do  !  God  has  forsaken  me  !  O  that  I  had  never  been  born !  for  I 
get  no  leave  to  come  to  God  in  prayer  as  I  was  wont.  Then  1  began 
to  debate  myself  out  of  Christ  by  many  arguments  which  are  not  con- 
venient to  name,  but  especially  that  I  was  but  an  outside  Christian, 
for  I  had  nothing  but  a  bare  profession ;  indeed  I  had  show  enough, 
and  name  enough,  and  tongue  enough ;  but  the  inwards  of  religion  I 
wanted  :  I  was  like  a  body  without  a  soul.  I  saw  myself  lost  and 
undone  ;  but,  which  was  worst  of  all,  it  did  not  affect  me  as  it  would 
have  done  another ;  some  would  not  have  slept  a  sound  sleep,  but 
as  for  me  it  never  had  that  effect  on  me.  Notwithstanding  all  this, 
I  saw  much  of  God's  love  to  me  ;  in  this  especially,  that  whatever 
troubled  me  through  the  week,  Mr.  Meldrum  spoke  suitably  on  the 
Sabbath,  which  struck  me  with  admiration  ;  for  if  I  had  told  my  case 

32 


250  MEMOIRS  0¥ 

to  him  or  any  other,  I  should  have  thought  he  had  got  notice  of  me 
some  way,  but  I  revealed  my  mind  to  none  :  so  that  I  saw  it  was  the 
Spirit  of  God  speaking  to  me  by  him.  O  how  sweet  and  refreshing  I 
found  the  Sabbath-days ! 

"Edinburgh,  April  14,  1695. — Being  the  Sabbath-day. — I  may 
remember  this  day  with  wonder  and  praise.  In  the  morning,  when 
I  was  at  secret  prayer,  I  got  near  access  to  the  throne  of  grace,  and 
poured  out  my  heart  before  the  Lord  with  a  great  deal  of  sweetness 
and  composure  of  spirit :  then  that  word  was  brought  to  my  mind, 
Deut.  xvi.  1.  '  Observe  the  month  of  Abib  ;  for  in  the  month  Abib 
the  Lord  brought  you  out  of  the  land  of  Egypt.'  This  word  was  very 
suitable  to  my  present  circumstance,  and  I  was  helped  to  make  ap- 
plication. 

"  After  this  I  came  to  the  place  of  public  worship,  where  that  ser- 
vant of  Christ,  Mr.  George  Meldrum,  preached  on  Rev.  iii.  20. 
'  Behold  I  stand  at  the  door  and  knock ;  if  any  man  will  hear  my 
voice,  and  open  the  door,  I  will  come  in  and  sup  with  him,  and  he 
with  me.'     He  observed  these  four  things  from  the  words. 

"  First,  That,  by  nature,  we  were  all  holding  Christ  at  the  door, 
and  would  not  let  him  in.  2dly,  That  it  was  Christ's  work  to  stand 
and  knock,  though  we  were  obstinate  in  keeping  the  door  fast.  3dly, 
That  many  unkind  answers  we  give  him,  and  yet  he  takes  not  the 
first  refusal.  4thly,  That  he  is  yet  willing  to  make  a  new  offer  to  all 
that  will  accept  of  him  on  his  own  terms.  My  memory  cannot  serve 
me  to  set  down  every  word  he  spoke  distinctly ;  but  this  I  am  sure, 
I  thought  he  told  me  every  thing  that  I  did  or  thought ;  how  I  had 
kept  Christ  at  the  door  with  my  unholy  carriage  and  deportment.  I 
thought  nothing,  but  that  I  should  burst  within  myself  the  time  1  was 
hearing,  it  touched  my  case  so  near.  This  was  a  day  of  power  to 
me  indeed,  as  ever  I  felt. 

"  It  pleased  the  Lord  to  give  me  another  occasion  of  renewing  my 
former  engagements,  which  were  dreadfully  broken  on  my  part.  I 
saw  that  I  could  not  walk  with  the  Lord ;  therefore  I  must  not  let 
any  opportunity  pass  of  giving  myself  to  the  Lord.  I  also  was  at  the 
time  laboring  under  the  power  of  a  body  of  sin  and  death,  and  saw  no 
remedy  but  in  Christ. 

"  There  was  word  of  a  communion  at  Prestonpans ;  at  the  hear- 
ing of  which  there  arose  a  vehement  desire  in  my  heart  to  be  there, 
having  experienced  the  manifestations  of  his  presence  formerly.  I 
was  persuaded  I  had  the  Lord's  call  to  go  there,  from  these  two 
scriptures ;  '  Seek  and  ye  shall  find,  knock  and  it  shall  be  opened 
unto  you.'  The  other  was,  '  Follow  the  Lamb  whithersoever  he  go- 
eth.'  I  met  with  some  oppositions,  which  had  a  tendency  to  hinder 
me  to  go  there ;  but  the  Lord  overcame  them  all.  I  cannot  but  re- 
mark two  of  these  hindrances  :  in  the  first  place,  I  had  a  tooth-ache, 
which  distressed  me  mightily.  There  was  none  that  thought  I  would 
be  so  cruel  to  myself  as  to  adventure  on  such  a  journey  to-morrow, 


ELIZABETH    WEST.  251 

and  yet  I  was  firmly  resolved  I  would  be  there.  The  other  hinder- 
ance  was,  that  the  weather  was  extraordinarily  boisterous,  with  great 
rains,  terrible  winds,  and  thunder ;  so  that  I  thought  the  house  would 
have  been  blown  down  about  me  that  night. 

11  On  the  morrow,  when  I  awaked,  the  pain  of  my  tooth  was  quite 
gone  from  me,  which  I  reckoned  no  small  mercy  ;  but  still  the  wind 
continued  loud  and  bitter,  which  made  all  the  family  plead  with  me 
to  forbear  my  going  there,  but  I  gave  a  deaf  ear  to  them  all,  and 
away  I  came  to  Prestonpans.  When  I  met  with  the  poor  women, 
with  their  burdens  of  coals  and  salt  on  their  backs,  coming  to  the 
market  at  Edinburgh,  then  I  thought  the  badness  of  the  weather  does 
not  hinder  these  from  their  earthly  market :  O  what  a  fool  would  I 
have  been,  if  any  thing  should  have  hindered  me  from  the  heavenly 
market! 

"  When  I  came  to  the  place,  O  how  sweet  and  refreshing  were 
these  Saturday's  sermons  to  me!  Mr.  John  Moncrief  was  on  Exod. 
xx.  24.  'In  all  places  where  I  record  my  name,  I  will  come  unto 
thee,  and  bless  thee.'  He  observed,  that  ordinances  were  the  trys- 
ting-places  between  Christ  and  his  people  :  and  whoever  there  was 
that  had  been  trysting  Christ  to  come  to  this  communion,  if  they  were 
come  to  keep  the  tryst  on  their  part,  he  was  also  come  to  keep  it  on 
his  part. 

"When  the  minister  came  to  serve  the  first  table  he  said,  'What 
is  thy  request,  queen  Esther,  and  it  shall  be  granted  thee?'  O  then, 
my  heart  cried  out,  my  request  is,  that  the  Savior's  image  may  be 
stamped  on  my  heart  presently.  Come,  Lord,  here  is  a  temple  for 
thee  to  dwell  in,  such  as  it  is  ;  but  do  thou  to  it  as  thou  did  to  the  tem- 
ple, whip  out  all  buyers  and  sellers,  and  every  thing  that  defileth  it. 
I  have  great  idols  unmodified ;  corruptions,  which,  Haman-like, 
strive  to  overcome  me.  O  make  me  more  holy  than  ever  I  was  be- 
fore, that  the  image  of  my  Lord  may  appear  in  my  converse  with 
others  in  the  world  ! 

"  Let  me  have  as  near  a  conformity  to  thee  as  ever  any  attained 
to.  I  this  day  request  for  more  light  in  reading  thy  holy  word  ;  for 
as  yet  it  is  the  darkest  book  I  ever  read  upon.  I  also  request  for  my 
poor  parents,  as  formerly,  and  all  my  Christian  acquaintances,  min- 
isters and  people,  and  for  our  land  in  general :  and  that  the  gospel 
may  never  depart  from  Scotland.  Come  purge  thy  house  of  every 
thing  that  hinders  thy  appearance  among  the  golden  candlesticks. 
O  Lord  grant  me  greater  degress  of  humility,  both  outward  and  in- 
ward ;  for  I  find  my  self-conceit  sometimes  like  to  overcome  me.  I 
here  this  day  promise,  as  in  thy  sight,  to  stand  to  thy  interest,  though 
persecution  should  arise  ;  and  to  lay  down  my  life,  if  thou  call  for  it. 
Come,  Lord,  tie  both  me  and  my  resolutions  to  thyself  fast,  and  I 
slide  not  back  in  trying  times,  and  be  not  like  that  son,  that  said,  '  He 
would  go  to  work  in  the  vineyards,  but  went  not.'  I  must  confess  to 
the  glory  of  God,  I  got  great  liberty  in  seeking  all  these  things,  both 
in  public  and  secret. 


252  MEMOIRS  OF 

"  O  but  it  was  a  comfortable  day  to  me,  wherein  my  interest  in 
Christ  was  as  visible  to  me,  as  if  it  had  been  written  in  golden  letters 
before  my  eyes  !  It  is  impossible  for  the  tongues  of  men  or  angels  to 
declare  the  joy  and  comfort  I  experienced,  and  wherein  I  gave  my- 
self to  the  Lord ;  and  in  testimony  hereof  I  take  myself  to  witness, 
and  all  in  heaven  and  earth,  that  I  am  not  my  own,  but  the  Lord's." 
Written  and  subscribed  at  Prestonpans,  October  9,  1697. 

"  The  next  sacramental  occasion  I  heard  of  was  at  Largo  in  Fife. 
I  met  with  oppositions  from  without  to  hinder  me  to  go  ;  but  they 
were  no  more  to  me  than  the  blowing  of  a  feather  in  the  air  ;  for  to 
Largo  I  must  go.  Another  and  I  took  our  journey  on  Friday  morn- 
ing, and  the  way  was  very  pleasant,  for  the  Lord  helped  us  to  suit- 
able converse,  inquiring  at  one  another,  what  our  errand  was  at 
Largo  ? 

"  On  Saturday  morning  when  we  came  to  the  place,  Mr.  John 
Moncrief  was  on  these  words,  Zech.  ix.  9.  "  Behold  thy  King  Com- 
eth unto  thee.' 

"  Then  Mr.  George  Hamilton  spoke  on  these  words,  Col.  ii.  6. 
c  As  ye  have  received  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  so  walk  ye  in  him.'  As 
the  one  was  telling  us  '  the  King  was  coming  ;'  so  the  other  exhorted 
us  i  to  receive  him  :'  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  bearing  witness  with  them 
both,  that  they  were  sent  expressly  from  their  Master,  Christ. 

"  On  Sabbath  morning  the  tempter  was  not  idle  with  me,  to  dis- 
courage and  disquiet  my  spirit,  and  began  to  suggest,  whether  it  was 
my  duty  to  communicrtte  or  not  ?  I  answered,  I  was  persuaded  it  was 
my  duty,  for  I  got  a  sharp  reproof  last  communion  1  was  at,  and  did 
not  partake.  But  did  the  devil  leave  me  so  ?  No,  no ;  he  took 
another  way  with  me ;  for  it  was  against  his  will  I  should  communicate 
that  day ;  he  wakened  up  all  the  devils  and  corruptions  of  my  heart ; 
and  when  I  saw  them,  I  presently  concluded  I  would  not  communi- 
cate that  day :  and  as  for  my  unbelief,  it  mastered  me  to  such  a  de- 
gree, that  1  could  believe  nothing,  I  was  so  struck  with  stupidity. 
Mr.  William  Moncrief,  who  was  the  minister  of  that  parish,  (it  being 
the  first  communion  that  was  given  there,)  being  on  Matt.  xxii. 
'  Come  to  the  marriage  ;  for  all  things  are  ready  ;'  in  the  time  he  was 
delivering  these  great  truths  (and  wonderful  and  large  were  the  offers 
he  made  of  King  Christ  that  day)  there  arose  the  greatest  frame 
upon  the  spirits  of  the  people  that  ever  my  ears  heard  or  eyes  saw  : 
notwithstanding  of  all  this  I  remained  a  stupid,  hard  hearted  creature, 
and  still  the  temptation  ran  with  me,  it  is  not  true  the  minister  is  say- 
ing ;  and  many  such  suggestions  were  whispered  in  my  ears  by  the 
tempter. 

"  When  he  came  to  fence  the  table,  I  thought  he  cut  me  off;  for 
there  was  not  one  sin  he  mentioned  but  that  I  was  guilty  of  it ;  yet 
there  was  a  secret  word  borne  in  on  me, '  This  is  the  voice  of  my  be- 
loved.' But  how  shall  I  testify  what  a  change  was  wrought  in  a  mo- 
ment ?  And  O  that  my  recording  this  were  for  the  glory  of  God,  and 


ELIZABETH    WEST.  253 

the  edification  of  those  that  hear  of  it !  how  the  Lord  suddenly  sur- 
prised me,  when  I  was  not  thinking  on  it,  so  that  1  was  never  so  sen- 
sible of  an  immediate  call  from   the  Spirit  of  God,  as  at  this  time. 

"  When  the  minister  had  declared  faithfully  who  were  not  worthy 
to  come  to  his  Master's  table,  then  he  came  to  open  his  commission, 
whom  his  Master  had  warranted  him  to  call  in  ;  in  which  number  ] 
was,  for  I  heard  my  name  and  surname  there,  and  was  persuaded  of 
it,  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord  bearing  witness  with  my  spirit  to  the  call, 
so  as  it  could  not  be  resisted.  And  that  word  came  with  force  and 
power,  '  Now  this  is  the  voice  of  my  beloved  ;  Arise,  my  love,  my 
fair  one,  and  come  away.'  With  that  there  arose  such  a  vehement 
desire  in  my  heart  to  be  at  Christ,  that  I  had  no  patience,  but  to  the 
first  table  I  went,  where  immediately  that  word  came,  '  I  in  you,  and 
you  in  me,  as  the  branches  are  in  the  tree.'  What  a  frame  of  spirit  J 
was  in  is  better  felt  than  told;  where  my  vehement  desire  was,  that 
the  Lord  might  imprint  his  image  on  my  heart,  and  that  the  Holy 
Spirit  might  take  up  an  everlasting  abode  with  me,  and  that  I  might 
have  sympathy  with  the  church  in  all  her  distresses. 

"  I  cannot  but  set  down  some  of  the  words  Mr.  John  Moncrief  had 
at  the  table  he  served  :  he  said,  '  Communicants,  what  hath  made  all 
this  weeping  among  you  to-day  ?  O  say  some,  we  are  weeping  with 
Mary,  because  of  an  absent  Christ.  Is  this  the  cause  of  thy  weep- 
ing, poor  soul  ?  I  shall  tell  thee,  may  be  ye  shall  meet  with  Mary's 
comfort :  Jesus  may  be  nearer  thee  than  thou  knowest  of;  when  she 
thought  her  Lord  was  gone,  he  says,  Mary  ;  and  presently  she  was 
comforted  :  Rabboni !  Is  this  my  Lord  ?  O,  but  says  another,  I  am 
weeping  with  Peter,  because  I  have  denied  him.  Well,  let  me  say 
this  to  you,  may  be  it  shall  fare  with  thee  as  it  did  with  Peter  :  Christ 
says  to  Mary,  go  tell  my  disciples,  and  Peter  that  I  am  risen.  Poor 
mourning  Peter,  he  must  be  comforted.  But  says  another,  I  am 
weeping  with  Christ  himself  at  Lazarus's  grave  for  love ;  the  love  of 
Christ  makes  me  weep.  If  it  be  so,  may  not  I  then  say  of  you,  as 
the  Jews  said  of  Christ,  Behold  how  the  folks  of  Largo  love  Christ 
to-day  !' 

"  Edinhvrgh,  September  11,  1698. — O  Lord,  this  day  being  set 
apart  for  humiliation  and  supplication,  I  desire  to  join  with  the  rest, 
to  humble  myself  under  the  sense  of  my  own  provocations,  that  I 
have  had  a  hand  in  provoking  thee  to  lay  the  land  desolate.  There- 
fore, great  Lord,  though  thou  make  me  to  perish  in  the  common  ca- 
lamity, 1  must  acknowledge  thou  art  right,  for  I  have  sinned.  Also 
I  desire  to  be  humbled  under  the  sense  of  the  family  sins  in  which  1 
live  ;  and  that  because  thou  art  not  worshipped  in  it  by  my  parents 
as  thou  oughtest  to  be  :  therefore,  although  thou  arise  in  particular 
against  us  with  visible  judgments,  '  thou  art  righteous,  O  Lord.'  Al- 
so I  desire  to  be  humbled  under  the  land's  sins ;  for  from  the 
highest  to  the  lowest,  all  flesh  hath  sinned,  and  made  public  defec- 
tion from    thy  ways  ;  and  especially  in  breach  of  solemn  covenam. 


254  MEMOIRS    OF 

which  was  the  glory  of  our  land,  and  in  shedding  the  blood  of  the 
saints  ;  for  which  we  have  all  reason  to  mourn  :  by  this  thou  hast 
been  provoked,  and  that  justly,  to  send  dreadful  plagues  among  us. 
I  desire  to  be  humbled  for  the  sins  of  the  real  godly  amongst  us ;  and 
that  because  they  are  not  adorners  of  religion,  neither  are  we  bring- 
ing forth  fruit  suitable  to  the  pains  taken  on  us;  but  thy  way  is  evil 
spoken  of  by  the  wicked,  when  they  see  among  the  people  of  God  so 
much  pride,  passion,  and  worldly-mindedness,  selfishness,  division, 
and  many  other  evils;  therefore,  O  Lord,  just  art  thou,  though  thou 
shouldest  proclaim  over  us,  what  thou  proclaimedst  over  the  barren 
vineyard,  Isa.  v.  Now,  O  Lord,  justly  art  thou  contending  with 
all  of  us  :  yet  let  me  supplicate  thy  throne  this  day,  in  the  name,  and 
for  the  sake  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  with  whom  I  entered  into  cov- 
enant last  Lord's  day,  at  Prestonpans,  that  the  judgments  thou  art 
threatening  by  thy  servants,  and  by  thy  providential  dispensations, 
may  be  done  away  :  nevertheless,  if  it  seem  thee  good  to  bring  them 
on  us,  O  Lord,  fit  and  make  us  ready  for  them  ;  give  us  strength  to 
bear  the  burden,  that  we  do  not  apostatize  and  fall  away  when  the  tri- 
al comes.  I  supplicate  this  day,  that  if  thou  send  thy  sore  judgments 
among  us,  that  they  may  be  mixed  with  mercy;  if  thou  send  famine 
among  us,  and  break  the  staff  of  bread,  then,  Lord,  give  thy  Holy 
Spirit  unto  us,  that  we  may  learn  to  feed  by  faith  on  the  bread  of 
life.  Or,  if  thou  send  the  sword  among  us,  with  a  cruel  enemy  to 
avenge  thy  quarrel ;  then,  Lord,  grant  that  we  may  stand  stedfast 
and  faithful  to  thy  cause  and  interest,  that  we  may  not  turn  aside 
for  their  threatenings.  I  here  this  day  give  myself  to  thee  :  my  life, 
my  name,  my  natural  enjoyments,  if  thou  shalt  call  for  them  :  only 
make  my  call  clear,  that  I  be  not  confused  when  the  trial  comes. 
And  then,  if  thou  give  strength,  I  am  content,  though  thou  call  me  to 
a  gibbet,  or  a  stake  to  be  burnt,  or  any  other  way  thou  seest  meet  to 
try  me  with :  here  I  am,  do  with  me  what  thou  pleasest.  I  have 
sinned,  be  thou  glorified,  and  let  me  enjoy  thee  for  ever,  is  all  my 
desire.  Or  if  thou  shalt  send  that  sore  judgment  of  pestilence 
among  us,  then  be  thou  our  Physician  to  heal  all  our  diseases,  espe- 
cially spiritual  ones :  only,  Lord,  whatever  be  the  rod  thou  art  go- 
ing to  lay  upon  us,  come  with  it  thyself,  and  then  welcome,  welcome 
is  the  cross,  in  whatever  sort  it  be.  Now,  O  Lord,  give  me  the  vic- 
tory over  myself,  this  weary  body  of  sin  and  death,  which  holds  me 
daily  in  spiritual  bondage;  there  is  no  enemy  or  judgment  I  am  so 
afraid  of,  as  this  woful  natural  disposition  of  mine  to  all  things  con- 
trary to  thy  holy  law.  O  let  my  sinful,  selfish  nature,  from  this  day, 
be  like  the  house  of  Saul,  growing  weaker  and  weaker ;  and  let  the 
new  nature,  which  belongs  to  thee,  be  like  the  house  of  David, 
stronger  and  stronger ;  so  that  I  may  be  strengthened  to  carry  the 
cross  cheerfully,  rejoicing  and  unweariedly,  when  thou  callest  me  to 
it.  Let  not  my  resolutions  be  like  that  man's,  who  came  to  Christ 
and  would  do  any  thing  to  be  saved  ;  and  yet,  when  the  cross  was 


ELIZABETH    WEST.  255 

spoken  of,  he  went  away  sorrowful ;  but  I  lay  my  resolutions  in  thy 
hand,  to  keep  them  for  me  against  the  time  of  need,  acknowledging 
my  own  weakness,  for  I  have  neither  strength  nor  will  to  do  any  thing  ; 
but  I  have  chosen  thee  for  my  all,  and  in  all,  from  this  time  forth, 
and  for  ever  ;  so  let  it  be.     Amen. 

"  O  Lord,  thou  knowest  my  requests  this  day,  and  at  other  times, 
put  up  for  my  father,  that  thou  wouldest  work  a  second  conversion  on 
his  spirit,  that  may  send  him  to  Jesus  ;  for  I  am  afraid  that  to  this  day 
he  is  sleeping  in  a  very  dangerous  condition  ;  but  yet  I  believe,  that 
thou  hast  put  words  in  my  mouth  for  him,  so  I  hope  against  hope. 
As  also  for  my  mother,  that  if  thou  hast  begun  the  good  work  in  herf 
let  it  appear  in  her  conversation,  in  changing  her  affection  from  things 
below,  and  setting  them  on  things  above.  As  also  for  my  brother, 
that  a  work  of  grace  may  thrive  in  him  :  Lord,  let  him  see  the  folly 
of  spending  so  much  time  in  seeking  this  world's  trash,  and  set  him 
more  in  seeking  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  I  commit  them  all  to  thee, 
do  with  them  as  seems  thee  good  ;  only  be  thou  glorified.  As  also, 
for  thy  glory's  sake,  remember  this  sinful  church  and  nation ;  and 
when  thou  comest  with  thy  sore  judgments,  let  them  be  for  purging 
and  purifying  both  ministers  and  people,  that  they  may  come  out  of 
the  furnace  all  glorious,  that  other  nations  may  see  thou  lovest  to 
dwell  in  thy  covenanted  Scotland.  Now,  Lord,  for  Christ's  sake, 
when  thou  in  wrath  visit  this  land,  and  although  I  should  fall  into  the 
common  calamity,  yet  let  my  soul  be  united  to  thee  in  peace ;  keep 
my  faith,  and  do  not  suffer  me  to  flinch  from  the  least  article  of  thy 
truths,  but  speak  thou  for  me,  when  I  shall  be  called  to  own  thee 
publicly  before  the  enemy.  O  let  not  my  self-ends  get  more  room 
there  than  thy  glory  !  I  must  end  this  day  with  a  song  of  praise,  that 
the  Lord  hath  been  pleased  to  countenance  and  accept  of  an  offering 
of  mine  hand  ;  and  that  he  would  put  me  in  a  disposition  for  such  a 
solemn  day,  to  pour  out  my  requests  in  the  bitterness  of  my  soul. 
Let  this  day  be  remembered  by  me,  that  I  may  sing  glory  and  praise  ; 
and  that,  to  eternity,  my  song  may  be,  to  Father,  Son,  and  Holy 
Ghost,  one  God,  to  him  be  endless  praise  and  glory,  for  now  and 
evermore.     Amen. 

11  About  this  time  the  condition  of  my  father  lay  very  near  my 
heart,  and  that  because  I  could  see  nothing  like  a  change  on  him  to 
the  better,  but  particularly  on  the  7th  of  January,  1706,  it  being 
Sabbath,  I  was  strangely  weighted  with  it,  and  was  made  to  plead 
the  out-making  of  the  promise  on  his  account,  that  he  would  shew 
wonders  to  the  dead,  I  having  the  impression  of  his  death  on  me, 
though  at  that  time  he  was  well  in  health.  I  often  made  use  of  that 
word  in  prayer,  Psal.  cxix.  '  It  is  time  to  work,  Lord,  it  is  time  for 
thee  to  work.'  He  is  growing  old,  and  wearing  near  his  grave ;  O 
Lord,  let  free  grace  be  glorified  in  his  salvation,  according  to  thy 
promises. 


25 G  MEMOIRS    OF 

"  On  Thursday  next,  of  a  sudden  he  had  a  purging  of  blood ; 
and  in  the  afternoon  he  vomited  excessively,  so  that  none  thought  he 
could  put  off  this  night ;  I  knowing  nothing  of  it,  for  I  was  not  at  this 
time  in  my  father's  house. 

"  On  Friday  morning  they  sent  and  told  me  my  father  was  not 
well.  No  sooner  I  heard  this,  but  I  concluded  it  was  his  death ! 
which  immediately  put  me  in  a  praying  posture  for  him,  '  that  now 
free  grace  might  be  exalted  in  his  salvation,  according  to  the 
promise.' 

"  The  first  time  I  saw  him,  I  told  him  with  tears,  that  it  was  death 
approaching,  and  besought  him  to  lay  it  to  heart.  He  made  me  little 
or  no  answer,  but  grievous  were  the  looks  he  gave  me,  which  sent  me 
to  the  throne  of  grace,  inquiring  of  the  Lord  what  could  be  the  mat- 
ter I  was  sent  so  many  errands  for  him,  both  at  communions  and  oth- 
er solemn  occasions,  and  so  loaded  with  him  for  ordinary  in  prayer, 
where  I  would  have  got  liberty  for  him,  when  I  could  have  sought  no 
other  thing,  since  now  they  were  all  like  to  come  to  nought ;  he  on  a 
death-bed,  and  no  appearance  of  a  work  of  grace  begun  yet.  This 
tossed  me  up  and  down  in  a  terrible  manner  as  ever  any  was.  It 
was  not  the  loss  of  him  as  my  parent,  that  so  troubled  me ;  no,  no ; 
in  this  respect  I  could  have  parted  with  him  freely  ;  but  the  thing  that 
troubled  me  was,  fearing  he  would  be  a  cast-away.  The  thoughts 
of  this  made  me  utter  these  words  before  the  Lord  in  prayer,  O 
Lord,  in  the  days  of  thy  flesh,  some  came  to  thee  for  their  servant, 
some  for  their  son,  some  for  their  daughter,  some  for  themselves, 
and  they  got  all  good  answers.  Now  I  come  for  my  father ;  O  de- 
ny me  not  for  thy  own  name's  sake  ! 

"About  nine  o'clock  he  grew  very  weak,  and  his  speech  failed 
him  ;  then  I  cried  to  the  Lord  to  hear  my  last  request  for  him  :  I 
continued  pleading  with  a  troubled  and  vexed  spirit,  until  it  pleased 
the  Lord,  in  his  great  Condescendence,  to  bear  that  word  in  my 
mind,  Mai.  iii.  16.  'He  shall  be  mine  in  that  day  that  I  make  up 
my  jewels  ;  and  I  will  spare  him  as  a  man  doth  his  son  that  serveth 
him.'  This  brought  with  it  a  sweet  calm  and  composure  of  spirit  to 
me,  so  that  I  came  patiently,  and  saw  him  depart  this  life,  about 
eleven  of  the  clock  at  night,  being  the  13th  of  January,  1700. 

"  About  this  time  there  happened  a  very  lamentable  providence  in 
the  city  :  the  3d  of  February,  about  ten  at  night,  a  fire  broke  out  in 
the  Meal-market,  the  like  of  which,  I  believe,  was  not  seen  in  many 
generations :  it  burnt  so  vehemently,  that  it  was  thought  the  most 
part  of  the  city  would  have  been  consumed  ;  the  flames  were  so  ter- 
rible, that  none  durst  come  near  to  quench  it ;  it  was  also  a  very 
great  wind,  which  blew  to  such  a  degree,  that,  with  the  sparks  that 
came  from  the  fire,  there  was  nothing  to  be  seen  through  the  whole 
city,  but  as  it  had  been  showers  of  tire  like  showers  of  snow,  they 
were  so  thick ;  it  was  to  me  an  emblem  of  hell,  and  oftentimes  Sod- 
om came  in  my  mind  that  night.     O  but  it  was  a  sad  and  lamentable 


ELIZABETH    WEST.  257 

sight  to  look  upon,  to  see  the  most  populous  place  in  the  city,  the 
Parliament-square,  in  a  red  flame,  the  flames  flying  in  the  elements, 
and  no  hands  endeavoring  to  put  them  out.  I  cannot  but  remark, 
that  this  night  these  words  were  fulfilled,  which  I  heard  pronounced 
against  the  city  by  Mr.  John  Moncrief,  in  the  College-kirk,  Sabbath 
after  the  fire  in  the  Canongate-head  ;  the  words  were  these,  Micah 
vi.  9.  '  God's  voice  crieth  to  the  city,  and  the  man  of  wisdom  shall 
see  thy  name ;  hear  ye  the  rod,  and  who  hath  appointed  it.' 

"I  left  my  place,  and  went  to  Jerviswood's  family  in  Edinburgh  ; 
but  Providence  so  ordered  it,  that  I  was  sent  to  the  country  house, 
which  was  at  Melistoun  in  the  south  :  this  was  unexpected,  but  yet  I 
willingly  complied  with  it.  As  we  were  in  the  way  going  there,  about 
the  middle  of  the  day  I  retired  a  little  to  the  fields  secretly,  in  which 
place  the  Lord  gave  me  a  sweet  promise  that  he  would  be  with  me, 
and  revive  me  as  the  corn,  and  as  the  dew  upon  Israel ;  that  I  should 
grow  as  the  lily,  and  send  forth  branches  as  Lebanon  :  this  encouraged 
me  in  my  journey  there,  where  I  was  kindly  received  and  entertained. 

"  Now,  as  for  the  Lord's  way  with  me  in  that  place,  I  cannot  but 
remark,  some  few  days  after  I  came  there,  the  Sacrament  was  given 
at  Stichel :  to  which  place  I  went,  and  on  Saturday  I  met  with  very 
much  sweetness  in  the  sermons,  for  it  was  soul  comforting  news  I 
heard  there.  The  first  text  was  on  these  words,  in  Isaiah,  '  I  will 
pour  water  on  the  dry  ground,  and  floods  on  the  thirsty ;'  where  the 
very  desire  of  my  soul  was  spoken  to,  and  I  was  made  to  apply  it. 
The  other  text  was,  '  to  this  man  will  I  look,  who  is  of  a  broken  and 
a  contrite  heart.'  This  was  also  a  blessed  sermon  to  me,  where  I 
thought  the  Lord  was  giving  me  an  invitation  to  come  to  his  blessed 
table  to  morrow :  and  accordingly  I  went ;  and  blessed  be  God,  he 
was  not  altogether  a  hiding  God  :  but  I  got  not  what  I  would  have 
been  at.  We  were  very  much  exhorted  to  watchfulness,  and  to  be 
on  our  guard,  which  was  very  sweet  to  me  in  hearing ;  but,  I  may 
say  it",  to  my  great  shame,  I  had  not  so  much  delight  in  putting  it  in 
practice  ;  for  I  soon  let  my  heart  wander  on  trifles  of  no  value  ;  so 
that  I  soon  lost  my  good  motions  by  my  own  neglect.  But,  what 
shall  I  say  ?  My  winter  season  was  lengthened  out  in  a  great  meas- 
ure ;  sometimes  a  fair  day  and  a  warm  blink  ;  then  presently  a  storm 
on  the  back  of  it  from  Satan,  my  own  corruptions,  and  a  wicked 
world  ;  sometimes  light  breaks  in  so  as  I  could  read  the  love  of  God 
in  Christ  Jesus  to  my  poor  soul,  and  that  there  shall  be  an  accomplish- 
ment of  these  long  delayed  promises  to  my  comfort;  but  then,  ere 
ever  I  was  aware,  darkness  came  and  overshadowed  all?  so  that  I 
was  a  prey  to  unbelief  and  discouragement.  Through  this  summer 
season  I  had  several  occasions  of  communions  in  that  place,  for 
which  I  bless  the  Lord  ;  and  also  for  our  ordinary  Sabbath  day's  ser- 
mons,  which  were  very  refreshing  to  me. 

"  There  is  another  thing  I  cannot  forbear  to  remark,  concerning 
my  outward  affairs  in  this  family  :  I  must  acknowledge  everyone  was 

33 


258  MEMOIRS    OF 

more  civil  to  me  and  kind  than  another,  except  a  French  woman  who 
was  in  the  family  ;  she  was  one  that  was  visibly  void  of  religion,  as 
also  her  outward  behavior  was  most  unsavory  and  unbecoming ;  not- 
withstanding of  this,  I  put  the  best  construction  upon  her  I  could, 
because  she  was  a  stranger.  This  person  seemed  to  have  a  very 
great  esteem  of  me  ;  and  many  times  she  would  bless  the  Lord  that 
ever  she  was  in  company  with  me  :  yet  I  never  noticed  any  thing  she 
said,  knowing  her  to  be  a  very  great  liar.  But  there  was  one  day, 
being  Sabbath  morning,  she  coming  down  stairs,  singing  to  a  little 
dog  in  her  arms,  at  this  I  could  not  wink,  but  reproved  her  for  so 
doing  :  at  which  she  seemed  to  be  displeased,  and  wist  not  what  way 
to  be  revenged  on  me  ;  but,  to  make  amends  for  a  fault,  when  we 
went  to  church,  she  was  wholly  employed  in  mocking  the  minister, 
and  shooting  out  her  finger  in  time  of  sermon,  so  that  a  great  many 
in  the  kirk  took  notice  of  her,  were  mightily  offended,  and  told  me, 
they  wondered  that  such  a  person  should  be  allowed  to  dwell  in  a 
family  where  better  things  were  expected.  I  considering  that  the 
heads  of  the  family  were  from  home,  I  took  it  upon  me  to  reprove 
her  sharply :  on  the  back  of  this  she  turned  the  most  outrageous, 
mischievous  spirit  against  me,  that  she  contrived  the  most  horrid  lies 
which  could  be  invented  :  but  the  Lord  of  his  goodness  turned  her 
malice  to  her  own  shame,  and  nowise  to  my  hurt,  but  rather  to  the  con- 
trary :  yet  this  trial  was  somewhat  weighty  to  me,  considering  this 
woman's  reproachful  tongue  ;  but  I  was  helped,  first  by  the  Lord, 
and  then  by  all  those  among  whom  I  dwelt,  who,  though  they  were 
strangers  to  me,  yet  their  sympathy  was  beyond  expression. 

"I  left  this  family  in  November,  and  returned  back  to  the  family 
out  of  which  I  came  at  last  at  the  Inch ;  where  I  was  received  with 
very  much  kindness  by  all  in  it,  and  particularly  by  those  who  were 
my  enemies  before ;  in  which  I  saw  much  of  the  wisdom  and  wise 
conduct  of  the  Almighty,  who  does  all  things  well :  and  this  my 
soul  knows  to  its  experience  :  there  being  many  things  in  my  charge 
in  this  family,   that   now  were  made   more  easy  in  many  respects. 

0  the  depths  of  his  wisdom  !  I  saw  in  this  providence,  beyond  what 

1  can  express :  yet,  even  at  this  time,  I  wanted  not  a  strong  body  of 
sin  and  death  weighing  me  down,  and  making  me  cry  out  many 
times  with  bitterness  of  spirit,  '  O  that  I  had  wings  like  a  dove  !  then 
would  I  fly  away,  and  be  at  rest,'  from  a  tempting  devil,  a  corrupt 
heart,  a  wicked  world,  and  the  sin  that  does  so  easily  beset  me. 

"  These  things  I  would  not  so  particularly  record,  but  it  is  to  let 
us  see  the  care  and  concern  the  Lord  hath  about  his  poor  people 
when  in  trouble,  even  with  respect  to  their  external  concerns :  he 
hath  a  fatherly  and  tender  heart,  he  pities  and  helps  in  the  most 
convenient  seasons.  I  must  acknowledge,  that  this  dispensation 
of  Providence  to  me,  the  vilest  and  unworthiest  of  all  his  creatures, 
was  so  remarkable,  and  exactly  the  return  of  prayer  in  all  the  cir- 
cumstances of  it ;  that  I  am  more  and  more  every  day  made  to  won- 


ELIZABETH    WEST.  259 

der  at  his  wise  conduct  of  Providence,  not  only  toward  my  soul,  for 
which  he  hath  done  great  things,  but  also  with  respect  to  my  lot  in 
the  world.  But  I  may  say  with  the  Psalmist,  '  He  is  the  God.  that 
performeth  all  things  (well)  for  me,  spiritual  and  temporal.'  I  get 
nothing  but  what  he  makes  me  first  cry  to  him  for  by  prayer,  and 
then  in  his  own  time  and  way  he  answers  and  performs  what  he  hath 
made  me  believe.  O  happy  are  they  that  have  so  good  a  God  to 
trust  in !" 


260 


THE  RIGHT  HONORABLE  THE 

LADY  ELIZABETH  HASTINGS. 


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, 
Bath,  one  moiety,  and  more,  of  whose  very  large  estate  came  to  hev 
by  inheritance. 

There  was  a  fine  dawn  of  her  future  excellences  in  her  tender 
age.  A  countenance  that  united  in  it  something  great,  and  something 
condescending;  an  ingenuous  temper;  a  quickness  of  understan- 
ding ;  a  benevolent  spirit ;  a  flexibility  of  nature ;  a  devout  frame 
and  a  solemn  sense  of  divine  things ;  were  observable  in  her  first  de- 
parture out  of  her  infancy,  and  her  footsteps  slipt  not  in  the  danger- 
ous 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  tri- 
fling 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 
contests  between  the  Earl,  her  father,  and  Lord  Hastings,  her  broth- 
er, she  observed  such  a  prudence  in  her  conduct,  that  she  preserved 
the  kindness  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  substance,  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  Honorable 
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  some- 
thing more  than  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  Sir 
Richard  Steele,  the  ingenious  author  of  the  paper  called  the  Tatler 
under  the  name  of  Aspasia. 

"  But  these  ancients,"  says  our  writer,  "  would  be  as  much  aston- 
shed  to  see  in  the  same  age   so  illustrious  a  pattern  to   all  who  love 


MEMOIRS,  &C.  261 

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  honor,  truth,  compassion,  knowledge,  and  in- 
nocence. 

"  ■  There  dwells  the  scorn  of  vice,  and  pity  too.' 

"  In  the  midst  of  the  most  ample  fortune,  and  veneration  of  all  that 
behold  and  know  her,  without  the  least  affectation,  she  consults  re- 
tirement, 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  uninterrupted  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  sim- 
plicity and  humble  thoughts  of  a  cottage  are  her  more  welcome  enter- 
tainments. 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  virtuous,  without  tasting  the  praise 
of  it ;  and  shuns  applause  with  as  much  industry,  as  others  do  re- 
proach. 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  endeavors  to  reach  the  sublimest  heights  of 
honor  and  virtue,  our  lady  commenced  an  acquaintance  with  persons 
eminent  for  religion,  Doctor  John  Sharp,  Archbishop  of  York,  Rob- 
ert 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  es- 
teemed and  honored  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  fol- 
lowing text,  Prov.  xxxi.  29,  "  Many  daughters  have  done  virtuously, 
but  thou  excellest  them  all." 

In  the  place  (Ledstone-house,)  where  her  ladyship  spent  the  great- 
er 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  improved.  As  to  the  lower  part,  they  were  guid- 
ed by  her  wisdom,  and,  if  they  wanted  it,  were  cherished  by  her 
bounty. 


Tutler,  Number  42,  dated  July  16,  1709. 


262  MEMOIRS  OF 

Such  was  the  superiority  of  her  understanding,  that  in  matters  of 
high  moment  hundreds  would  ask  counsel  of  her,  who  were  them- 
selves well  qualified  to  give  it  to  others,  for  she  was  blessed  with  a 
rectitude  of  judgment,  and  could  readily  penetrate  through  perplexi- 
ties, unravel  them,  and  mark  out  the  wisest  and  safest  conduct,  hav- 
ing ever  for  her  ground  the  interests  of  truth,  fidelity,  honor,  and  re- 
ligion. Her  end  was  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  good  of  all  men, 
keeping  all  her  capacities,  all  her  powers,  and  all  her  fortune  contin- 
ually upon  the  stretch  for  the  benefit  of  her  fellow-creatures;  weep- 
ing 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  6b- 
jects  the  affairs  of  this  life,  her  ladyship's  mind  was  endowed  with 
that  wisdom  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  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  cheer- 
fulness, 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  attaching  herself  to  such  em- 
ployments 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  sanctiflcation  and  honor.  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 
meditation  or  prudent  deliberations  what  better  measures  to  take  in 
the  duties  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  oft- 
en 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. 


LADY  ELIZABETH  HASTINGS.  263 

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  sen- 
tence 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  inter- 
cessions 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  aspi- 
rations towards  him.  So  well  did  she  know  the  mighty  importance 
of  prayer,  its  gracious  acceptance  with  the  Almighty,  and  its  power- 
ful help  to  enlighten,  relieve,  strenghten,  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,  compassionate  mistress, 
presiding  over  them  with  the  disposition  of  a  parent,  providing  for 
the  improvement  of  their  minds,  for  the  decency  of  their  behavior, 
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  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  behavior  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  declar- 
ed to  be  a  property  of  mercy.  She  would  have  the  skill  and  contri- 
vance 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  neigh- 
bors might  not  fall  into  idleness  and  poverty  for  want  of  employment; 
and,  while  she  thus  tenderly  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 
conversation  were  most  shining  and  great,  and  more  in  truth  than 


264  MEMOIRS  OF 

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  humor 
would  prefer  the  much  better  ornaments  of  courtesy  and  complais- 
ance. It  was  her  great  care  that  they  with  whom  she  conversed 
should  be  convinced  of  the  honor  and  esteem  she  bore  them,  to  ob- 
serve 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  occur- 
red, or  was  before  her,  watching  all  the  while  with  penetration  and 
eagerness  for  a  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  majority  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  wisdom  things  new  and  old.  Here  she  displayed  all  the  elegan- 
ces of  good  breeding,  addressing  herself  to  all  with  great  meekness 
and  condescension,  and  adapting  herself  to  every  one'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  pi  one  or  more  of 
her  family,  so  she  made  them  all  the  parts  of  herself,  and  embraced 
all  her  relations,  according  as  they  stood  in  the  several  degrees  of 
consanguinity,  with  true  and  tender  affection.  She  would  also  in- 
quire 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  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 
fatherless,  and  the  widow ;  the  needy,  and  him  that  hath  no  help- 
er ;  the  lame,  the  halt,  and  the  blind  ?  These  objects  drew  out  the 
compassions  of  her  soul.  She  had  a  share  in  all  their  sufferings ; 
she  would  often  converse  with  them,  and  inquire  into  their  history 
with  the  utmost  condescension.  She  would  study  their  particularca- 
ses,  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  num- 
bers; and  it  was  not  chargeable  upon  any  neglect  of  hers,  if  any  one 
went  away  unrelieved  with  meat,  physic,  clothing,  or  money,  accord- 
ing to  their  several  necessities,  and  many  times  a  single  person  would 


LADY    ELIZABETH    HASTINGS.  2G5 

receive  all  four.  Many  of  those  that  lived  remote  had  yearly  al- 
lowances, 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  strait- 
ness  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  declar- 
ed and  most  admirable  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  substance,  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  engag- 
ing in  the  South-Sea  scheme. 

At  the  same  time  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  sulli- 
ed 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  excursions ;  and  she  would  continually  cherish  the  divine  life 
by  acts  of  faith  in  the  blood  of  her  Redeemer,  by  rating  her  own 
righteousness  as  nothing,  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  close- 
ly 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. 

We  shall  now  accompany  her  to  the  closing  scene.  As  was  her 
day  such  washer  evening,  if  indeed  her  sun  did  not  go  down  with  an 
improved  and  redoubled  lustre.  Her  ladyship,  in  early  life,  had  re- 
ceived a  contusion  upon  her  right  breast,  which  left  behind  it  a  small 
inward  tumor,  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 

34 


266  MEMOIRS    OF 

death  it  gave  her  cause  of  complaint,  upon  which  application  was 
made  to  a  reverend  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  separated  from  the  body. 

"  What  her  ladyships'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  neighboring 
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  medicines  sent  from  heaven  to  heal  our  spiritual 
diseases. 

Her  ladyship  beforehand  saw  into  the  truth  of  all  this,  as  she  had 
well  explored  and  digested  every  other  truth  in  the  whole  system  of 
our  holy  religion,  and  would  often  express  some  uneasiness  that  her 
own  sufferings,  in  the  account  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  sufferings,  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  favor  and  acceptance  with  him. 

The  letter  mentioned  above  was  shown  to  her  ladyship,  who,  with 
an  emotion  beyond  what  was  usual  with  her,  declared,  "  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  accordingly  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 
wisdom  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  shewed  no  reluctance, 
no  struggle,  or  contention,  nor  did  she  even  make  any  complaint ; 


LADY    ELIZABETH    HASTINGS.  267 

only,  indeed,  towards  the  end  of  her  bloody  baptism,  she  drew  such 
a  sigh,  as  any  compassionate  reader  may  do  to  be  told  this.  Though 
even  this  small  expression  of  anguish  has  been  denied  by  a  clergy- 
man 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  provis- 
ions 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  employment,  and  exercising  them  in  acts  of  love,  gratitude, 
and  adoration  ;  so  that  some  doubt  may  be  made  whether  the  Israel- 
ites, with  their  heavenly-commissioned  captain  at  the  head  of  them, 
offered  more  acceptable  melody  to  their  Almighty  Deliverer,  after 
their  escape  from  Pharaoh  and  his  armies  at  the  Red  Sea,  than  did 
this  lady  at  this  juncture,  under  distresses,  one  would  think,  superior 
to  what  theirs  had  been. 

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  em- 
ployments indeed,  but  such  as  were  calculated  for  the  glory  of  God, 
and  the  good  of  mankind. 

She  saw  what  an  excellent  and  serviceable  handmaid  learning  was 
to  religion,  and  upon  that  account  was  a  great  lover  of  it,  and  indeed 
was  far  from  being  destitute  of  learning  herself,  for  she  was  able  to 
compose  and  judge  well,  and  could  mark  out  the  beauties,  excellen- 
cies, errors,  and  defects  in  authors,  and  whether  they  were  written 
in  taste  or  not ;  and  as  to  practical  divinity,  and  thingsbelonging  to  the 
direction  of  conscience,  she  rarely  ever  made  an  erroneous  deter- 
mination. 

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  ma- 
nor of  Wheldale  to  the  provost  and  scholars  of  Queen's  College,  Ox- 
ford, 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  prostitution,  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, 


268  MEMOIRS    OF 

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,  this  labor  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  afflic- 
tion, 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  Savior  endured  for  her  on  the  cross,  and  that  there  was 
great  probability  that  the  last  draught  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  eternal  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  behind,  but  pressing  forward  to  the  things  that  were  be- 
fore. 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  com- 
forted, 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  circumstan- 
ces 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  observa- 
tion any  errors,  mistakes,  neglects,  or  inadvertences,  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  fam- 
ily, yet  reached  those  of  greater  distance.  Witness  the  great  num- 
ber of  letters  she  wrote  and  dictated  to  others,  when  she  became  un- 
able 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  parsons  of  all  conditions  to  behold  the  living  power  of  religion  in 
her,  and  to  be  partakers  of,  and  be  benefited  by,  her  wisdom,   whom 


LADY    ELIZABETH    HASTINGS.  269 

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  keeping  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  warm- 
ing 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  heaven  ; 
as  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 still  driving  on,  and  carried  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  refresh  ?"  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  guineas  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  favor,  in  all  her  life  before. 

Her  ladyship  was  for  several  months  separated  from  public  wor- 
ship, of  which  she  was  a  great  lover,  and  to  observe  which  she  held 
herself  under  sacred  and  inviolable  obligations.  So  great  and  exem- 
plary was  her  zeal  in  this  respect,  that  she  could  not  excuse  herself 
from  an  attendance  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 
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  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  dis- 
tress ?  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  service,  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  ex- 
pected. 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  dis- 
tress. But  her  firmest  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  shy  could  refresh  herself  under  its  sha- 
dow.    By  the  virtue  of  this  grace   she  had   overcome  the  fears  of 


270  MEMOIRS  OF 

death,  and  taken  out  its  sting ;  and  neither  the  sight  of  death,  nor 
the  rigor  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  Redeemer  had,  and  his  right- 
eousness 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  nurture  and  admonition,  and  was  now  putting 
his  last  hand  for  the  finishing  his  own  work,  so  the  gates  of  his  king- 
dom 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  admitted  that  her  ladyship  had  a  willingness, 
consistent  enough  with  her  full  resignation  to  the  divine  will,  to  trav- 
el 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  soul,  knew  this  and  directed  all  his  skill  for  the  continuance  of 
her  life,  till  her  benevolent  wishes  were  accomplished  ;  and  so  indul- 
gent 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  entered  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  Gentle- 
man's Magazine  for  January,  1740,  p.  36,  in  the  list  of  deaths  for 
the  year  1740.  The  first  of  them  is  the  following  article  : — "De- 
cember 22,  1739.  The  Honorable  the  Lady  Elizabeth  Hastings, 
at  her  seat  at  Ledstone,  Yorkshire,  sister  to  George  late  Earl  of  Hun- 
tingdon, and  half  sister  to  Theophilus  the  present  Earl.  Though 
the  splendor  of  her  birth  was  truly  great,  it  seemed  as  it  were  eclip- 
sed by  her  shining  qualities.  She  was  amiable  in  her  person,  gen- 
teel in  her  mien,  polite  in  her  manners,  and  agreeable  in  her  con- 
versation. Her  judgment  was  solid,  her  regard  to  friendship  sacred 
and  her  sense  of  honor  strict  to  the  last  degree ;  and  she  was  of  so 
rare  modesty  and  humility,  that  a  more  disagreeable  thing  could  not 
be  done  than  publishing  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  man- 
kind was  such  as  the  good  angels  are  blessed  with.  Thousands  had 
she  comforted  and  relieved,  many  enriched  and  advanced.  Her  pa- 
tience and  resignation  under  her  last,  long  and  tedious  sickness,  her 
mourning  for  the  sins  of  men,  her  unwearied  endeavors  for  their 
eternal  welfare,  her  generous  and  charitable  apppointments,  her  ten- 
der expressions  to  her  relations,  friends  and  servants,  and  her  grate- 
ful acknowledgments  to  her  physicians,  require  whole  pages  to  set 
them  in  a  proper  light.  In  short  scarce  any  age  has  afforded  a  great- 
er blessing  to  many,  or  a  brighter  example  to  all.  Her  corpse  was 
interred,  with  great  funeral  solemnity,  in  the  family  vault  at  Ledstone, 
near  her  grandfather,  Sir  John  Lewis,  Bart.,  the  following  inscrip- 
tion being  put  upon  her  leaden  coffin,  &c." 


LADY    ELIZABETH    HASTINGS.  271 

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  charity  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  succeeding  ages 
Of  all  that's  good,  and  all  that's  great, 


( 


272 


LADY  HUNTINGDON. 


Selina,  Countess  of  Huntingdon,  was  the  daughter  of  Washing- 
ton, Earl  of  Ferrers;  was  born  Aug.  24,  1707,  and  married  June  3, 
1728,  toTheophilus  Earl  of  Huntingdon. 

In  her  early  youth,  when  about  nine  years  old,  the  sight  of  a  corpse 
about  her  own  age,  carried  to  the  grave,  engaged  her  to  attend  the 
funeral,  and  there  the  first  impressions  of  deep  seriousness  about  an 
eternal  world  laid  hold  of  her  conscience ;  and  with  many  tears  she 
cried  earnestly  on  the  spot  to  God,  that  whenever  he  was  pleased  to 
call  her  hence,  he  would  deliver  her  from  all  her  fears,  and  give  her 
a  happy  departure;  she  often  afterwards  visited  the  grave,  and  al- 
ways 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  continued  to  pray,  that  if  she  married,  it  might  be  into  a 
serious  family.  None  kept  up  more  of  the  ancient  dignity  of  Eng- 
lish nobility  than  the  house  of  Huntingdon,  or  were  more  amiable  in 
a  moral  view,  and  with  the  head  of  that  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 
knowledge  of  the  gospel  under  the  preaching  of  the  zealous  method- 
ists  of  that  time.  Conversing  one  day  with  Lady  Margaret  on  this 
subject,  Lady  Huntingdon  was  very  much  struck  with  a  sentiment 
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  an- 
gel." To  any  such  sensations  of  happiness,  Lady  H.  felt  that 
she  was  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  circumstances  the  words  of  Lady  Margaret  returned  strong- 
ly to  her  recollection,  and  she  felt  an  earnest  desire,  renouncing  all 
other  hope,  to  cast  herself  wholly  upon  Christ :  she  lifted  up  her 
heart  to  Jesus  the  Savior  in  prayer,  her  distress  and  fear  were  remo- 
ved, and  she  was  filled  with  joy  and  peace  in  believing.  Her  dis- 
order soon  took  a  favorable  turn,  and  she  was  not  only  restored  to 
perfect  health,  but,  what  was  infinitely  better,  to  newness  of  life,  and 
determined  thenceforward  to  present  herself  to  God  as  a  living  sacri- 
fice, holy  and  acceptable,  which  she  was  now  convinced  was  her  rea- 
sonable service. 


MEMOIRS,   &C  273 


The  change  which  divine  grace  thus  wrought  upon  her  ladyship, 
soon  became  observable  to  all  around  her,  by  the  open  confession 
which  she  made  of  the  faith  once  delivered  to  the  saints,  and  by  the 
zealous  support  which  she  gave  to  the  cause  of  God,  amidst  all  the 
reproach  with  which  it  was  attended  :  she  had  set  her  face  as  a  flint, 
and  was  not  ashamed  of  Christ  and  his  cross.  There  were  not  want- 
ing indeed  some,  who  under  the  guise  of  friendship  wished  Lord 
Huntingdon  to  interpose  his  authority:  but  however  he  differed  from 
her  in  sentiment,  he  continued  to  shew  her  the  same  affection  and 
respect,  and  on  his  demise  left  her  the  entire  management  of  her  chil- 
dren and  of  their  fortunes. 

Some  of  the  dignified  clergy  were  not  so  candid  and  liberal,  as 
appears  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  la- 
menting that  he  had  ever  laid  his  hands  on  George  Whitefield,  to 
whom  he  imputed,  though  without  cause,  the  change  wrought  in  her 
ladyship.  Calling  him  back  :  "  My  lord,"  said  she,  "  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  de- 
serves remark,  that  bishop  Benson  on  his  dying  bed  sent  ten  guineas 
to  Mr.  Whitefield,  as  a  token  of  his  favor,  and  begged  to  be  remem- 
bered by  him  in  his  prayers. 

During  Lord  Huntingdon's  life,  his  countess  warmly  espoused  the 
cause  of  God  and  truth,  though  her  means  of  usefulness  were  neces- 
sarily circumscribed,  and  her  family  engagements  occupied  much  of 
her  time  and  attention.  Having  become  her  own  mistress,  she  re- 
solved to  devote  herself  wholly  to  the  service  of  Christ,  and  the  souls 
redeemed  by  him.  Her  zealous  heart  embarced  cordially  all  she 
esteemed  as  real  Christians,  whatever  their  denomination  or  opin- 
ions might  be ;  but  being  herself  in  sentiment  more  congenial  with 
Mr.  Whitefield,  than  the  Mr.  Wesleys,  she  favored  those  who  were 
the  ministers  of  the  Calvinistic  persuasion,  according  to  the  literal 
sense  of  the  articles  of  the  Church  of  England.  And  with  an  in- 
tention of  giving  them  a  greater  scene  of  usefulness,  she  opened  her 
house  in  Park-street  for  the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  supposing,  as  a 
peeress  of  the  realm,  that  she  had  an  indisputable  right  to  employ, 
as  her  family  chaplains,  ihose  ministers  of  the  church  whom  she  pat- 
ronised. 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  draw- 
ing-room, where  Mr.  Whitefield,  Mr.  Romaine,  Mr.  Jones,  and  oth- 
er ministers  of  Christ,  addressed  to  them  faithfully  the  word  of  life, 
and  were  heard  with  apparently  deep  and  serious  attention. 

35 


274  MEMOIRS   OF 

For  the  supply  of  her  chapels,  Lady  Huntingdon  first  confined 
herself  to  the  ministers  of  the  established  church,  as  her  preachers, 
many  of  whom  accepted  her  invitation,  and  labored  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  assis- 
tance, 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  min- 
isters who  had  before  labored  for  her  ladyship,  were  unequal  to  the 
task ;  and  some  unwilling  to  move  in  a  sphere  so  extensive,  and 
which  began  to  be  branded  as  irregular,  and  to  meet  great  opposition : 
yet  many  persevered  in  their  services,  when  summoned  to  the  work, 
and  were  content  to  bear  the  cross. 

In  order  to  provide  proper  persons  for  the  work,  her  ladyship  now 
retired  to  South  Wales,  and  erected  a  chapel  and  college  in  the  pa- 
rish of  Talgarth,  Brecknockshire.  The  chapel  was  opened  in  1768. 
The  college  was  provided  with  able  teachers,  and  soon  filled  with 
students.  From  that  retirement  Lady  Huntingdon  despatched  the 
requisite  supplies  for  the  increased  congregations  under  her  patro- 
nage ;  and  as  the  calls  were  often  urgent,  her  students  were  too  fre- 
quently thrust  forth  into  the  harvest,  before  they  had  made  any  con- 
siderable proficiency  in  the  languages,  or  sacred  literature,  in  which 
it  had  been  her  intention  they  should  be  instructed.  Few  of  them 
knew  much  more  than  their  native  tongue ;  yet  being  men  of  strong 
sense,  and  real  devoted ness  to  God,  their  ministry  was  greatly  bless- 
ed, and  the  accounts  of  their  success  animated  her  to  greater  exer- 
tions. They  were  itinerant — moved  from  congregation  to  congrega- 
tion in  a  rotation  established ;  and  her  correspondence  with  them  to 
regulate  and  provide  a  constant  supply,  was  a  labor  to  which  her  ac- 
tive spirit  alone  was  equal. 

The  seminary  in  Wales  ceased  at  her  ladyship's  death,  the  lease 
having  just  expired,  and  no  endowment  left,  her  income  dying  with 
her :  but  a  new  college  on  a  plan  more  promising  for  literature,  has 
been  established  at  Cheshunt,  in  Hertfordshire,  near  London  :  and 
under  the  superintending  care  of  trustees,  appointed  for  that  purpose 
a  number  of  students  have  already  been  educated  there  ;  and  many 
are  gone  forth,  now  preaching  the  gospel,   from  this  seminary. 

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  for  many 
years  by  the  great  and  gay  of  the  metropolis,  and  yet  a  place  of 
fashionable  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  erect- 
ed for  entertaining  and  amusing  parties  of  pleasure,  especially  on  the 
Lord's  day.  The  Rev.  Herbert  Jones  and  William  Taylor,  two 
clergymen  under  the  patronage  of  Lady  Huntingdon,  took  the  place 


LADY    HUNTINGDON.  275 

for  religious  worship;  and  it  was  opened,  July  6,  1777,  with  a  ser- 
mon by  the  former  clergyman,  on  the  very  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,  and  its  local  situation  is  highly 
favorable.  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  con- 
sistorial  court  of  the  Bishop  of  London,  against  the  two  clergymen 
who  officiated  there.  To  that  spiritual  court  they  were  summoned, 
and  were  forbidden  to  preach  there  any  longer,  on  pain  of  expul- 
sion from  the  church.  They  chose  to  obey  God  rather  than  man  ; 
and  Lady  Huntingdon,  having  purchased  the  chapel,  several  clergy- 
men seceded  from  the  established  church,  and  put  themselves  under 
the  protection  of  the  toleration  act.  These  clergymen  drew  up  and 
subscribed  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  doc- 
trines taught  in  all  the  countess's  chapels  are  strictly  evangelical, 
while  the  episcopalian  mode  of  worship  is  used,  though  some  altera- 
tions are  made  in  the  liturgy,  particularly  respecting  baptism  and  bu- 
rial. 

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  necessary  ;  and  it  was  perhaps  proper  to  shew  by  substan- 
tial and  permanent  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  ;  and 
the  galleries  exhibit  decent,  serious  hearers  of  the  word  of  life. 
The  place,  which  is  in  the  form  of  a  low,  yet  wide  spread  taberna- 
cle, will  hold  five  thousand  persons,  and  bears  the  name  of  Sion 
Chapel. 

Such  are  her  ladyship's  principal  chapels.  There  are  several 
others  of  less  note,  which  our  limits  prevent  us  from  specifying  and 
describing. 

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  immensity  of  expense  in  which  she  was  necessarily  involved. 
Her  jointure  was  not  more  than  twelve  hundred  pounds  a  year  :  and 
only  after  the  death  of  her  son,  a  few  years  preceding  her  own,  she 
had  the  addition  of  another  thousand.  She  often  involved  herself 
in  expenses  for  building  chapels,  which  she  found  it  burthensome  to 
discharge ;  but  the  Lord  brought  her  always  honorably  through  her 
engagements,  and  provided  a  supply  when  her  own  was  exhausted. 


276  MEMOIRS    OF 

Lady  Huntingdon's  person,  endowments  and  spirit,  were  all  un- 
common. She  was  rather  above  the  middle  size,  her  presence  noble 
and  commanding  respect ;  her  address  singularly  engaging ;  her  in- 
telligence acute  ;  her  diligence  indefatigable ;  and  the  constant  labor 
of  her  thought  and  correspondence  inconceivable.  During  forty  five 
years  of  widowhood,  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  vig- 
or 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 ;  and  to  the  very  last  days  of  her  life,  her  active 
mind  was  planning  still  greater  and  more  extensive  schemes  of  use- 
fulness, 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 ;  which  no  disappointments  quenched,  no  labors  slackened, 
no  opposition  discouraged,  no  progress  of  years  abated  ;  it  flamed 
strongest  in  her  latest  moments.  The  world  has  seldom  seen  such  a 
character — thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  will  have  reason,  living 
and  dying  to  bless  her  memory,  as  having  been  the  happy  instrument 
of  bringing  them  out  of  darkness  into  marvelous  light ;  and  multi- 
tudes saved  by  her  instrumentality,  have  met  in  the  regions  of  glory 
to  rejoice  together  in  the  presence  of  God  and  of  the  Lamb. 

But  it  may  be  said  by  some  was  she  a  perfect  character?  No.  This 
is  not  the  lot  of  mortals  on  this  side  of  the  grave.  When  the  moon 
walketh  in  her  brightness,  her  shadows  are  most  visible. 

Lady  Huntingdon  was  in  her  temper  warm  and  sanguine — her 
predilections  for  some,  and  her  prejudices  against  others,  were  some- 
times too  hastily  adopted — and  by  these  she  was  led  to  form  conclu- 
sions not  always  correspondent  with  truth  and  wisdom. 

The  success  attending  her  efforts  seemed  to  impress  her  mind 
with  a  persuasion,  that  a  particular  benediction  would  rest  upon 
whomsoever  she  should  send  forth,  and  rendered  her  choice  not  al- 
ways judicious ;  though  seldom  were  there  ever  less  offenses  in  so 
extended  a  work. 

She  had  so  long  directed  the  procedures  of  her  connexion,  that 
she  too  seldom  asked  the  advice  of  the  judicious  ministers  who  la- 
bored 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  Bu- 
chan,  and  to  the  two  famous  counselors  of  that  name.  These  la- 
dies, and  particularly  the  latter,  co-operated  with  the  Countess  in  net- 
work and  labor  of  Christian  love,  and  were  constantly  present  during 
her  last  illness. 

In  the  month  of  November  1790,  Lady  Huntingdon  broke  a 
blood  vessel,  which  was  the  commencement  of  her  last  illness.     On 


LADY    HUNTINGDON.  277 

being  then  asked  how  she  did,  by  Lady  Ann,  she  replied,  "  I  am 
well ;  all  is  well !  well  for  ever !  1  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  appear,  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  prisoner  of  hope  to  his  hold  ? — 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  ! — 
'Tis  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  devoted  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,  ve- 
rily :" — 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  foundation,  and 
would  find  nothing  in  the  best  works  of  his  best  days,  that  he  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  impa- 
tient ;  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 


278  MEMOIRS  OF 

prospect,  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  presence  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  mis- 
sionaries to  Tahiti.  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  influence  as  was  not  easily  to  be  described. 

An  abundant  entrance,  suitable  to  a  life  so  influenced,  was  minis- 
tered to  her  into  heaven  ;  for  almost  her  last  words  were,  "  My  work 
is  done,  I  have  nothing  to  do  but  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  clo- 
thed in  a  suit  of  white  silk,  with  the  same  head  dress  which  her  la- 
dyship usually  wore,  and  in  that  attire  was  buried  in  the  family  vault, 
at  Ashby-de-la-Zouch  in  Leicestershire :  her  funeral  sermon  was 
preached  at  Spa  Fields  Chapel,  on  the  Lord's  day,  July  3,  1791,  by 
the  Rev.  David  Jones  of  Langan,  on  Genesis  li.  24.  "  And  Joseph 
said  unto  his  brethren,  behold  I  die,   and  God  will  surely  visit  you." 

We  shall  subjoin  a  letter  respecting  Lady  Huntingdon  from  an 
excellent  judge,  Dr.  Lettsom,  who,  though  of  a  different  religious 
persuasion,  paid  a  just  tribute  to  her  memory.  The  letter  was  writ- 
ten on  occasion  of  her  death,  and  addressed  to  Lady  Ann  Erskine. 

"  Dear  Lady  A.  E. — I  deeply  sympathize  with  thee  and  all  the 
family  in  Christ,  in  the  removal  of  that  evangelic  woman  so  lately 
among  us,  the  Countess  of  Huntingdon.  Your  souls  were  so  united, 
and  your  affections  so  endeared  together,  that  I  cannot  but  feel  in  a 
particular  manner  on  thy  account,  lest  the  mournful  state  of  thy  mind 
may  undermine  thy  constitution,  and  endanger  a  life  spent  in  mitiga- 
ting the  painful  sufferings  of  body  of  our  deceased  friend  while  living. 
Her  advanced  age,  and  debilitated  frame,  had  long  prepared  my  mind 
for  an  event  which  has  at  length  deprived  the  world  of  its  brightest 
ornament.  How  often  have  we,  when  sitting  by  her  sick-bed,  wit- 
nessed the  faithful  composure  with  which  she  has  viewed  this  awful 
change  !  Not  with  the  fearful  prospect  of  doubt ;  not  with  the  dread- 
ful apprehension  of  the  judgment  of  an  offended  Creator.  Hers  was 
all  peace  within,  a  tranquillity  and  cheerfulness  which  conscious  accep- 
tance alone  could  convey.  How  often  have  we  seen  her,  elevated 
above  the  earth  and  earthly  things,  uttering  this  language  :  '  My  work 
is  done,  1  have  nothing  to  do  but  to  go  to  my  heavenly  Father.'  Let 
us,  therefore,  under  a  firm  conviction  of  her  felicity,  endeavor  to 
follow  her,  as  she  followed  her  Redeemer.  Let  us  be  thankful  that 
she  was  preserved  to  advanced  age  with  the  perfect  exercise  of  her 
mental  faculties  ;  and  that  under  long  and  painful  days  and  nights  of 


LADY    HUNTINGDON.  279 

sickness  she  never  repined,  but  appeared  constantly  animated  in 
prayer  and  thankfulness  for  the  unutterable  mercies  she  experienced. 
When  I  look  back  upon  the  last  years  of  my  attendance,  and  connect 
with  it  the  multitudes  of  others  whom  my  profession  has  introduced 
me  to,  I  feel  consolation  in  acknowledging,  that,  of  all  the  daughters 
of  affliction,  she  exhibited  the  greatest  degree  of  Christian  com- 
posure that  I  ever  witnessed  ;  and  that  submission  to  divine  allot- 
ment, however  severe  and  painful,  which  nothing  but  divine  aid  could 
inspire." 


280 


THE   RIGHT  HONORABLE 

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  enti- 
tled ;  "  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  instan- 
ces occur,  they  necessarily  stand  on  an  eminence,  and  engage  more 
particular  attention. 

The  noble  lady,  who  is  the  subject  of  this  Memoir,  was  the  daugh- 
ter of  the  Earl  of  Buchan,  by  a  lady  of  the  House  of  Stuart,  and 
the  eldest  of  a  numerous  family ;  some  of  the  branches  of  which, 
were  lately  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  names  of  Thomas  and  Henry 
Erskine  need  only  be  mentioned  to  be  universally  known  and  hon- 
ored. But  these  with  all  the  numerous  branches  of  the  house  of 
Buchan,  are  gathered  to  a  lamented  and  an  honored  tomb.  Such  is 
the  lot  of  mortality, — no  greatness  nor  excellence  can  stay  the  de- 
parting spirit !  Happy  are  they  who  are  always  waiting  their  appoint- 
ed change,  and  ready  to  welcome  it !  Surviving  relatives  have  a  pe- 
culiar call  to  remember,  what  we  are  all  so  ready  to  confess  and  to 
forget, — that  to  morrow  we  die  ! 

As  our  memorials  especially  embrace  the  faithful  in  Christ  Jesus, 
it  may  be  pleasing  to  remark,  that  the  great  grandfather  of  Lady  Ann 
was  a  man  of  distinguished  piety,  of  Kirkhill,  and  a  considerable  suf- 
ferer in  the  cause  of  religious  profession  in  the  days  of  Charles  the 
Second  :  and  as  the  names  of  Ralph  and  Ebenezer  Erskine  have  re- 
ceived a  stamp  of  especial  reverence  in  the  religious  world,  it  may 
not  be  uninteresting  to  observe,  that  they  were  (as  we  are  informed) 
branches  of  this  family ;  and  that  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  ;  and  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  retain- 


MEMOIRS,    &C  281 

ed;  and  at  times  prayed  with  fervor  and  feeling;  and,  as  she  then 
thought,  with  real  answers  to  her  prayer  in  repeated  instances,  hoth 
of  childish  infirmity  and  desires.  A  guitar,  which  she  preserved  to 
the  day  of  her  death,  and  sometimes  amused  her,  though  far  from  a 
proficient,  was  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  ?  and  a 
guitar  struck  her  mind,  though  she  had  never  learned,  nor  thought 
of  it  before  ;  and  she  prayed  this  might  be  brought  her.  Her  moth- 
er, 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  impression  that  there  was  a  God 
that  heard  and  answered  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  fol- 
lies, and  in  the  company  of  those  who  were  strangers  to  themselves, 
little  affected  about  the  eternal  world  into  which  they  were  going, 
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  to  Bath  ;  and  there  commenced  her  ac- 
quaintance with  the  great  and  excellent  Lady  Huntingdon,  whose  life 
was  spent  in  endeavoring  to  do  good ;  and  her  efforts  especially,  di- 
rected, at  that  time,  to  those  of  her  own  rank  and  station.  An  ac- 
quaintance formed  about  this  time  with  the  elder  branches  of  the 
Hawkstone  family,  eminent  for  their  excellence,  whom  she  visited, 
contributed  to  fix  the  sense  of  divine  truths  on  her  mind  ;  and  she 
became  a  professor  of  the  principles  of  evangelical  religion.  A  grow- 
ing intimacy  with  Lady  Huntingdon  contributed  to  confirm  her  mind; 
and  some  congeniality  of  spirit  probably  engaged  Lady  Huntingdon 
to  invite  Lady  Ann  to  be  with  her  as  her  friend  and  companion;  and 
as  this  was  equally  pleasing  to  both,  for  many  years  of  the  latter  part 
of  Lady  Huntingdon'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  that  good  lady  made  of  her  affairs 
to  such  as  she  thought  would  most  faithfully  pursue  the  line  she  had 
so  successfully  drawn. 

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  favored  with 
the  liberal  provision  which  her  predecessor  enjoyed,  and  which  died 

36 


282  MEMOIRS  OF 

with  her.  Indeed,  her  zeal  always  outran  her  income  ;  and  though 
no  person  ever  spent  so  little  on  herself  as  Lady  Huntingdon,  she 
left  such  incumbrances  as  her  estate  was  unequal  to  discharge,  un- 
less some  of  her  chapels  were  disposed  of.  These  incumbrances 
her  executors  and  other  friends  immediately  undertook  to  discharge, 
and  preserve  them  for  the  purposes  to  which  they  had  been  devoted. 
It  was  on  this  occasion  that  Lady  Ann  Erskine  was  called  forth  to  a 
more  distinguished  station  than  she  had  yet  filled. 

When  Lady  Huntingdon's  disposition  was  known,  a  consultation 
of  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 ;  they,  therefore,  de- 
sired her  to  occupy  part  of  Lady  Huntingdon's  house  in  Spa  Fields, 
and  be  in  constant  residence  there,  to  carry  on  all  the  needful  cor- 
respondence, which  was  indeed  immense,  always  advising  with  the 
trustees,  and  rendering  an  account  to  them,  when  required,  of  her 
procedure.  To  her,  with  Dr.  Ford  and  Mr.  Best,  therefore,  it  was 
agreed  the  administration  should  be  intrusted. 

Lady  Ann  now  became  the  prominent  person  ;  and  though  all  La- 
dy Huntingdon's  income  died  with  her,  and  Lady  Ann  possessed  a 
mere  pittance,  there  has  hitherto  appeared  no  lack  of  support  to  the 
cause.  By  wise  and  prudent  management,  the  places  have  not  only 
been  supported,  but  many  new  chapels,  raised,  and  a  considerable 
number  of  persons  in  addition  employed  ;  many  of  whom  come  from 
the  college  at  Cheshunt,  managed  by  trustees  united  with  the  con- 
nexion of  Lady  Huntingdon.  Indeed,  in  every  view,  Lady  Ann 
was  eminently  qualified  for  her  place,  not  only  by  an  intimate  knowl- 
edge of  the  manner  in  which  her  predecessor  moved,  but  by  a  meas- 
ure of  ability,  hereditary  in  the  family  of  Erskine,  as  well  as  a  devo- 
tedness  of  heart,  that  made  it  her  pleasure  to  undergo  any  labor  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,  will  witness  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  in  dealing  with  such 
a  number  of  persons  as  managers  of  places,  or  employed  in  itinera- 
ting, where,  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  dissatisfied,  to  whose  wishes  she  could  not  accord  ;  and  that 
others  slighted  her,  who  were  incompetent  judges  of  her  excellen- 
ces, 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  for  twelve  years  between  them ;  that  all  cordially  concurred 
in  one  great  object,  and  pursued  it  ardently ;  that  these  are  no  mean 
proof  of  a  Christian  spirit,  will  be  allowed  by  all  who  are  acquainted 
with  the  difficulties  to  be  encountered. 


LADY  ANN  AGNES  ERSKINE.  283 

That  during  these  last  twelve  years,  when  her  most  active  life 
commenced,  she  was  indefatigably  employed  in  the  work  of  God,  is 
known  beyond  all  contradiction.  Those  who  knew  her  best,  will 
witness  the  life  of  prayer  and  meditation  on  the  word  which  she  led. 
The  very  marks  in  her  Bible  will  speak  the  deep  attention  she  paid 
to  it.  Her  correspondence  was  immense.  Her  room  was  hardly  with- 
out visitors  from  morning  to  night,  giving  account  of  commissions  ful- 
filled, 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  scarcely  a  prospect  of  again  fil- 
ling with  like  activity  and  intelligence.  They  indeed  hoped  it  would 
be  very  distant ;  but  her  great  Master  ordained  otherwise. 

Her  conversation  was  always  heavenly ;  and,  speaking  of  God's 
dealings  with  her  own  soul,  none  could  express  a  deeper  and  hum- 
bler sense  of  her  own  unworthiness  and  nothingness.  Nothing  can 
speak  more  feelingly  in  this  respect  than  the  sentiment  she  uttered 
the  last  evening  of  her  life  :  "  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  :  hundreds 
are  living  witnesses,  that  if  they  were  not  the  wiser  and  better  for 
having  conversed  with  her,  they  must  be  much  to  blame,  and  will 
have  an  awful  account  to  make  for  abused  blessings.  Indeed  her 
whole  time  and  thoughts  seemed  to  be  engaged  in  endeavoring  to  fill 
her  place,  conscious  of  being  highly  honored  in  the  service,  and  feel- 
ing it  her  delight  as  well  as  duty  to  discharge  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  now  how  much  his  spirit  has  been  quickened  by  her  example 
and  converse.  She  was  placed  in  a  situation  of  some  considerable 
authority  ;  but  her  directions  were  counsels,  and  her  orders  entreat- 
ties.  She  is  gone  to  her  reward,  and  has  finished  her  course  with 
joy  ;  and  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. 

But  this  is  not  our  home,  nor  our  rest;  it  remaineth  in  a  better 
world  for  those  who  are  found  faithful  unto  death.  Lady  Ann  had, 
for  sometime,  complaints  wThich  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  labors,  yet  it  seemed  evident 
the  mortal  tabernacle  was  failing.  Her  constant  call  to  business  pre- 
cluded her  from  exercise  ;  and  the  stooping  to  write,  and  the  sed- 
entary life  she  led  for  weeks  together,  only  moving  from  her  room  to 
the  chapel,  increased  the  dropsical  tendency  to  which  she  had  been 
for  some  time  liable ;  and  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 


284  MEMOIRS;    &C. 

became  so  enlivened,  the  apprehensions  went  off;  and  seeing  it  so 
frequently  the  case,  led  to  hope  that  she  might  yet  prolong  her  course. 
Those  around  her  had  often  seen  her  apparently  worse,  and  more 
feeble,  than  on  the  day  preceding  her  dissolution. 

The  frame  of  her  mind  indeed  seemed  in  a  preparation  for  an 
eternal  world  ;  and  two  or  three  mornings  before  her  departure,  she 
came  much  refreshed  from  her  room,  and  said  to  a  friend  with  her, 
"  The  Lord  hath  met  me  this  morning  with  so  much  sweetness  of 
mind,  that  I  seemed  as  if  surrounded  of  God  :"  on  which  she  added, 
with  fervor,  "  My  Lord  and  my  God  !"  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  con- 
fidence in  him  :"  with  many  other  expressions  of  the  hope  that  maketh 
not  ashamed.  About  ten  she  took  her  usual  supper,  an  egg ;  and 
soon  after  retiring  to  bed,  took  a  composing  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  pro- 
moting a  good  night's  sleep,  and  restoring  her  strength  :  and  speak- 
ing to  her  attendant,  who  slept  in  the  room  with  her,  she  added,  "  How 
happy  am  I  that  my  soul  is  not  in  hell,  where  I  might  have  been  !" 
And  on  going  out  of  the  room,  Lady  Ann  added,  as  if  under  some 
doubt  and  difficulty,  "  The  Lord  will  reveal  himself  to  me  to-morrow !" 
The  person  asked  if  any  outward  matters  made  her  uneasy  ?  She  re- 
plied, "  No  in  those  respcts  I  am  perfectly  easy."  These  were  the 
last  words  she  was  heard  to  utter ;  and  lying  down  in  her  bed,  appa- 
rently fell  asleep.  About  five  o'clock  the  attendant  heard  her  cough 
slightly,  and  supposed  her  again  composed.  At  six  she  got  up ;  and 
going  to  her  bed-side,  saw  her  reposing,  her  head  on  her  hand,  and 
thought  her  asleep ; — on  a  nearer  approach,  it  was  the  sleep  of 
death ! 

So  finished  her  course  another  faithful  follower  of  the  Lamb  that 
was  slain ;  and  added  one  more  to  the  list  of  honorable  and  devout 
women,  whose  memory  is  deserving  of  being  held  in  everlasting  re- 
membrance. She  lived  to  the  age  of  sixty-five  years ;  more  than 
forty  of  which  she  had  spent  in  the  works  of  faith  and  labors  of  love, 


285 


LADY  GLENORCHY. 


Wilhelmina  Maxwell,  Viscountess  Glenorchy,  was  the 
younger  of  two  daughters  left  by  Dr.  William  Maxwell,  of  Preston, 
a  gentleman  of  high  respectability  and  large  fortune  in  Galloway, 
Scotland;  and  was  born  at  Preston,  September  2nd,  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,  called  the  fatherless  child,  Wilhelmina. 
She  watched  over  the  education  of  both  daughters  with  maternal 
solicitude,  and  endeavored  to  preserve  them  from  the  vortex  of  fash- 
ionable pleasure.  The  eldest  was  married  at  Edinburgh,  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  Viscount  plenorchy,  only  son  of  the  Earl  of  Breadal- 
bane. 

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  tal- 
ents, which  had  been  improved  by  a  liberal  and  expensive  education, 
she  combined  an  agreeable  person,  a  temper  vivacious  and  peculiarly 
formed  for  hilarity,  a  considerable  share  of  wit  and  pleasantry,  and 
every  accomplishment  which  could  render  her  an  object  of  admira- 
tion 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  Breadal- 
bane,  she  was  seized  with  a  dangerous  malignant  fever.  On  her 
convalescence,  a  train  of  serious  thoughts  and  reasonings  was  produ- 
ced, followed  by  convictions  and  purposes,  which  ended  in  a  com- 
plete renovation  of  heart  and  conduct.  She  had  been  taught  in  ear- 
ly youth  that  form  of  sound  words  which  is  contained  in  the  Assem- 
bly's Catechism  ;  and  now  the  first  question  and  answer  occurring  to 
her,  "  What  is  the  chief  end  of  man  ?" — "The  chief  end  of  man  is 
to  glorify  God,  and  to  enjoy  him  forever" — she  was  involuntarily  led 
to  muse  on  the  words,  and  to  put  to  herself  the  important  questions: 
Have  1  answered  the  design  of  my  being  ?  Have  1  glorified  God  ? 
Shall  1  enjoy  him  for  ever  ?  On  reviewing  her  life  of  thoughtless 
gayety,  she  could  come  to  no  other  conclusion   than   that  there  was 


286  MEMOIRS  OF 

no  connection  between  such  conduct,  and  the  glorifying  and  enjoying 
of  God,  and  that  consequently,  hitherto,  she  had  not  answered  the 
chief  end  of  her  existence.  The  result  will  best  be  given  in  her 
own  words,  as  contained  in  her  diary.  They  occur  in  the  memoran- 
dum made  on  her  first  birth  day  after  the  period  at  which  her  man- 
uscript commences. 

"  September  2. — I  desire  this  day  to  humble  myself  before  God, 
and  to  bless  him  as  my  Creator,  who  called  me  into  being  at  first ; 
who  hath  been  my  preserver  in  the  midst  of  many  dangers ;  and 
who  hath  ever  since  my  birth,  loaded  me  with  tender  mercies  and  fa- 
vors. 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  convic- 
tions 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  belonged  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  reflection,  my  ideas  of  God  were  confused 
and  full  of  terror :  I  saw  my  course  of  life  was  wrong,  but  had  not 
the  power  to  alter  it,  or  to  resist  the  torrent  of  fashionable  dissipation 
that  drew  me  along  with  it.  Sometimes  I  resolved  to  begin  a  godly 
life, — to  give  all  I  had  in  charity,  and  to  live  only  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  resolu- 
tions 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  Christ;  I  saw 
neither  form  nor  comeliness  in  him,  and  thought  it  would  have  been 
more  to  the  purpose,  had  they  told  us  what  we  should  do  to  inherit 
eternal  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  mar- 
vellous is  thy  grace,  O  Lord  !  to  pardon  such  a  worthless  creature, 
who  thus  depreciated  thy  great  sufferings  and  meritorious  death,  and 
endeavored  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  glo- 
ry. 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  will.  I  thought  I 
had  not  deserved  such  a  lot ; — and  thus  I  secretly  rebelled  against 
the  Lord.  About  this  time  I  got  acquainted  with  the  Hawkstone 
family,  some  of  whom  had  the  reputation  of  being  Methodists.     1 


LADY    GLENORCHY.  287 

liked  their  company  and  wished  to  be  as  religious  as  they  were, 
being  convinced  that  they  were  right ;  but  still  I  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  favo- 
rite amusements.  The  Lord  however  followed  me  with  convictions. 
My  own  thoughts  became  very  uneasy  to  me,  the  burden  of  my  mis- 
fortunes intolerable.  My  health  and  spirits  at  last  sunk  under  them 
and  for  some  time  before  I  left  off  going  to  public  amusements, 
(where  I  appeared  outwardly  gay  and  cheerful,)  my  heart  was  in- 
wardly torn  with  anguish  and  inexpressible  grief.  The  enemy  now 
suggested  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  wis- 
dom, which  hitherto  had  kept  me  within  some  bounds.  To  the  best 
of  my  remembrance  it  was  the  very  same  night  on  which  the  thought 
was  suggested,  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  ?  as  if  some  one  had  asked  it.  When  I  con- 
sidered the  answer  to  it,  To  glorify  God  and  enjoy  him  forever,  I 
was  struck  with  shame  and  confusion.  I  found  1  had  never  sought 
to  glorify  God  in  my  life,  nor  had  any  idea  of  what  was  meant  by 
enjoying  him  forever.  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  dis- 
tress, 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  im- 
mediately 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  sal- 
vation, and  not  suffer  me  to  be  led  into  error.  One  day  in  particu- 
lar I  took  the  Bible  into  my  hands,  and  fell  upon  my  knees  before 
God,  beseeching  him  with  much  importunity  to  reveal  his  will  to  me 
by  his  word.  My  mouth  wras  filled  with  arguments,  and  I  was  en- 
abled 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 


288  MEMOIRS  OF 

Bible  then  in  my  hands,  and  read  part  of  third  chapter  of  the  Epistle 
to  the  Romans,  where  our  state  by  nature,  and  the  way  of  redemp- 
tion through  a  propitiatory  sacrifice  are  clearly  set  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  ap- 
peared to  me  as  a  refuge,  and  I  was  glad  to  flee  to  him  as  my  only 
hope.  This  was  in  the  summer  of  1765.  Since  that  time,  I  have 
had  many  ups  and  downs  in  my  Christian  course,  but  have  never 
lost  sight  of  Jesus  as  the  Savior  of  the  world  though  I  have  often  had 
my  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  acquain- 
tances, 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  accept  of  my  soul,  body,  reputation,  property  and  influence, 
and  every  thing  that  is  called  mine,  and  do  with  them  whatever 
seemeth  good  in  thy  sight.  I  desire  neither  ease,  health  nor  pros- 
perity, 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  suffi- 
cient for  me,  and  enable  me  to  overcome  the  world.  And  to  thee 
be  ascribed  the  honor  and  glory,  now  and  forevermore.  Amen  and 
amen." 

Great  Sugnal  in  Staffordshire,  where  Lord  and  Lady  Glenorchy 
sometimes  resided,  is  at  no  great  distance  from  Hawkstone ;  and 
the  families  had  by  means  of  this  nearness  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  by  a  religious  character,  from  the 
thoughtless,  the  formal  and  the  profligate.  Lady  Glenorchy  was  not 
yet  twenty  four,  and  Miss  Hill  not  much  older,  when  by  this  corres- 
pondence, their  slight  intimacy  was  ripened  into  a  warm  and  perma- 
nent friendship.  Nothing  could  be  more  judicious,  faithful  and  af- 
fectionate, 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  feel- 
ings 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  conferr- 
ing with  flesh  and  blood  Lady  Glenorchy  resolutely  turned  her  back 
on  the  dissipated  world,  and  devoted  herself,  and  all  that  she  could 
command  or  influence,  without  reserve,  to  the  service  of  her  Re- 


LADY    GLENORCHY.  289 

deemer,  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  prob- 
ably destroyed  by  Miss  Hill,  who  survived  her  only  a  few  years,  on 
account  of  their  containing  much  delicate  communication. 

Lady  Glenorchy  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  stedfastness. 
We  find  Miss  Hill,  in  one  of  her  letters,  congratulating  her  on  the 
resolution  and  fortitude  she  had  displayed  in  resisting  all  invitations 
to  places  of  public  amusement  at  Bath,  from  a  consciousness  of  the 
great  danger  she  was  in  of  being  again  entangled  with  the  world. 
Lord  Breadalbane,  her  father  in  law,  though  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  do- 
mestic trials.  The  loss  of  her  only  sister  Lady  Sutherland  in  1766, 
must  have  been  aggravated  by  the  melancholy  circumstances  attend- 
ing it.  The  death  of  their  eldest  daughter  had  so  deeply  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  ar- 
rival, his  Lordship  was  seized  with  a  malignant  fever,  with  which  he 
struggled  with  for  fifty  four  days  and  then  expired.  The  first  twenty 
one  days  and  nights  his  Countess  never  left  his  bed  side ;  but  at 
length  overcome  with  fatigue  and  anxiety,  she  sunk  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  standing.  On  inquiring  whose  remains  they 
contained,  she  was  told  they  were  those  of  Lord  and  Lady  Suther- 
land, on  their  way  to  the  royal  chapel  of  Holyrood  house,  Edinburgh. 

The  winter  of  1766,  7,  Lady  Glenorchy  passed  in  the  country, 
at  a  distance  from  all  her  religious  friends,  deprived  of  almost  every 
outward  means  of  religious  instruction  and  comfort;  and  exposed 
thus  singly  to  all  the  odium  and  unkind  accusation  which  the  singu- 
larity of  consistent  piety  never  fails  to  provoke.  Every  effort  ap- 
pears to  have  been  made  to  reason  or  laugh  her  out  of  her  convic- 
tions. She  was  charged  with  hypocrisy  and  superstition  ;  and  she 
felt  these  reproaches  with  an  acuteness  which  occasioned  the  most 
poignant  distress.  Her  health  appears  at  length  to  have  been  affec- 
ted by  the  conflict  of  her  feelings.  But  her  mild  perseverance  and 
resignation  appear  to  have  met  with  thei  reward.  She  never  lost 
her  influence  over  Lord  Glenorchy,  and  at  length  obtained  his  tacit 

37 


290  MEMOIRS    OF 

acquiescence  in  her  plans.  On  her  return  to  Taymouth,  in  the 
summer  of  1767,  she  frequently  invited  clergymen  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  neighbors  as 
chose  to  attend.  When  in  Edinburgh,  she  formed  one  of  a  select 
religious  party,  who  used  to  meet  at  first  in  each  other's  houses,  and 
afterwards  at  the  house  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Walker,  then  senior  minis- 
ter of  the  High  Church  at  Edinburgh,  and  colleague  to  the  celebra- 
ted Dr.  Blair.  Among  the  distinguished  ladies  who  used  to  assemble 
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  expounded  the  Scriptures,  or  delivered  a  sermon ;  and  these 
meetings  were  continued  weekly  by  him  to  the  close  of  his  life. 

It  was  about  this  period,  probably  at  these  meetings,  that  Lady 
Glenorchy  contracted  that  intimacy  with  Lady  Maxwell,  which  con- 
tinued unbroken  to  the  close  of  her  life.  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  that  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  Episcopal 
chapel  at  Dalkeith. 

It  was  Lady  Glenorchy's  intention,  that  Divine  service  should  be 
performed  on  Sunday  evenings,  alternately  or  indifferently  by  Pres- 
byterian 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  officiate,  however,  in 
the  nature  of  things  never  could  coalesce.  Large  congregations 
were  collected,  and  good  was  done  to  individuals ;  but  the  design 
which  at  that  time  was  quite  novel  in  Scotland  met  with  much  disap- 
probation from  the  religious  public. 

The  ministers  of  the  Established  (Presbyterian)  Church,  refused 
to  preach  in  it,  on  account  of  the  admission  of  Mr.  Wesley's  preach- 
ers who  were  by  no  means  generally  acceptable.  And  at  length  soon 
after  the  Rev.  Mr.  De  Courcy  had  accepted  the  appointment  of  do- 
me**.ic  chaplain  to  Lord  Glenorchy  and  minister  of  the  chapel,  her 
ladyship  gave  up  all  connection  with  the  Wesleyan  preachers. 

In  the  year  1771,  Lady  Glenorchy  became  a  widow.  Lord  Glen- 
orchy had  been  seized  with  a  fit  in  October  of  that  year  ;  alarming 
symptoms  returned  in  the  beginning  of  November,  and  on  the  elev- 
enth, 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  labored  to 


LADY    GLENORCHY.  291 

impress  his  mind,  had  not  been  lost  upon  him.  Nothing  could  show 
more  unequivocally  his  Lordship's  confidence  in  her,  and  his  affec- 
tionate sense  of  her  real  worth,  notwithstanding  any  difference  in 
their  religious  views,  than  the  disposition  which  he  had  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  oth- 
er lands,  and  all  things  belonging  to  him,  in  full  right,  constituting 
her  sole  executrix  and  legatee  ;  with  full  power  to  convert  the  whole 
into  money,  and  to  employ  or  bestow  the  whole  or  any  part  "  for  en- 
couraging the  preaching  of  the  gospel,  and  promoting  the  knowledge 
of  the  Protestant  religion,  erecting  schools,  and  civilizing  the  inhab- 
itants in  Breadalbane,  Glenorchy  and  Netherhouse,  or  other  parts  of 
the  Highlands  of  Scotland,"  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  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  erec- 
tion of  a  chapel  at  Edinburgh,  which  she  designed  to  be  in  commu- 
nion 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  additional  means  of  religious  instruction,  her 
ladyship  lost  no  time  in  repairing  the  chapel  there,  endowing  it,  and 
placing  it  under  the  patronage  of  the  Society  in  Scotland,  for  propo- 
gating  Christian  knowledge.  The  chapel  still  remains  and  continues 
to  be  useful.  She  also  procured  two  missionary  preachers  of  the 
Scottish  establishment,  under  the  sanction  of  the  same  society,  to  go 
at  her  own  expense  through  the  Highlands  and  Islands  of  Scotland. 

The  state  of  her  health  rendering  it  necessary  for  her  to  pass  the 
winter  in  a  warmer  climate,  she  spent  the  close  of  1776,  and  a  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 
spread  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  labors  of  benevolence 
and  works  of  charity.     Though  an  invalid  like  herself,  Lady  Hen- 


292  MEMOIRS    OF 

rietta's  happy  temper,  prudence  and  sagacity,  rendered  her  society 
an  invaluable  acquisition  to  her  friend.  In  passing  through  Carlisle 
that  year,  on  her  way  to  Buxton,  observing  an  old  Presbyterian 
church  shut  up,  Lady  Glenorchy,  after  due  inquiry,  purchased  and 
endowed  it,  taking  care  to  provide  an  evangelical  minister.  The 
church  has  since  been  enlarged  and  continues  to  flourish.  Some 
years  after,  being  compelled  to  remain  at  Matlock  over  Sunday,  in 
consequence  of  her  carriage  having  broken  down,  she  found  the 
state  of  religion  in  that  village,  on  inquiry,  very  low,  and  immedi- 
ately determined  on  the  purchase  of  a  chapel  and  house  adjoining, 
which  she  ultimately  accomplished.  This  chapel  ha§  also  been  the 
means  of  much  good  to  the  neighborhood.  Hope  chapel,  erected  at 
Bristol  Hot  wells,  was  undertaken  at  the  joint  expense  of  Lady  Glen- 
orchy and  Lady  Henrietta  Hope  :  but  the  latter  did  not  live  to  see 
her  design  carried  into  execution.  She  bequeathed  £2500,  how- 
ever for  this  purpose,  and  Lady  Glenorchy  gave  it  that  name  in 
memory  of  her  friend  regarding  it  as  her  most  suitable  monument. 
Lady  Glenorchy  appears  also  to  have  been  instrumental  in  opening 
a  place  of  worship  somewhere  in  Devonshire. 

She  also  built  a  manufactory  for  the  employment  of  the  poor, 
where  the  education  of  children  was  strictly  attended  to  :  even  the 
porter's  lodges  on  each  side  of  her  gate  were  occupied  as  schools 
for  the  neighboring  poor.  Her  pleasure-grounds  were  thrown  open 
for  the  accommodation  of  the  numbers  who  usually  come  from  a  dis- 
tance to  attend  a  communion  season  in  Scotland.  In  a  year  of  scar- 
city the  same  grounds  were  planted  with  potatoes  for  the  supply  of 
the  poor.  She  distributed  with  great  judgment  various  sums  of  mon- 
ey in  aid  of  families  who  were  poor,  yet  deserving.  She  never  en- 
couraged idleness  or  pride,  and  often  remarked  that  it  was  better  to 
assist  people  to  do  well  in  the  sphere  which  Providence  has  assigned 
them,  than  to  attempt  to  raise  them  beyond  it.  There  was  so  much 
wisdom  in  the  active  application  of  her  benevolent  charities,  as  to 
render  them  both  efficient  and  extensive.  She  seldom  was  seen  in 
these  works  of  beneficence  ;  her  object  was  to  do  good  :  the  grati- 
tude of  those  on  whom  she  bestowed  benefits,  was  no  part  of  her  mo- 
tive, or  even  of  her  calculation.  What  she  did,  she  did  unto  God, 
and  in  obedience  to  his  commands  :  her  faith  and  hope  were  in 
God.  She  contributed  largely  to  the  public  spirited  Institutions  es- 
tablished at  Edinburgh  in  her  day.  One  or  two  of  the  most  useful 
she  was  the  first  to  suggest  the  idea  of,  always  accompanying  her 
recommendation  with  a  handsome  donation  in  money  to  encourage 
the  work. 

She  indulged  the  hope  of  seeing  a  union  of  exertion  amongst  all 
Christian  denominations,  for  sending  the  Gospel  to  the  Heathen. 
How  delighted  would  she  have  been  with  the  Missionary  Societies 
of  London  and  elsewhere,  had  her  life  been  spared  to  behold  their 
extensive  operations !  She  sold  her  estate  of  Barnton,  that  she  might 


LADY   GLENORCHY.  293 

apply  the  money  to  a  more  disinterested  object  than  her  personal  ac- 
commodation, and  that  her  fortune  might  be  expended  with  her  life. 
"  I  recollect  here,"  said  Saurin  in  one  of  bis  sermons,  "  an  epitaph 
said  to  be  engraven  on  the  tomb  of  Atolus  of  Rheims :  He  export- 
ed his  fortune  before  him  into  Heaven  by  his  charities — he  is  gone 
thither  to  enjoy  it."  This  might  be  truly  said  of  lady  Glenorcby. 
In  her  manners  she  discovered  great  dignity  of  character  tempered 
with  the  meekness  and  benevolence  of  the  Gospel.  Her  family  was 
arranged  with  much  economy,  and  a  strict  regard  to  moral  and  reli- 
gious habits.  She  usually  supported  some  promising  and  pious  young 
minister  as  her  chaplain,  which  served  him  as  an  introduction  to  res- 
pectability in  the  church.  With  very  few  exceptions,  all  those  who 
entered  her  family  as  servants,  were  in  the  process  of  time  brought 
under  religious  impressions.  So  far  it  pleased  the  Lord  to  honor  her 
pious  endeavors  to  render  her  family  one  of  the  dwellings  of  the  God 
of  Jacob. 

She  carried  on  an  extensive  correspondence  with  the  agents  of 
her  charities  in  various  places,  as  well  as  with  characters  in  the  high- 
est walks  of  life.  The  late  celebrated  William  Pitt,  whom  she  had 
known  when  a  boy,  was  pleased  with  her  letters,  and  replied  in  the 
most  respectful  terms  to  the  counsel  which  she  at  times  had  given 
him,  on  the  higher  concerns  of  his  spiritual  and  eternal  welfare. 

Lady  Glenorchy  had  drawn  much  information  concerning  the  most 
useful  subjects,  from  reading,  from  conversation,  and  correspondence 
with  a  numerous  circle  of  worthy  friends,  and  from  acute  observation 
of  what  passed  within  and  around  her.  She  entered  into  conversa- 
tion with  much  affability,  and  communicated  ideas  with  uncommon 
perspicuity  and  readiness.  The  vivacity  of  her  temper,  the  justness 
and  sweetness  of  her  remarks,  could  not  fail  to  render  her  compa- 
ny acceptable  to  any  society.  But  important  obligations  of  a  spirit- 
ual kind  afforded  her  little  leisure  or  inclination  for  mixed  company. 
Her  courage  in  avowing  and  endeavoring  to  promote  on  every  occa- 
sion an  attachment  to  the  Gospel,  was  truly  admirable.  None  had 
more  boldness,  nor  more  ability  in  introducing  religious  discourse, 
and  directing  the  attention  of  those  with  whom  she  conversed  to  sub- 
jects that  were  spiritual  and  edifying.  None  could  sit  for  any  time 
at  her  table,  or  in  her  company,  without  hearing  some  truths,  which 
might  be  profitable  to  their  souls.  In  her,  religion  wore  no  morose 
or  forbidding  appearance.  Her  temper  was  cheerful,  her  conversa- 
tion and  manners,  though  remote  from  the  dissipation  of  the  age,  ex- 
hibited piety  in  a  pleasing  form,  and  conveyed  the  idea  that,  "  Wis- 
dom's ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  that  all  her  paths  are  paths 
of  peace."  She  was  indeed  an  enemy  to  the  theatre,  cards,  and 
some  other  amusements,  in  which  multitudes  waste  much  precious 
time.  She  spoke  from  experience  of  their  hurtfulness  to  our  best 
interests  :  she  thought  it  her  duty  to  warn  others  of  their  danger,  and 
to  urge  them  to  employ  their  time  in  a  manner  more  suitable  for  im- 


294  MEMOIRS    OF 

mortal  creatures,  more  improving  to  themselves,  and  more  useful  to 
society. 

Those  who  have  had  opportunity  to  see  any  of  her  ladyship's  let- 
ters or  writings,  know  with  what  facility  and  propriety  she  expressed 
herself.  She  had  those  abilities  as  a  writer,  which  qualified  her  not 
only  for  being  an  improving  private  correspondent,  but  conveying 
useful  instruction  to  the  public,  though  modesty  restrained  the  free 
use  of  her  pen  for  this  purpose.  While  backward  in  this  respect  her- 
self, she  exerted  her  influence  with  success  in  exciting  her  friends  to 
publish  religious  tracts,  that  were  adapted  to  the  times  and  calculated 
for  public  usefulness.  She  often  defrayed  the  expense  of  them  in 
whole  or  in  part,  gave  them  in  presents  to  her  friends  and  the  poor, 
and  was  at  much  pains  to  promote  their  extensive  circulation  and  util- 
ity. At  her  desire  and  expense  was  composed  and  published  a  Gael- 
ic translation  of  "Alleine's  Alarm  to  the  Unconverted,"  which  has 
been  highly  useful  in  the  Highlands,  as  the  original  work  has  been  to 
many  in  other  places. 

She  has  been  often  heard  to  say  that  she  considered  herself  as  a 
steward  of  the  gifts  of  God,  and  as  accountable  for  the  discharge  of 
the  important  trust  committed  to  her.  Her  life  indeed  was  spent  un- 
der the  influence  of  this  important  truth.  She  considered  her  for- 
tune and  her  possessions  not  as  her  own,  but  God's,  and  to  be  em- 
ployed for  his  glory.  She  retrenched  many  personal  expenses,  and 
denied  herself  those  luxuries  which  were  likely  to  interfere  with  her 
schemes  of  doing  good.  It  was  to  enlarge  the  sphere  of  her  use- 
fulness, that  she  disposed  of  a  considerable  landed  property,  of  the 
beauties  of  which  she  was  abundantly  sensible  :  and  arranged  her  af- 
fairs for  carrying  on  with  success,  after  her  decease,  those  useful  de- 
signs, in  the  prosecution  of  which  her  life  was  employed. 

Her  charities  were  very  extensive,  but  many  of  them  were  distrib- 
uted with  such  secrecy,  that  the  benefactress  could  hardly  be  traced. 
She  sometimes  expended  hundreds  of  pounds  in  relieving  indigence, 
and  placing  the  families  of  those  of  the  household  of  faith  in  situations 
of  comfort  and  usefulness. 

Her  ladyship's  attention  was  much  directed  to  the  most  useful  of 
all  charities,  the  religious  education  of  youth.  For  this  purpose  she 
employed  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.  Ma- 
ny of  them  are  already  doing  honor  to  their  noble  benefactress,  and 
teachers  in  different  departments.  Some  of  them,  we  trust,  are  reap- 
ing the  happy  fruits  of  a  pious  education  in  the  heavenly  state.  And 
many,  very  many  indigent  youth  shall,  we  hope,  be  educated  by  the 
means  which  she  has  provided,  for  serving  God  and  their  generation 
faithfully,  in  this  age  and  in  future  times. 

In  private,  the  widow  and  the  fatherless,  the  stranger  and  the  dis- 
tressed, experienced  her  abundant  beneficence.     To  enable  her  to 


LADY    GLENORCHY.  295 

prosecute  these  schemes  of  benevolence,  she  herself  carefully  look- 
ed into  all  her  affairs,  and  studied  the  strictest  economy  :  and  though 
her  dress,  her  table,  her  attendants,  her  equipage,  always  correspon- 
ded to  her  station ;  yet  she  denied  herself  the  splendor  which  her 
fortune  and  rank  could  well  have  afforded  and  excused. 

Deeply  was  Lady  Glenorchy  sensible  of  the  necessity  of  watchful- 
ness and  prayer,  and  spent  much  of  her  time  in  the  duties  of  secret 
devotion.  She  was  careful  to  have  her  servants,  duly  instructed  in 
religion,  as  well  as  the  worship  of  God  regularly  maintained  in  her 
family.  She  failed  not  to  give  her  frequent  advice  and  assistance 
to  all  under  her  roof,  as  to  the  concerns  of  their  souls  and  eternity. 
She  was  never  absent  from  the  devotions  of  the  family,  nor  from  the 
public  ordinances  of  religion,  when  health  permitted.  Indeed  from 
these,  when  dispensed  by  faithful  ministers,  she  derived  the  highest 
delight,  and  under  the  increasing  infirmities  of  a  valetudinary  consti- 
tution, she  felt  the  animating  hopes  and  consolations  which  religion 
inspires. 

Her  breast  glowed  with  the  most  fervent  love  to  the  divine  Re- 
deemer of  a  lost  world.  His  unparalleled  condescension  and  grace 
were  the  favorite  subjects  of  her  attention  and  discourse.  She 
thought  she  could  never  do  enough  to  testify  her  gratitude  to  this 
most  generous  benefactor,  and  her  attachment  to  the  gospel.  It  was 
this  principle,  which  excited  an  affectionate  concern  and  many  kind 
endeavors  for  her  relations  and  friends.  It  was  this  motive,  which 
influenced  her  to  devote  her  substance  to  the  purposes  of  piety  and 
beneficence.  It  was  this  which  induced  her  to  erect  the  commodi- 
ous chapel  in  Edinburgh,  where  some  hundred  poor  persons  are 
properly  accomodated  gratis  for  hearing  the  gospel,  as  well  as  fur- 
nished with  alms  to  alleviate  the  calamities  of  poverty,  sickness,  and 
declining  age.  It  was  love  to  Jesus  and  to  the  souls  of  men,  which 
influenced  her  to  build  or  purchase  chapels  in  different  places,  and  to 
make  a  suitable  provision  for  the  faithful  administration  of  the  ordi- 
nances of  the  gospel.  In  short,  this  was  the  grand  governing  impulse 
of  all  her  godly  and  benevolent  exertions. 

Lady  Glenorchy  knew  the  world  too  well,  not  to  expect  its  hatred 
and  reproach  for  a  zealous  and  consistent  profession  of  the  gospel ; 
but  her  natural  fortitude,  and  greatness  of  soul,  and  the  force  of  reli- 
gion on  her  heart,  rendered  this  of  small  consequence  in  her  estima- 
tion :  more  than  most  Christians,  she  gloried  in  the  cross  of  Christ. 
The  falsehood  and  ill  nature  which  for  some  time  were  propagated 
against  her,  she  made  the  subject  of  the  most  refined  and  innocent 
pleasantry. 

We  intend  not,  however,  to  hold  forth  Lady  Glenorchy's  character 
as  a  perfect  one.  She  had  doubtless  her  infirmities,  as  well  as  others. 
Her  natural  temper  was  quick,  and  at  times  she  seemed  to  feel  too 
sensibly  her  own  importance.  But  her  ladyship's  weaknesses,  which 
she  readily  acknowledged,  were  few  and  inconsiderable,  when  com- 


296  memoirs,  he. 

pared  with  her  virtues,  or  with  the  imperfections  in  the  bulk  of  pro- 
fessors. The  age  has  scarcely  exhibited  a  character  more  exempla- 
ry, or  a  life  more  useful.  Indeed  so  excellent  a  character,  such  a 
union  of  ability  and  will  to  do  good,  has  seldom  been  seen  in  any  age. 

Full  of  plans  for  the  glory  of  God,  and  the  good  of  men,  and 
busy  in  the  prosecution  of  them,  this  excellent  lady  arrived  in  Edin- 
burgh from  Bath,  where  she  had  spent  the  winter,  in  the  beginning 
of  the  summer  1786.  Her  friends  observed,  with  concern,  her  de- 
clining state  of  health.  She  spoke  much  to  them  of  death,  and  of 
her  persuasion  that,  to  her,  it  was  near ;  and  uniformly  expressed 
her  satisfaction  and  joy  at  the  prospect.  Her  conversation  was 
nevertheless  as  easy,  pleasant,  and  cheerful  as  ever.  Religion,  in 
her,  was  not  the  production  of  gloom,  either  during  the  progress  of 
life,  or  in  the  near  views  of  its  termination.  On  the  14th  of  July,  she 
was  seized  with  the  first  symptoms  of  an  alarming  illness.  In  the 
forenoon  of  the  following  day,  the  curtains  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  most  of  the  following  day,  till,  near  noon  of  the 
next,  she  expired,  in  the  forty-fourth  year  of  her  age,  at  the  house  of  the 
Countess  of  Sutherland,  George's  square,  Edinburgh,  on  Monday 
the  17th  of  July  1786.  Of  her  may  be  said  in  truth,  what  with 
equal  propriety  cannot  be  said  of  every  departed  Christian,  "  her 
path  was  as  the  shining  light,  which  shineth  more  and  more  to  the 
perfect  day." 

Her  life  we  bewail  as  short,  but  her  attainments  and  usefulness 
were  much  greater  than  many  christians  have  reached  in  double  her 
age.  In  the  best  sense  of  the  phrase,  Lady  Glenorchy  lived  fast,  as 
she  was  eager  to  redeem  time  for  the  most  valuable  purposes.  She 
had  a  mind  uncommonly  active,  and  was  fervent  in  spirit,  serving  the 
Lord.  This  angelic  woman  often  said,  that  the  first  question  in  the 
Assembly's  Catechism  with  the  answer,  which  had  been  the  mean 
of  exciting  her  serious  attention,  was  a  strong  spur  to  her  in  a  re- 
ligious course. 

Lady  Glenorchy  was  interred,  July  24th,  agreeably  to  her  own  re- 
quest, in  a  vault  in  the  centre  of  her  chapel,  Edinburgh.  Next 
Lord's-day,  two  funeral  sermons  were  preached  in  her  ladyship's 
chapel  to  a  very  crowded  and  sorrowful  audience  ;  the  one  by  the 
Rev.  T.  S.  Jones,  the  pastor  of  that  church — and  the  other  by  the 
Rev.  Dr.  Andrew  Hunter,  professor  of  divinity  in  the  university  of 
Edinburgh.  Mr.  Jones  chose  for  his  subject,  Luke  xii.  42 — 48, 
"  And  the  Lord  said,  who  is  that  faithful  and  wise  steward  ?"  Sic. 
Dr.  Hunter's  text  was  equally  suitable,  and  was  taken  from  PsaL  xii. 
1.     "Help,  Lord,"  he. 


297 


LADY  HENRIETTA   HOPE. 


La.dy  Henrietta  Hope,  whose  name  is  mentioned  in  the  preceding 
memoir,  was  the  third  daughter  of  John,  Earl  of  Hopetoun. 

There  can  hardly  be  a  stronger,  and  certainly  not  so  amiable  a 
criterion  of  a  person's  worth  and  good  qualities,  as  his  being  the 
object  of  general  affection  and  esteem  in  the  particular  place  of  his 
habitual  residence.  Estimating  by  this  rule,  Lady  Henrietta  Hope 
possessed  indisputable  pretensions  to  the  most  favorable  representa- 
tion ;  for  she  was  universally  beloved  by  all  around  her  where  she 
resided.  This  affection  from  superiors  and  inferiors,  is  a  circum- 
stance always  honorable,  and  rendered  peculiarly  so  in  some  situ- 
ations. 

Lady  Henrietta  Hope  was  formed  for  eminence.  Possessed  of 
a  strong,  clear  understanding,  and  sound  judgment ;  much  improved 
by  reading,  conversation,  deep  thought  and  observation,  she  gave 
early  presages  of  proving  highly  useful  and  ornamental  to  society,  if 
permitted  to  see  those  years  necessary  for  maturing  the  powers  of 
the  human  mindl  and  the  great  expectations  formed  by  her  friends 
were  not  disappointed.  She  possessed  the  nicest  moral  sense,  a 
heart  for  friendship,  a  keen  sensibility  of  human  pain,  with  an  un- 
ceasing desire  to  relieve  or  at  least  alleviate  in  every  possible  way, 
the  numerous  distresses  of  her  fellow  creatures. 

Yet,  though  favored  with  a  mind  thus  enriched  with  every  virtue 
of  the  moral  character,  united  to  the  most  amiable  disposition  and 
engaging  manners,  it  was  not  till  her  twenty  fifth  year  that  Lady  Hen- 
rietta Hope  began  to  inquire  about  the  great  realities  of  eternity. 
At  that  time  an  impression  concerning  the  one  thing  needful  was 
made  upon  her  mind,  which  never  afterwards  was  effaced.  Her 
own  words  upon  this  subject,  at  that  memorable  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  and  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  tempta- 
tions, 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  !" 

Being  thus  brought  from  darkness  to  light,  and  her  mind  relieved 
from  anxiety  respecting  her  own  state,  the  language  of  her  heart  was 
that  of  the  royal  Psalmist :  "  What  shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord  ?" 
Believing  it  her  duty,  and  viewing  it  as  her  privilege,  she  made  an 
entire  dedication  of  herself,  with  all  she  had,  or  ever  should  stand 

38 


298  MEMOIRS  OF 

possessed  of,  to  that  great  and  gracious  Being,  who  had  dealt  so 
bountifully  with  her.  Nor  did  she  ever  breathe  a  wish  to  recall  the 
solemn  deed  :  no,  the  residue  of  her  life,  by  its  uniform  tenor,  pro- 
ved the  sacrifice  not  only  sincere,  but  universal,  in  so  far  as  her  situ- 
ation would  permit. 

The  deepest  humility  marked  Lady  Henrietta  Hope's  character, 
almost  to  excess.  From  principle  she  courted  the  shade ;  though 
her  mind,  formed  by  natural  and  acquired  abilities,  fitted  her  for 
shining  as  a  bright  example  of  the  transforming  power  of  sovereign 
grace,  united  to  every  requisite  for  filling  the  most  useful  station  in 
the  Christian  line.  From  this  excess  of  the  most  amiable  virtue,  the 
public  eye  discovered  but  a  few  of  the  numerous  instances  of  her 
generous  and  judicious  exertions  for  the  cause  of  religion  in  particu- 
lar, and  the  general  good  of  her  fellow  creatures  at  large,  as  she  usu- 
ally acted  through  the  medium  of  others,  who  she  believed  (from 
overrating  their  abilities  as  she  depreciated  her  own)  were  better 
qualified  to  appear  on  the  stage  of  life,  as  the  witnesses  of  Jesus ; 
but,  though  unknown  to  many,  they  are  ail  noted  in  the  divine  records 
and  will,  ere  long,  be  read  aloud  before  the  assembled  world. 

Suffice  to  say,  Lady  Henrietta  Hope,  on  many  occasions,  united 
with  others,  and  gave  largely  both  of  judicious  counsel  and  pecuniary 
aid,  towards  erecting  chapels,  building  schools,  and  endowing  them, 
together  with  extensive  (both  occasional  and  stated)  provision  for  the 
poor  and  distressed  of  every  description  ;  while  she  used  her  influ- 
ence with  those  in  the  higher  walks  of  life,  to  gain  them  over  to  the 
interests  of  vital,  experimental  religion  :  for  which  she  was  well  qual- 
ified, not  only  as  holding  forth  by  example  the  word  of  life  in  the 
most  amiable  light,  but  also  from  a  thorough  acquaintance  with  the 
doctrinal  and  preceptive  parts  of  the  holy  religion  she  professed,  to- 
gether with  no  inconsiderable  degree  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  soft- 
ness 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  apos- 
tle, "  the  substance  of  things  hoped  for,  the  evidence  of  things  not 
seen."  Yet  the  divine  blessing  often  renders  effectual  the  feeble  at- 
tempts of  Christians  to  effect  this  great  purpose ;  and  there  is  rea- 
son to  believe  this  eminent  servant  of  God  did  not  labor  in  vain.  If 
to  what  is  already  said  of  this  amiable  lady,  we  add,  her  unwearied 
attention  to  every  relative  duty,  her  faithful  discharge  of  every  trust 
reposed  in  her,  we  must  say,  the  portrait  is  pleasing,  the  character 
exemplary. 

But  as  no  degree  of  moral  excellence,  or  strength  of  grace,  can 
procure  the  Christian  an  exemption  from  trials  in  this  probationary 
state.   Lady  Henrietta  Hope3  though  possessed  of  the  favor  of  her 


LADY    HENRIETTA    HOPE.  299 

God,  the  esteem  of  the  world,  the  affection  of  her  relations,  and 
the  love  of  her  Christian  friends,  yet  suffered  much  in  the  last  years 
of  her  life,  from  a  very  delicate  frame,  which  gave  rise  to  many  dis- 
tressing complaints;  all  which  she  endured  with  that  calm  fortitude 
and  unbroken  resignation,  that  nothing  but  true  religion  can  inspire. 

In  autumn  1785,  Lady  Henrietta  Hope  went  to  Bristol  Hot  wells, 
where,  after  every  medical  exertion  proving  ineffectual,  and  the  med- 
dicinal  virtue  of  the  wells  yielding  no  relief,  she  meekly  rendered  up 
her  ransomed  soul  into  the  hands  of  her  gracious  God,  who  called 
her  home  to  receive  her  great  reward,  eternal  life,  the  free  gift  of 
the  most  High,  upon  the  1st  of  January  1786,  more  full  of  honor 
than  of  days ;  leaving  behind  her  a  fair  copy  of  every  thing  praise- 
worthy, and  of  good  report.  A  considerable  part  of  her  fortune 
she  left  for  pious  and  charitable  purposes. 

Of  humble  spirit,  though  of  taste  refin'd, 

Her  feelings  tender,  though  her  will  resign'd  ; 

Call'd  by  affliction,  every  grace  to  prove, 

In  patience  perfect,  and  complete  in  love ; 

O'er  death  victorious,  through  her  Savior's  might, 

She  reigns  triumphant  with  the  saints  in  light. 


Having  thus  made  as  copious  a  selection  of  the  Lives  of  the  pious 
women  of  Britain  as  our  limits  will  admit,  we  here  close  the  record 
of  English  female  worth,  and  turn  to  the  pages  which  honor  our 
country's  name,  by  the  recorded  virtues  of  American  women.  Un- 
graced  by  titles,  and  seldom  privileged  with  the  immense  wealth  of 
the  high-born  ladies  of  Britain,  female  Christians  on  this  side  of  the 
Atlantic  have  not  been  enabled  to  make  so  grand  a  display  in  the 
way  of  charities,  but  they  have  not  been  wanting  in  the  active  and 
earnest  labors  of  Christian  love.  The  testimony  of  many  of  our 
great  and  good  men,  who  have  traced  the  first  source  of  their  emin- 
ence in  a  mother's  gentle  nurture,  tells  how  and  where  their  influence 
has  been  felt.  And  the  green  graves,  that  hallow  the  shores  and  isles 
of  Eastern  India  and  the  Pacific,  or  bloom  amid  our  western  wilder- 
ness, show  that  high  devotion  and  deep  feeling  have  sent  them  forth 
in  labors  of  love,  as  far  as  man's  mightier  soul  has  led  the  way,  in 
the  fulfilment  of  the  last  charge  and  promise  of  the  ascending  Re- 
deemer. 


^sAN  Hr.v7VA;/. 


cjJLAH  i./m:| 


'^ViLiri.r'^ 


^fcUWAfl-  A 


hediyDaafM: 


301 


>IRS.  SARAH   EDWARDS 

WIFE    OF    THE    ELDER    PRESIDENT    EDWARDS. 


This  lady,  illustrious  by  her  parentage,  and  by  her  connection 
with  the  most  renowned  theologian  of  the  last  century,  honored  too- 
by  the  eminence  of  many  of  her  numerous  descendents,  owes  her 
rank  among  the  good  and  noble  of  her  sex,  however,  not  merely  to 
the  circumstances  of  birth  and  relation.  In  the  laborious  discharge 
of  the  important,  unpretending  duties  of  a  wife  and  mother,  she  had 
a  merit  that  was  all  her  own,  and  in  the  high  sphere  of  Christian 
virtue,  she  shone  with  no  borrowed  light.  Gifted  by  nature  with 
more  than  common  mental  powers,  she  might  claim  a  place,  also, 
among  those  whose  example  has  demonstrated  the  high  faculties  and 
susceptibilities  of  the  female  mind.  This  brief  record  of  her  life 
will  show,  that  though  she  was  not  of  the  number  of  those  females 
who  have  attained  the  glory  of  a  rank  on  the  lists  of  science  and 
literature,  yet  to  her  belongs  a  noble  though  modest  fame; — "Her 
children  rise  up  and  call  her  blessed ;  her  husband  also,  and  he  prais- 
eth  her." 

She  was  born  at  New  Haven,  on  the  9th  of  January,  1710.  Her 
paternal  grandfather,  John  Pierpont,  who  came  from  England  and 
resided  in  Roxbury,  Massachusetts,  was  a  younger  branch  of  the 
noble  family  of  the  dukes  of  Kingston.  Her  father,  the  Rev.  James 
Pierpont,  was  an  eminent,  pious  and  useful  minister,  at  New  Haven. 
He  married  Mary,  the  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Samuel  Hooker,  of  Far- 
mington,  who  was  the  son  of  the  Rev.  Thomas  Hooker,  of  Hartford, 
familiarly  denominated  "the  father  of  the  Connecticut  churches,"  and 
well  known,  in  the  churches  of  England,  for  his  distinguished  talents 
and  most  ardent  piety.  Mr.  Pierpont  was  one  of  the  principal 
founders,  and  one  of  the  Trustees  of  Yale  College :  and,  to  help 
forward  the  infant  seminary,  read  lectures  to  the  students,  for  some 
considerable  time,  as  Professor  of  Moral  Philosophy.  The  Plat- 
form of  the  Connecticut  churches,  established  at  Saybrook,  in  1708, 
is  ascribed  to  his  pen.  Miss  Pierpont  was  a  young  lady  of  un- 
common beauty.  Not  only  is  this  the  language  of  tradition ;  but 
Dr.  Hopkins,  who  first  saw  her  when  the  mother  of  seven  children, 
says  she  was  more  than  ordinarily  beautiful ;  and  her  portrait,  taken 
by  a  respectable  English  painter,*  while  it  presents  a  form  and  fea- 


■  The  Rev.  Dr  Erskine,  the  warm  friend  and  the  correspondent  of  Mr.  Edwards, 
being  desirous  of  procuring  a  correct  portrait,  both  of  him  and  his  wife,  and  hearing 
that  Smibert  a  distinguished  painter  was  in  Boston,  forwarded  to  his  agent  in  that  town 


302  MEMOIRS  OF 

tures  not  often  rivalled,  exhibits  also  that  peculiar  loveliness  of  ex- 
pression, which  is  the  combined  result  of  intelligence,  cheerfulness 
and  benevolence.  The  native  powers  of  her  mind,  were  of  a  supe- 
rior order ;  and  her  parents  being  in  easy  circumstances,  and  of  lib- 
eral views,  provided  for  their  children  all  the  advantages  of  an  enlight- 
ened and  polished  education.  In  her  manners  she  was  gentle  and 
courteous,  amiable  in  her  behavior,  and  the  law  of  kindness  appear- 
ed to  govern  all  her  conversation  and  conduct.  She  was  also  a  rare 
example  of  early  piety ;  having  exhibited  the  life  and  power  of  reli- 
gion, and  that  in  a  remarkable  manner,  when  only  five  years  of  age;* 
and  having  also  confirmed  the  hopes  which  her  friends  then  cherish- 
ed, by  the  uniform  and  increasing  excellence  of  her  character,  in 
childhood  and  youth.  So  warm  and  animated  were  her  religious 
feelings,  in  every  period  of  life,  that  they  might  perhaps  have  been 
regarded  as  enthusiastic,  had  they  not  been  under  the  control  of 
true  delicacy  and  sound  discretion. 

She  was  married  at  New  Haven,  when  only  in  the  eighteenth  year 
of  her  age,  to  the  Rev.  Jonathan  Edwards,  then  minister  of  the  Con- 
gregational church  in  Northampton,  Massachusetts.  Mr.  Edwards 
had  known  her  several  years  before  their  marriage,  and  from  the 
following  passage,  written  on  a  blank  leaf,  in  1723,  it  is  obvious,  that 
even  then  her  uncommon  piety,  at  least,  had  arrested  his  attention. 
"  They  say  there  is  a  young  lady  in  [New  Haven]  who  is  beloved 
of  that  Great  Being,  who  made  and  rules  the  world,  and  that  there 
are  certain  seasons  in  which  this  Great  Being,  in  some  way  or  other 
invisible,  comes  to  her  and  fills  her  mind  with  exceeding  sweet  de- 
light, and  that  she  hardly  cares  for  any  thing,  except  to  meditate  on 
him — that  she  expects  after  a  while  to  be  received  up  where  he  is, 
to  be  raised  up  out  of  the  world  and  caught  up  into  heaven ;  being 
assured  that  he  loves  her  too  well  to  let  her  remain  at  a  distance  from 
him  always.  There  she  is  to  dwell  with  him,  and  to  be  ravished 
with  his  love  and  delight  forever.  Therefore,  if  you  present  all  the 
world  before  her,  with  the  richest  of  its  treasures,  she  disregards  it 
and  cares  not  for  it,  and  is  unmindful  of  any  pain  or  affliction.  She 
has  a  strange  sweetness  in  her  mind,  and  singular  purity  in  her  affec- 
tions ;  is  most  just  and  conscientious  in  all  her  conduct ;  and  you 
could  not  persuade  her  to  do  any  thing  wrong  or  sinful,  if  you  would 
give  her  all  the  world,  lest  she  should  offend  this  Great  Being.  She 
is  of  a  wonderful  sweetness,  calmness  and  universal  benevolence  of 


the  sum  requisite,  not  only  for  the  portraits,  but  for  the  expenses  of  the  journey. 
They  were  taken  in  1740 ;  and  after  the  death  of  Dr.  Erskine,  were  very  kindly 
transmitted  by  his  executor,  to  Dr.  Edwards.  Smibert,  the  painter  of  these  portraits 
was  an  Italian  by  birth,  extensively  patronised  in  England,  and  was  eminent  in  his 
art,  as  many  fine  paintings  by  him  will  show.  The  fine  family  picture  of  Bishop 
Berkeley  in  the  Yale  College  collection  is  by  him. 

*  Hopkins'  Life  of  Edwards.     Dr.  H.  resided  in  the  family  a  considerable  time. 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARD b.  303 

mind  ;  especially  after  this  Great  God  has  manifested  himself  to  her 
mind.  She  will  sometimes  go  about  from  place  to  place,  singing 
sweetly;  and  seems  to  be  always  full  of  joy  and  pleasure;  and  no 
one  knows  for  what.  She  loves  to  be  alone,  walking  in  the  fields 
and  groves,  and  seems  to  have  some  one  invisible  always  conversing 
with  her."  After  due  allowance  is  made  for  animation  of  feeling, 
the  reader  will  be  convinced,  that  such  a  testimony,  concerning  a 
young  lady  of  thirteen,  could  not  have  been  given,  by  so  competent 
a  judge,  had  there  not  been  something  unusual  in  the  purity  and  ele- 
vation of  her  mind,  and  the  excellence  of  her  life.  Few  persons, 
we  are  convinced,  no  older  than  she  was  at  the  time  of  her  marriage, 
have  made  equal  progress  in  holiness ;  and  rare,  very  rare,  is  the 
instance,  in  which  such  a  connection  results  in  a  purer  or  more  unin- 
terrupted happiness.  It  was  a  union,  founded  on  high  personal  es- 
teem, and  on  a  mutual  affection,  which  continnally  grew,  and  ripened, 
and  mellowed  for  the  time  of  harvest.  The  station,  which  she  was 
called  to  till  at  this  early  age,  is  one  of  great  delicacy,  as  well  as  res- 
ponsibility, and  is  attended  with  many  difficulties.  She  entered  on 
the  performance  of  the  various  duties  to  her  family  and  the  people, 
to  which  it  summoned  her,  with  a  firm  reliance  on  the  guidance  and 
support  of  God ;  and  perhaps  no  stronger  evidence  can  be  given  of 
her  substantial  worth,  than  that  from  the  first  she  discharged  them  in 
such  a  manner,  as  to  secure  the  high  and  increasing  approbation  of 
all  who  knew  her. 

In  the  midst  of  the  remarkable  and  complicated  labors  to  which 
Mr.  Edwards  was  called,  he  found  at  home  one,  who  was  in  every 
sense  a  help  meet  for  him ;  one  who  made  their  common  dwelling 
the  abode  of  order  and  neatness,  of  peace  and  comfort,  of  harmony 
and  love,  to  all  its  inmates,  and  of  kindness  and  hospitality  to  the 
friend,  the  visitant  and  the  stranger.  "  While  she  uniformly  paid  a 
becoming  deference  to  her  husband,  and  treated  him  with  entire  res- 
pect, she  spared  no  pains  in  conforming  to  his  inclinations,  and  ren- 
dering every  thing  in  the  family  agreeable  and  pleasant :  accounting 
it  her  greatest  glory,  and  that  wherein  she  could  best  serve  God  and 
her  generation,  to  be  the  means,  in  this  way,  of  promoting  his  use- 
fulness and  happiness.  As  he  was  of  a  weakly,  infirm  constitution, 
and  was  necessarily  peculiarly  exact  in  his  diet,  she  was  a  tender 
nurse  to  him,  cheerfully  attending  upon  him  at  all  times,  and  in  all 
things  ministering  to  his  comfort.  And  no  person  of  discernment 
could  be  conversant  in  the  family,  without  observing,  and  admiring, 
the  perfect  harmony,  and  mutual  love  and  esteem,  that  subsisted  be- 
tween them.  At  the  same  time,  when  she  herself  labored  under 
bodily  disorders  and  pains,  which  was  not  unfrequently  the  case,  in- 
stead of  troubling  those  around  her  with  her  complaints,  and  wearing 
a  sour  or  dejected  countenance,  as  if  out  of  humor  with  every  body, 
and  every  thing  around  her,  because  she  was  disregarded  and  neg- 
lected ;  she  was  accustomed  to  bear  up  under  them,  not  only  with 
patience,  but  with  cheerfulness  and  good  humor." 


304  MEMOIRS  OF 

Devoted  as  Mr.  Edwards  was  to  study,  and  to  the  duties  of  his 
profession,  it  was  necessary  for  him  at  all  times,  to  be  relieved  from 
attention  to  all  secular  concerns ;  and  it  was  a  most  happy  circum- 
stance, that  he  could  trust  every  thing  of  this  nature  to  the  care  of 
Mrs.  Edwards,  with  entire  safety  and  with  undoubting  confidence. 
"  She  was  a  most  judicious  and  faithful  mistress  of  a  family,  habitu- 
ally industrious,  a  sound  economist,  managing  her  household  affairs 
with  diligence  and  discretion.  She  was  conscientiously  careful,  that 
nothing  should  be  wasted  and  lost ;  and  often,  when  she  herself  took 
care  to  save  any  thing  of  trifling  value,  or  directed  her  children  or 
others  to  do  so,  or  when  she  saw  them  waste  any  thing,  she  would 
repeat  the  words  of  our  Savior — "that  nothing  be  lost;"  which 
words,  she  said  she  often  thought  of,  as  containing  a  maxim  worth 
remembering,  especially  when  considered  as  the  reason  alleged  by 
Christ,  why  his  disciples  should  gather  up  the  fragments  of  that 
bread,  which  he  had  just  before  created  with  a  word.  She  took  al- 
most the  whole  direction  of  the  temporal  affairs  of  the  family,  with- 
out doors  and  within,  managing  them  with  great  wisdom  and  pru- 
dence, as  well  as  cheerfulness ;  and  in  this,  was  particularly  suited 
to  the  disposition,  as  well  as  the  habits  and  necessities,  of  her  hus- 
band, who  chose  to  have  no  care,  if  possible,  of  any  worldly  busi- 
ness." 

But  there  are  other  duties,  of  a  still  more  tender  and  difficult  na- 
ture, which  none  but  a  parent  can  adequately  perform ;  and  it  was 
an  unspeakable  privilege  to  Mr.  Edwards,  now  surrounded  by  a 
young  and  growing  family,  that  when  his  duties  to  his  people,  espe- 
cially in  times  of  revival,  necessarily  occupied  his  whole  attention, 
he  could  safely  commit  his  children  to  the  wisdom  and  piety,  the 
love  and  faithfulness,  of  their  mother.  Her  views  of  the  responsi- 
bility of  parents,  were  large  and  comprehensive.  "  She  thought 
that,  as  a  parent,  she  had  great  and  important  duties  to  do  towards 
her  children,  before  they  were  capable  of  government  and  instruc- 
tion. For  them,  she  constantly  and  earnestly  prayed,  and  bore  them 
on  her  heart  before  God,  in  all  her  secret  and  most  solemn  addresses 
to  him ;  and  that,  even  before  they  were  born.  The  prospect  of  her 
becoming  the  mother  of  a  rational  immortal  creature,  which  came  into 
existence  in  an  undone  and  infinitely  dreadful  state,  was  sufficient  to 
lead  her  to  bow  before  God  daily,  for  his  blessing  on  it — even  re- 
demption and  eternal  life  by  Jesus  Christ.  So  that,  through  all  the 
pain,  labor  and  sorrow,  which  attended  her  being  the  mother  of  chil- 
dren, she  was  in  travail  for  them,  that  they  might  be  born  of  God." 

She  regularly  prayed  with  her  children,  from  a  very  early  period, 
and,  as  there  is  the  best  reason  to  believe,  with  great  earnestness  and 
importunity.  Being  thoroughly  sensible  that,  in  many  respects,  the 
chief  care  of  forming  children  by  government  and  instruction,  natu- 
rally lies  on  mothers,  as  they  are  most  with  their  children,  at  an  age 
when  they  commonly  receive  impressions  that  are  permanent,  and 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARDS. 


have  great  influence  jki  forming  the  character  for  life,  she  was  very 
careful  to  do  her  part  in  this  important  business.  When  she  foresaw, 
or  met  with,  any  special  difficulty  in  this  matter,  she  was  wont  to 
apply  to  her  husband,  for  advice  and  assistance;  and  on  such  occa- 
sions, they  would  both  attend  to  it,  as  a  matter  of  the  utmost  impor- 
tance. She  had  an  excellent  way  of  governing  her  children ;  she 
knew  how  to  make  them  regard  and  obey  her  cheerfully,  without 
loud  angry  words,  much  less  heavy  blows.  She  seldom  punished 
them;  and  in  speaking  to  them,  used  gentle  and  pleasant  words.  If 
any  correction  was  necessary,  she  did  not  administer  it  in  a  passion  ; 
and  when  she  had  occasion  to  reprove  and  rebuke,  she  would  do  it 
in  few  words,  without  warmth  and  noise,  and  with  all  calmness  and 
gentleness  of  mind.  In  her  directions  and  reproofs,  in  matters  of 
importance,  she  would  address  herself  to  the  reason  of  her  children, 
that  they  might  not  only  know  her  inclination  and  will,  but  at  the 
same  time  be  convinced  of  the  reasonableness  of  it.  She  had  need 
to  speak  but  once ;  she  was  cheerfully  obeyed  :  murmuring  and  an- 
swering again  were  not  known  among  them.  In  their  manners,  they 
were  uncommonly  respectful  to  their  parents.  When  their  parents 
came  into  the  room,  they  all  rose  instinctively  from  their  seats,  and 
never  resumed  them  until  their  parents  were  seated ;  and  when 
either  parent  was  speaking,  no  matter  with  whom  they  had  been 
conversing,  they  were  all  immediately  silent  and  attentive.  The 
kind  and  gentle  treatment  they  received  from  their  mother,  while 
she  strictly  and  punctiliously  maintained  her  parental  authority,  seem- 
ed naturally  to  beget  and  promote  a  filial  respect  and  affection,  and 
to  lead  them  to  a  mild  tender  treatment  of  each  other.  Quarrelling 
and  contention,  which  too  frequently  take  place  among  children,  were 
in  her  family  wholly  unknown.  She  carefully  observed  the  first  ap- 
pearance of  resentment  and  ill  will  in  her  young  children,  towards 
any  person  whatever,  and  did  not  connive  at  it,  as  many  who  have 
the  care  of  children  do,  but  was  careful  to  show  her  displeasure,  and 
suppress  it  to  the  utmost ;  yet,  not  by  angry,  wrathful  words,  which 
often  provoke  children  to  wrath,  and  stir  up  their  irascible  passions, 
rather  than  abate  them.  Her  system  of  discipline  was  begun  at  a 
very  early  age,  and  it  was  her  rule,  to  resist  the  first,  as  well  as  every 
subsequent  exhibition  of  temper  or  disobedience  in  the  child,  how- 
ever young,  until  its  will  was  brought  into  submission  to  the  will  of 
its  parents :  wisely  reflecting,  that  until  a  child  will  obey  his  parents^ 
he  can  never  be  brought  to  obey  God. 

Fond  as  Mr.  Edwards  was  of  welcoming  the  friend  and  the  stran- 
ger, and  much  as  his  house  was  a  favorite  place  of  resort,  to  gentle- 
men both  of  the  clergy  and  laity ;  it  was  absolutely  necessary,  at  all 
times,  and  peculiarly  so  in  seasons  of  religious  attention,  that  some 
one,  well  knowing  how  to  perform  the  rites  of  hospitality,  and  to  pay 
all  the  civilities  and  charities  of  life,  should  relieve  him  from  these 
attentions,   during  those  hours  which  were  consecrated  to  his  pro- 

39 


306  MEMOIRS  OF 

fessional  duties;  and  here  also,  he  could  most  advantageously  avail 
himself  of  the  assistance  of  Mrs.  Edwards.  Educated  in  the  midst 
of  polished  life,  familiar  from  childhood  with  the  rules  of  decorum 
and  good  breeding,  affable  and  easy  in  her  manners,  and  governed 
by  the  feelings  of  liberality  and  benevolence,  she  was  remarkable 
for  her  kindness  to  her  friends,  and  to  the  visitants  who  resorted  to 
Mr.  Edwards ;  sparing  no  pains  to  make  them  welcome,  and  to  pro- 
vide for  their  convenience  and  comfort.  She  was  also  peculiarly 
kind  to  strangers,  who  came  to  her  house.  By  her  sweet  and  win- 
ning manners,  and  ready  conversation,  she  soon  became  acquainted 
with  them,  and  brought  them  to  feel  acquainted  with  herself;  and 
showed  such  concern  for  their  comfort,  and  so  kindly  offered  what 
she  thought  they  needed,  that  while  her  friendly  attentions  discovered 
at  once  that  she  knew  the  feelings  of  a  stranger,  they  also  made  their 
way  directly  to  his  heart,  and  gaining  his  confidence,  led  him  imme- 
diately to  feel  as  if  he  were  at  home,  in  the  midst  of  near  and  affec- 
tionate friends. 

"  She  made  it  her  rule,  to  speak  well  of  all,  so  far  as  she  could 
with  truth  and  justice  to  herself  and  others.  She  was  not  wont  to 
dwell  with  delight  on  the  imperfections  and  failings  of  any ;  and 
when  she  heard  persons  speaking  ill  of  others,  she  would  say  what 
she  thought  she  could,  with  truth  and  justice,  in  their  excuse,  or 
divert  the  obloquy,  by  mentioning  those  things  that  were  commend- 
able in  them.  Thus  she  was  tender  of  every  one's  character,  even 
of  those  who  injured  and  spoke  evil  of  her ;  and  carefully  guard- 
ed against  the  too  common  vice,  of  evil  speaking  and  backbiting. 
She  could  hear  injuries  and  reproach,  with  great  calmness,  without 
any  disposition  to  render  evil  for  evil ;  but,  on  the  contrary,  was 
ready  to  pity  and  forgive  those,  who  appeared  to  be  her  enemies." 
This  course  of  conduct,  steadily  pursued,  secured,  in  an  unusual 
degree,  the  affection  and  confidence  of  those  who  knew  her. 

She  proved  also,  an  invaluable  auxiliary  to  Mr.  Edwards,  in  the 
duties  of  his  profession,  not  only  by  her  excellent  example,  but  by 
her  active  efforts  in  doing  good.  "She  was,"  says  Dr.  Hopkins, 
"  eminent  for  her  piety,  and  for  experimental  religion.  Religious 
conversation  was  her  delight ;  and,  as  far  as  propriety  permitted, 
she  promoted  it  in  all  companies.  Her  religious  conversation  show- 
ed at  once,  her  clear  comprehension  of  spiritual  and  divine  things, 
and  the  deep  impression  which  they  had  made  upon  her  mind."  It 
was  not  merely  conversation  about  religion — about  its  truths,  or  du- 
ties, or  its  actual  state — its  doctrines  or  triumphs — or  the  character 
and  conduct  of  its  friends  and  ministers :  it  was  religion  itself; — 
that  supreme  love  to  God,  to  his  kingdom  and  his  glory,  which, 
abounding  in  the  heart,  flows  forth  spontaneously,  in  the  daily  con- 
versation and  the  daily  life. 

The  friends  of  vital  Christianity,  those  who  delighted  in  its  great 
and  essential  truths,  who  showed  its  practical  influence  on  their 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARDS.  307 

lives,  and  who  were  most  engaged  in  promoting  its  prosperity,  were 
her  chosen  friends  and  intimates.  With  such  persons,  she  would 
converse  freely  and  confidentially,  telling  them  of  the  exercises  of 
her  own  heart,  and  the  happiness  she  had  experienced  in  a  life  of 
religion,  for  their  encouragement  in  the  christian  course.  Her 
mind  appeared  to  attend  to  spiritual  and  divine  things  constantly,  on 
all  occasions,  and  in  every  condition  and  business  of  life.  Secret 
prayer  was  her  uniform  practice,  and  appeared  to  be  the  source  of 
daily  enjoyment.  She  was  a  constant  attendant  on  public  worship, 
and  always  exhibited  the  deepest  solemnity  and  reverence  in  the 
house  of  God.  She  always  prized  highly  the  privilege  of  social 
worship,  not  only  in  the  family,  but  in  the  private  meetings  of  chris- 
tians. Such  meetings,  on  the  part  of  females  only,  for  prayer  and 
religious  conversation,  have  at  times  been  objected  to,  as,  both  in 
their  nature  and  results,  inconsistent  with  the  true  delicacy  of  the 
sex.  Her  own  judgment,  formed  deliberately,  and  in  coincidence 
with  that  of  her  husband,  was  in  favor  of  these  meetings ;  and  ac- 
cordingly, she  regularly  encouraged  and  promoted  them,  during  the 
remarkable  revival  of  religion  in  1734  and  1735,  as  well  as  at  other 
times ;  attending  on  them  herself,  and  not  declining  to  take  her 
proper  share  in  the  performance  of  their  various  duties.  In  this 
way,  she  exerted  an  important  influence  among  her  own  sex,  and 
over  the  young :  an  influence  always  salutary  in  promoting  union, 
ardor  and  spiritual-mindedness,  but  especially  powerful,  in  seasons 
of  uncommon  attention  to  religion. 

One  circumstance,  which  served  essentially  to  extend  and  increase 
this  influence,  was  the  fact,  that  her  religion  had  nothing  gloomy  or 
forbidding  in  its  character.  Unusual  as  it  was  in  degree,  it  was  em- 
inently the  religion  of  joy.  On  the  testimony  of  Mr.  Edwards,  it 
possessed  this  character,  even  when  she  was  a  little  child  of  about 
five  or  six  years  of  age,  as  well  as  customarily  in  after  life.  At  the 
commencement  of  this  remarkable  work  of  grace,  she  appears  to 
have  dedicated  herself  anew  to  God,  with  more  entire  devotion  of 
heart  to  his  service  and  glory,  than  she  had  ever  been  conscious  of 
before ;  and  during  its  progress,  as  well  as  afterwards,  she  experi- 
enced a  degree  of  religious  enjoyment,  not  previously  known  to  her- 
self, and  not  often  vouchsafed  to  others. 

Near  the  close  of  the  year  1738,  according  to  the  testimony  of 
Mr.  Edwards,  she  was  led,  under  an  uncommon  discovery  of  God's 
excellency,  and  in  an  high  exercise  of  love  to  God,  and  of  rest  and 
joy  in  him,  to  make  a  new  and  most  solemn  dedication  of  herself  to 
his  service  and  glory,  an  entire  renunciation  of  the  world,  and  a  re- 
signation of  all  to  God.  After  this,  she  had  often  such  views  of  the 
glory  of  the  Divine  perfections,  and  of  Christ's  excellencies,  and  at 
times,  for  hours  together,  without  any  interruption,  that  she  was  over- 
whelmed, and  as  it  were  swallowed  up,  in  the  light  and  joy  of  the 
Jove  of  God.     In  the  summer  of  1 740,  after  a  new  and  more  perfect 


308  MEMOIRS  OF 

resignation  of  herself  to  God,  with  yet  greater  fervency,  her  views  of 
the  glory  of  God,  and  of  the  excellency  of  Christ,  became  still  more 
clear  and  transporting ;  and  in  the  following  winter,  after  a  similar, 
but  more  perfect  resignation  of  herself,  and  acceptance  of  God  as  the 
only  portion  and  happiness  of  her  soul,  God  appeared  to  vouchsafe 
to  her,  for  a  long  period,  a  degree  of  spiritual  light  and  enjoyment, 
which  seemed  to  be,  in  reality,  an  anticipation  of  the  joys  of  the  heav- 
enly world.  There  was  so  much  that  was  unusual  and  striking  in 
this  state  of  mind,  that  her  husband  requested  her  to  draw  up  an  ex- 
act statement  of  it ;  which,  having  been  preserved,  is  now  presented 
to  the  reader. 

"On  Tuesday  night,  Jan.  19,  1742,"  observes  Mrs.  Edwards, 
u  I  felt  very  uneasy  and  unhappy,  at  my  being  so  low  in  grace.  I 
thought  I  very  much  needed  help  from  God,  and  found  a  spirit  of 
earnestness  to  seek  help  of  him,  that  I  might  have  more  holiness. 
When  I  had  for  a  time  been  earnestly  wrestling  with  God  for  it,  I  felt 
within  myself  great  quietness  of  spirit,  unusual  submission  to  God, 
and  willingness  to  wait  upon  him,  with  respect  to  the  time  and  man- 
ner in  which  he  should  help  me,  and  wished  that  he  should  take  his 
own  time,  and  his  own  way,  to  do  it. 

"  The  next  morning,  I  found  a  degree  of  uneasiness  in  my  mind, 
at  Mr.  Edwards's  suggesting,  that  he  thought  I  had  failed  in  some 
measure  in  point  of  prudence,  in  some  conversation  I  had  with  Mr. 
Williams  of  Hadley,  the  day  before.  I  found,  that  it  seemed  to  be- 
reave me  of  the  quietness  and  calm  of  my  mind,  in  any  respect  not 
to  have  the  good  opinion  of  my  husband.  This,  I  much  disliked 
in  myself,  as  arguing  a  want  of  a  sufficient  rest  in  God,  and  felt  a 
disposition  to  fight  against  it,  and  look  to  God  for  his  help,  that  I 
might  have  a  more  full  and  entire  rest  in  him,  independent  of  all  oth- 
er things.  I  continued  in  this  frame,  from  early  in  the  morning  until 
about  10  o'clock,  at  which  time  the  Rev.  Mr.  Reynolds  went  to  pray- 
er in  the  family. 

"  I  had  before  this,  so  entirely  given  myself  up  to  God,  and  re- 
signed up  every  thing  into  his  hands,  that  I  had,  for  a  long  time,  felt 
myself  quite  alone  in  the  world ;  so  that  the  peace  and  calm  of  my 
mind,  and  my  rest  in  God,  as  my  only  and  all  sufficient  happiness, 
seemed  sensibly  above  the  reach  of  disturbance  from  any  thing  but 
these  two  :  1st.  My  own  good  name  and  fair  reputation  among  men, 
and  especially  the  esteem  and  just  treatment  of  the  people  of  this 
town ;  2dly.  And  more  especially,  the  esteem,  and  love  and  kind 
treatment  of  my  husband.  At  times,  indeed,  I  had  seemed  to  be 
considerably  elevated  above  the  influence  of  even  these  things ;  yet 
I  had  not  found  my  calm,  and  peace  and  rest  in  God  so  sensibly, 
fully  and  constantly,  above  the  reach  of  distnrbance  from  them,  un- 
til  now. 

"  While  Mr.  Reynolds  was  at  prayer  in  the  family  this  morning,  f 
felt  an  earnest  desire  that,  in  calling  on  God,  he  should  say,  Father, 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARDS.  300 

or  that  he  should  address  the  Almighty  under  that  appellation  :  on 
which  the  thought  turned  in  my  mind — Why  can  I  say,  Father*! — 
Can  I  now  at  this  time,  with  the  confidence  of  a  child,  and  without 
the  least  misgiving  of  heart,  call  God  my  father  ? — This  brought  to 
my  mind,  two  lines  of  Mr.  Erskine's  Sonnet : 

"  I  see  him  lay  his  vengeance  by, 
"  And  smile  in  Jesus'  face." 

"  I  was  thus  deeply  sensible,  that  my  sins  did  loudly  call  for  ven- 
geance ;  but  I  then  by  faith  saw  God  "  lay  his  vengeance  by,  and 
smile  in  Jesus'  face."  It  appeared  to  be  real  and  certain  that  he  did 
so.  I  had  not  the  least  doubt,  that  he  then  sweetly  smiled  upon  me, 
with  the  look  of  forgiveness  and  love,  having  laid  aside  all  his  dis- 
pleasure towards  me,  for  Jesus'  sake ;  which  made  me  feel  very 
weak,  and  somewhat  faint. 

"In  consequence  of  this,  I  felt  a  strong  desire  to  be  alone  with 
God,  to  go  to  him,  without  having  any  one  to  interrupt  the  silent  and 
soft  communion,  which  I  earnestly  desired  between  God  and  my  own 
soul ;  and  accordingly  withdrew  to  my  chamber.  It  should  have 
been  mentioned  that,  before  I  retired,  while  Mr.  Reynolds  was  pray- 
ing, these  words,  in  Rom.  viii.  34,  came  into  my  mind  "  Who  is 
he  that  condemneth;  It  is  Christ  that  died,  yea  rather  that  is  risen 
again,  who  is  even  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  who  also  maketh  inter- 
cession for  us  ;"  as  well  as  the  following  words,  "  Who  shall  sepa- 
rate us  from  the  love  of  Christ,"  etc. ;  which  occasioned  great  sweet- 
ness and  delight  in  my  soul.  But  when  I  was  alone,  the  words  came 
to  my  mind  with  far  greater  power  and  sweetness;  upon  which  I 
took  the  Bible,  and  read  the  words  to  the  end  of  the  chapter,  when 
they  were  impressed  on  my  heart  with  vastly  greater  power  and 
sweetness  still.  They  appeared  to  me  with  undoubted  certainty  as 
the  words  of  God,  and  as  words  which  God  did  pronounce  concern- 
ing me.  I  had  no  more  doubt  of  it,  than  I  had  of  my  being.  I 
seemed  as  it  were  to  hear  the  great  God  proclaiming  thus  to  the 
world  concerning  me ;  "  Who  shall  lay  any  thing  to  thy  charge" 
etc. ;  and  had  it  strongly  impressed  on  me,  how  impossible  it  was  for 
any  thing  in  heaven  or  earth,  in  this  world  or  the  future,  ever  to  sep- 
arate me  from  the  love  of  God  which  was  in  Christ  Jesus.  1  can- 
not find  language  to  express,  how  certain  this  appeared — the  ever- 
lasting mountains  and  hills  were  but  shadows  to  it.  My  safety,  and 
happiness,  and  eternal  enjoyment  of  God's  immutable  love,  seemed 
as  durable  and  unchangeable  as  God  himself.  Melted  and  overcome 
by  the  sweetness  of  this  assurance,  I  fell  into  a  great  flow  of  tears, 
and  could  not  forbear  weeping  aloud.  It  appeared  certain  to  me 
that  God  was  my  Father,  and  Christ  my  Lord  and  Savior,  that  he 
was  mine  and  I  his.  Under  a  delightful  sense  of  the  immediate  pres- 
ence and  love  of  God,  these  words  seemed  to  come  over  and  over 
in  my  mind,  "  My  God,  my  all ;  my  God,  my  all."     The  presence 


310  MEMOIRS  OF 

of  God  was  so  near,  and  so  real,  that  I  seemed  scarcely  conscious  of 
any  thing  else.  God  the  Father,  and  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  seem- 
ed as  distinct  persons,  both  manifesting  their  inconceivable  loveliness, 
and  mildness,  and  gentleness,  and  their  great  and  immutable  love  to 
me.  I  seemed  to  be  taken  under  the  care  and  charge  of  my  God 
and  Savior,  in  an  inexpressibly  endearing  manner ;  and  Christ  ap- 
peared to  me  as  a  mighty  Savior,  under  the  character  of  the  Lion 
of  the  Tribe  of  Judah,  taking  my  heart,  with  all  its  corruptions,  un- 
der his  care,  and  putting  it  at  his  feet.  In  all  things,  which  concern- 
ed me,  I  felt  myself  safe  under  the  protection  of  the  Father  and  the 
Savior ;  who  appeared  with  supreme  kindness  to  keep  a  record  of 
every  thing  that  I  did,  and  of  every  thing  that  was  done  to  me,  purely 
for  my  good. 

"The  peace  and  happiness,  which  I  hereupon  felt,  was  altogeth- 
er inexpressible.  It  seemed  to  be  that  which  came  from  heaven  ; 
to  be  eternal  and  unchangeable.  I  seemed  to  be  lifted  above  earth 
and  hell,  out  of  the  reach  of  every  thing  here  below,  so  that  I  could 
look  on  all  the  rage  and  enmity  of  men  or  devils,  with  a  kind  of  ho- 
ly indifference,  and  an  undisturbed  tranquillity.  At  the  same  time,  I 
felt  compassion  and  love  for  all  mankind,  and  a  deep  abasement  of 
soul,  under  a  sense  of  my  own  unworthiness.  I  thought  of  the  min- 
isters who  were  in  the  house,  and  felt  willing  to  undergo  any  labor 
and  self-denial,  if  they  would  but  come  to  the  help  of  the  Lord.  I 
also  felt  myself  more  perfectly  weaned  from  all  things  here  below, 
than  ever  before.  The  whole  world,  with  all  its  enjoyments,  and  all 
its  troubles,  seemed  to  be  nothing  : — My  God  was  my  all,  my  only 
portion.  No  possible  suffering  appeared  to  be  worth  regarding  :  all 
persecutions  and  torments  were  a  mere  nothing.  I  seemed  to  dwell 
on  high,  and  the  place  of  defence  to  be  the  munition  of  rocks. 

"After  some  time,  the  two  evils  mentioned  above,  as  those  which 
I  should  have  been  least  able  to  bear,  came  to  my  mind — the  ill  treat- 
ment of  the  town,  and  the  ill  will  of  my  husband  ;  but  now  I  was  car- 
ried exceedingly  above  even  such  things  as  these,  and  I  could  feel 
that,  if  I  were  exposed  to  them  both,  they  would  seem  comparative- 
ly nothing.  There  was  then  a  deep  snow  on  the  ground,  and  I  could 
think  of  being  driven  from  my  home  into  the  cold  and  snow,  of  being 
chased  from  the  town  with  the  utmost  contempt  and  malice,  and  of 
being  left  to  perish  with  the  cold,  as  cast  out  by  all  the  world,  with 
perfect  calmness  and  serenity.  It  appeared  to  me,  that  it  would  not 
move  me,  or  in  the  least  disturb  the  inexpressible  happiness  and  peace 
of  my  soul.  My  mind  seemed  as  much  above  all  such  things,  as  the 
sun  is  above  the  earth. 

"  I  continued  in  a  very  sweet  and  lively  sense  of  divine  things,  day 
and  night,  sleeping  and  waking,  until  Saturday,  Jan.  23.  On  Satur- 
day morning,  I  had  a  most  solemn  and  deep  impression  on  my  mind 
of  the  eye  of  God  as  fixed  upon  me,  to  observe  what  improvement 
I  made  of  those  spiritual  communications  I  had  received  from  him ; 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARDS.  311 

as  well  as  of  the  respect  shown  Mr.  Edwards,  who  had  then  been  sent 
for  to  preach  at  Leicester.  I  was  sensible  that  I  was  sinful  enough 
to  bestow  it  on  my  pride,  or  on  my  sloth,  which  seemed*  exceedingly 
dreadful  to  me.  At  night,  my  soul  seemed  to  be  filled  with  an  inex- 
pressibly sweet  and  pure  love  to  God,  and  to  the  children  of  God  ; 
with  a  refreshing  consolation  and  solace  of  soul,  which  made  me  mh 
lin°*  to  lie  on  the  earth,  at  the  feet  of  the  servants  of  God,  to  declare 
his  gracious  dealings  with  me,  and  breathe  forth  before  them  my  love, 
and  gratitude,  and  praise. 

"  The  next  day,  which  was  the  Sabbath,  I  enjoyed  a  sweet,  and 
lively  and  assured  sense  of  God's  infinite  grace,  and  favor,  and  love 
to  me,  in  taking  me  out  of  the  depths  of  hell,  and  exalting  me  to  the 
heavenly  glory,  and  the  dignity  of  a  royal  priesthood. 

"  On  Monday  night,  Mr.  Edwards,  being  gone  that  day  to  Lei- 
cester, I  heard  that  Mr.  Buell,  was  coming  to  this  town,  and  from 
what  I  had  heard  of  him,  and  of  his  success,  I  had  strong  hopes 
that  there  would  be  great  effects  from  his  labors  here.  At  the  same 
time,  I  had  a  deep  and  affecting  impression,  that  the  eye  of  God  was 
ever  upon  my  heart,  and  that  it  greatly  concerned  me  to  watch  my 
heart,  and  see  to  it  that  I  was  perfectly  resigned  to  God,  with  res- 
pect to  the  instruments  he  should  make  use  of  to  revive  religion  in 
this  town,  and  be  entirely  willing,  if  it  was  God's  pleasure,  that  he 
should  make  use  of  Mr.  Buell ;  and  also  that  other  christians  should 
appear  to  excel  me  in  christian  experience,  and  in  the  benefit  they 
should  derive  from  ministers.  I  was  conscious,  that  it  would  be  ex- 
ceedingly provoking  to  God  if  I  should  not  be  thus  resigned,  and 
earnestly  endeavored  to  watch  my  heart,  that  no  feelings  of  a  con- 
trary nature  might  arise  ;  and  was  enabled,  as  I  thought  to  exercise 
full  resignation,  and  acquiescence  in  God's  pleasure,  as  to  these 
things.  I  was  sensible  what  great  cause  I  had  to  bless  God,  for  the 
use  he  had  made  of  Mr.  Edwards  hitherto  ;  but  thought,  if  he  never 
blessed  his  labors  any  more,  and  should  greatly  bless  the  labors  of 
other  ministers,  I  could  entirely  acquiesce  in  his  will.  It  appeared 
to  me  meet  and  proper,  that  God  should  employ  babes  and  sucklings 
to  advance  his  kingdom.  When  I  thought  of  these  things,  it  was 
my  instinctive  feeling  to  say,  "  Amen,  Lord  Jesus !  Amen  Lord  Je- 
sus !"  This  seemed  to  be  the  sweet  and  instinctive  language  of  my 
soul. 

11  On  Tuesday,  I  remained  in  a  sweet  and  lively  exercise  of  this 
resignation,  and  love  to,  and  rest  in  God,  seeming  to  be  in  my  heart 
from  day  to  day,  far  above  the  reach  of  every  thing  here  below. 
On  Tuesday  night,  especially  the  latter  part  of  it,  I  felt  a  great  ear- 
nestness of  soul  and  engagedness  in  seeking  God  for  the  town,  that 
religion  might  now  revive,  and  that  God  would  bless  Mr.  Buell  to 
that  end.  God  seemed  to  be  very  near  to  me  while  I  was  thusstri- 
ving  with  him  for  these  things,  and  I  had  a  strong  hope  that  what  I 
sought  of  him  would  be  granted.     There  seemed  naturally  and  un- 


312  MEMOIRS  OF 

avoidably  to  arise  in  my  mind  an  assurance,  that  now  God  would  do 
great  things  for  Northampton. 

On  Wednesday  morning  I  heard  that  Mr.  Buell,  arrived  the  night 
before  at  Mr.  Phelps's,  and  that  there  seemed  to  be  great  tokens  and 
effects  of  the  presence  of  God  there,  which  greatly  encouraged 
and  rejoiced  me.  About  an  hour  and  a  half  after,  Mr.  Buell  came 
to  our  house,  I  sat  still  in  entire  resignedness  to  God,  and  willingness 
that  God  should  bless  his  labors  here  as  much  as  he  pleased ;  though 
it  were  to  the  enlivening  of  every  saint,  and  to  the  conversion  of 
every  sinner,  in  the  town.  These  feelings  continued  afterwards, 
when  I  saw  his  great  success ;  as  1  never  felt  the  least  rising  of  heart 
to  the  contrary,  but  my  submission  was  even  and  uniform,  without 
interruption  or  disturbance.  I  rejoiced  when  I  saw  the  honor  which 
God  put  upon  him,  and  the  respect  paid  him  by  the  people,  and  the 
greater  success  attending  his  preaching,  than  had  followed  the 
preaching  of  Mr.  Edwards  immediately  before  he  went  to  Leicester. 
I  found  rest  and  rejoicing  in  it,  and  the  sweet  language  of  my  soul 
continually  was,  "  Amen,  Lord  Jesus  !  Amen,  Lord  Jesus  !" 

"  At  3  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  a  lecture  was  preached  by  Mr. 
Buell.  In  the  latter  part  of  the  sermon,  one  or  two  appeared  much 
moved,  and  after  the  blessing,  when  the  people  were  going  out,  sev- 
eral others.  To  my  mind  there  was  the  clearest  evidence,  that  God 
was  present  in  the  congregation,  on  the  word  of  redeeming  love ; 
and  in  the  clear  view  of  this,  I  was  all  at  once  filled  with  such  intense 
admiration  of  the  wonderful  condescension  and  grace  of  God,  in  re- 
turning again  to  Northampton,  as  overwhelmed  my  soul,  and  imme- 
diately took  away  my  bodily  strength.  This  was  accompanied  with 
an  earnest  longing,  that  those  of  us,  who  were  the  children  of  God, 
might  now  arise  and  strive.  It  appeared  to  me,  that  the  angels  in 
heaven  sung  praises,  for  such  wonderful,  free  and  sovereign  grace, 
and  my  heart  was  lifted  up  in  adoration  and  praise.  I  continued  to 
have  clear  views  of  the  future  world,  of  eternal  happiness  and  mise- 
ry, and  my  heart  full  of  love  to  the  souls  of  men.  On  seeing  some 
that  I  found  were  in  a  natural  condition,  I  felt  a  most  tender  compas- 
sion for  them  ;  but  especially  was  I,  while  I  remained  in  the  meeting- 
house, from  time  to  time  overcome,  and  my  strength  taken  away,  by 
the  sight  of  one  and  another,  whom  I  regarded  as  the  children  of 
God,  and  who,  I  had  heard  were  lively  and  animated  in  religion. 
We  remained  in  the  meeting-house  about  three  hours,  after  the  pub- 
lic exercises  were  over.  During  most  of  the  time,  my  bodily  strength 
was  overcome  ;  and  the  joy  and  thankfulness,  which  were  excited  in 
my  mind,  as  I  contemplated  the  great  goodness  of  God,  led  me  to 
converse  with  those  who  were  near  me,  in  a  very  earnest  manner. 

"  When  I  came  home,  I  found  Mr.  Buell,  Mr.  Christophers,  Mr. 
Hopkins,  Mrs.  Eleanor  Dwight,  the  wife  of  Mr.  Joseph  Allen,  and 
Mr.  Job  Strong,  at  the  house.  Seeing  and  conversing  with  them  on 
the  Divine  goodness,  renewed  my  former  feelings,  and  filled  me 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARDS.  313 

with  an  intense  desire  that  we  might  all  arise,  and  with  an  active, 
flowing  and  fervent  heart,  give  glory  to  God.  The  intenseness  of 
my  feelings  again  took  away  my  bodily  strength.  The  words  of  one 
of  Dr.  Watts's  Hosannas  powerfully  affected  me ;  and  in  the  course 
of  the  conversation,  I  uttered  them,  as  the  real  language  of  my  heart 
with  great  earnestness  and  emotion. 

"  Hosanna  to  King  David's  Son, 

<•'  Who  reigns  on  a  superior  throne,"  &c. 

And  while  I  was  uttering  the  words,  my  mind  was  so  deeply  impres- 
sed with  the  love  of  Christ,  and  a  sense  of  his  immediate  presence, 
that  I  could  with  difficulty  refrain  from  rising  from  my  seat,  and  leap- 
ing for  joy.  I  continued  to  enjoy  this  intense,  and  lively,  and  re- 
freshing sense  of  Divine  things,  accompanied  with  strong  emotions, 
for  nearly  an  hour ;  after  which,  I  experienced  a  delightful  calm,  and 
peace  and  rest  in  God,  until  I  retired  for  the  night;  and  during  the 
night,  both  waking  and  sleeping,  I  had  joyful  views  of  Divine  things, 
and  a  complacential  rest  of  soul  in  God.  I  awoke  in  the  morning  of 
of  Thursday,  June  28th,  in  the  same  happy  frame  of  mind,  and 
engaged  in  the  duties  of  my  family  with  a  sweet  consciousness,  that 
God  was  present  with  me,  and  with  earnest  longings  of  soul  for  the 
continuance,  and  increase  of  the  blessed  fruits  of  the  Holy  Spirit  in 
the  town.  About  nine  o'clock,  these  desires  became  so  exceedingly 
intense,  when  I  saw  numbers  of  the  people  coming  into  the  house, 
with  an  appearance  of  deep  interest  in  religion,  that  my  bodily 
strength  was  much  weakened,  and  it  was  with  difficulty  that  I  could 
pursue  my  ordinary  avocations.  About  11  o'clock,  as  I  accidentally 
went  into  the  room  where  Mr.  Buell  was  conversing  with  some  of 
the  people,  I  heard  him  say,  "  O  that  we,  who  are  the  children  of 
God,  should  be  cold  and  lifeless  in  religion  !"  and  I  felt  such  a  sense 
of  the  deep  ingratitude  manifested  by  the  children  of  God,  in  such 
coldness  and  deadness,  that  my  strength  was  immediately  taken  away 
and  I  sunk  down  on  the  spot.  Those  who  were  near  raised  me,  and 
placed  me  in  a  chair ;  and  from  the  fulness  of  my  heart,  I  express- 
ed to  them,  in  a  very  earnest  manner,  the  deep  sense  I  had  of  the 
wonderful  grace  of  Christ  towards  me,  of  the  assurance  I  had  of  his 
having  saved  me  from  hell,  of  my  happiness  running  parallel  with 
eternity,  of  the  duty  of  giving  up  all  to  God,  and  of  the  peace  and 
joy  inspired  by  an  entire  dependence  on  his  mercy  and  grace.  Mr. 
Buell  then  read  a  melting  hymn  of  Dr.  Watts,*  concerning  the  loveli- 
ness of  Christ,  the  enjoyments  and  employments  of  heaven,  and  the 
christian's  earnest  desire  of  heavenly  things,  and  the  truth  and  reality  of 
the  things  mentioned  in  the  hymn,  made  so  strong  an  impression  on  my 

*  Probably  the  91st  Hymn  of  the  2d  Book,  beginning  with 

"  O  the  delights,  the  heavenly  joys, 
"  The  glories  of  the  place. 
40 


314  MEMOIRS    OF 

mind,  and  my  soul  was  drawn  so  powerfully  towards  Christ  and 
heaven,  that  1  leaped  unconsciously  from  my  chair.  I  seemed  to  be 
drawn  upwards,  soul  and  body,- from  the  earth  towards  heaven;  and 
it  appeared  to  me  that  I  must  naturally  and  necessarily  ascend  thith- 
er. These  feelings  continued  while  the  hymn  was  reading,  and  du- 
ring the  prayer  of  Mr.  Christophers,  which  followed.  After  the 
prayer,  Mr.  Buell  read  two  other  hymns,  on  the  glories  of  heaven, 
which  moved  me  so  exceedingly,  and  drew  me  so  strongly  heaven- 
ward, that  it  seemed  as  it  were  to  draw  my  body  upwards,  and  I  felt 
as  if  I  must  necessarily  ascend  thither.  At  length  my  strength  failed 
me,  and  I  sunk  down ;  when  they  took  me  up  and  laid  me  on  the 
bed,  where  I  lay  for  a  considerable  time,  faint  with  joy,  while  con- 
templating the  glories  of  the  heavenly  world.  After  I  had  lain  a 
while,  I  felt  more  perfectly  subdued  and  weaned  from  the  world, 
and  more  fully  resigned  to  God,  than  I  had  ever  been  conscious  of 
before.  I  felt  an  entire  indifference  to  the  opinions,  and  representa- 
tions and  conduct  of  mankind  respecting  me  ;  and  a  perfect  willing- 
ness, that  God  should  employ  some  other  instrument  than  Mr.  Ed- 
wards, in  advancing  the  work  of  grace  in  Northampton.  I  was  en- 
tirely swallowed  up  in  God,  as  my  only  portion,  and  his  honor  and  glory 
was  the  object  of  my  supreme  desire  and  delight.  At  the  same 
time,  I  felt  a  far  greater  love  to  the  children  of  God,  than  ever  be- 
fore. I  seemed  to  love  them  as  my  own  soul ;  and  when  I  saw  them 
my  heart  went  out  towards  them,  with  an  inexpressible  endearedness 
and  sweetness.  I  beheld  them  by  faith  in  their  risen  and  glorified 
state,  with  spiritual  bodies  re-fashioned  after  the  image  of  Christ's 
glorious  body,  and  arrayed  in  the  beauty  of  heaven.  The  time 
when  they  would  be  so,  appeared  very  near,  and  by  faith  it  seemed 
as  if  it  were  present.  This  was  accompanied  with  a  ravishing  sense 
of  the  unspeakable  joys  of  the  upper  world.  They  appeared  to  my 
mind  in  all  their  reality  and  certainty,  and  as  it  were  in  actual  and 
distinct  vision  ;  so  plain  and  evident  were  they  to  the  eye  of  my  faith, 
I  seemed  to  regard  them  as  begun.  These  anticipations  were  re- 
newed over  and  over,  while  I  lay  on  the  bed,  from  twelve  o'clock 
till  four,  being  too  much  exhausted  by  emotions  of  joy,  to  rise  and 
sit  up ;  and  during  most  of  the  time,  my  feelings  prompted  me  to 
converse  very  earnestly,  with  one  and  another  of  the  pious  women, 
who  were  present,  on  those  spiritual  and  heavenly  objects,  of  which 
I  had  so  deep  an  impression.  A  little  while  before  I  arose,  Mr. 
Buell  and  the  people  went  to  meeting. 

"  I  continued  in  a  sweet  and  lively  sense  of  Divine  things,  until 
I  retired  to  rest.  That  night,  which  was  Thursday  night,  Jan.  28, 
was  the  sweetest  night  I  ever  had  in  my  life.  I  never  before,  for  so 
long  a  time  together,  enjoyed  so  much  of  the  light,  and  rest,  and 
sweetness  of  heaven  in  my  soul,  but  without  the  least  agitation  of 
body  during  the  whole  time.  The  great  part  of  the  night  I  lay 
awake,  sometimes  asleep,  and  sometimes  between  sleeping  and  wa- 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARDS.  315 

king.  But  all  night  I  continued  in  a  constant,  clear  and  lively  sense 
of  the  heavenly  sweetness  of  Christ's  excellent  and  transcendent 
love,  of  his  nearness  to  me,  and  of  my  dearness  to  him ;  with  an  in- 
expressibly sweet  calmness  of  soul  in  an  entire  rest  in  him.  I  seem- 
ed to  myself  to  perceive  a  glow  of  divine  love  come  down  from  the 
heart  of  Christ  in  heaven,  into  my  heart,  in  a  constant  stream,  like 
a  stream  or  pencil  of  sweet  light.  At  the  same  time,  my  heart  and 
soul  all  flowed  out  in  love  to  Christ ;  so  that  there  seemed  to  be  a 
constant  flowing  and  re-flowing  of  heavenly  and  divine  love,  from 
Christ's  heart  to  mine  ;  and  I  appeared  to  myself  to  float  or  swim, 
in  these  bright  sweet  beams  of  the  love  of  Christ,  like  the  motes 
swimming  in  the  beams  of  the  sun,  or  the  streams  of  his  light  which 
come  in  at  the  window.  My  soul  remained  in  a  kind  of  heavenly 
elysium.  So  far  as  I  am  capable  of  making  a  comparison,  I  think 
that  what  I  felt  each  minute,  during  the  continuance  of  the  whole 
time,  was  worth  more  than  all  the  outward  comfort  and  pleasure 
which  I  had  enjoyed  in  my  whole  life  put  together.  It  was  a  pure 
delight,  which  fed  and  satisfied  the  soul.  It  was  pleasure,  without 
the  least  sting,  or  any  interruption.  It  was  a  swreetness,  which  my 
soul  was  lost  in.  It  seemed  to  be  all  that  my  feeble  frame  could 
sustain,  of  that  fullness  of  joy,  which  is  felt  by  those,  who  behold 
the  face  of  Christ,  and  share  his  love  in  the  heavenly  world.  There 
was  but  little  difference,  whether  I  was  asleep  or  awake,  so  deep  was 
the  deep  impression  made  on  my  soul ;  but  if  there  was  any  differ- 
ence, the  sweetness  was  greatest  and  most  uninterrupted,  while  I 
was  asleep. 

"  As  I  awoke  early  the  next  morning,  which  was  Friday,  I  was 
led  to  think  of  Mr.  Williams  of  Hadley  preaching  that  day  in  the 
town,  as  had  been  appointed  ;  and  to  examine  my  heart,  whether 
I  was  willing  that  he,  who  was  a  neighboring  minister,  should  be  ex- 
traordinarily blessed,  and  made  a  greater  instrument  of  good  in  the 
town,  than  Mr.  Edwards ;  and  was  enabled  to  say,  with  respect  to 
that  matter,  "  Amen,  Lord  Jesus !"  and  to  be  entirely  willing,  if 
God  pleased,  that  he  should  be  the  instrument  of  converting  every 
soul  in  the  town.  My  soul  acquiesced  fully  in  the  will  of  God,  as  to 
the  instrument,  if  his  work  of  renewing  grace  did  but  go  on. 

"  This  lively  sense  of  the  beauty  and  excellency  of  divine  things, 
continued  during  the  morning,  accompanied  with  peculiar  sweetness 
and  delight.  To  my  own  imagination,  my  soul  seemed  to  be  gone 
out  of  me  to  God  and  Christ  in  heaven,  and  to  have  very  little  rela- 
tion to  my  body.  God  and  Christ  were  so  present  to  me,  and  so 
near  me,  that  I  seemed  removed  from  myself.  The  spiritual  beauty 
of  the  Father  and  the  Savior,  seemed  to  engross  my  whole  mind  ; 
and  it  was  the  instinctive  feeling  of  my  heart,  "  Thou  art ;  and  there 
is  none  beside  thee."  I  never  felt  such  an  entire  emptiness  of  self- 
love,  or  any  regard  to  any  private,  selfish  interest  of  my  own.  It 
seemed  to  me,    that  I  had  entirely  done  with  myself.     I  felt  that  the 


316  MEMOIRS    OF 

opinions  of  the  world  concerning  me  were  nothing,  and  that  I  had  no 
more  to  do  with  any  outward  interests  of  my  own,  than  with  that  of 
a  person  whom  I  never  saw.  The  glory  of  God  seemed  to  be  all, 
and  in  all,  and  to  swallow  up  every  wish  and  desire  of  my  heart. 

"Mr.  Sheldon  came  into  the  house  about  10  o'clock,  and  said  to 
me  as  he  came  in,  "  The  Sun  of  righteousness  arose  on  my  soul  this 
morning,  before  day;"  upon  which  I  said  to  him  in  reply,  "That 
Sun  has  not  set  upon  my  soul  all  this  night ;  I  have  dwelt  on  high  in 
the  heavenly  mansions ;  the  light  of  divine  love  has  surrounded  me ; 
my  soul  has  been  lost  in  God,  and  has  almost  left  the  body."  This 
conversation  only  served  to  give  me  a  still  livelier  sense  of  the  reality 
and  excellence  of  divine  things,  and  that  to  such  a  degree,  as  again  to 
take  away  my  strength,  and  occasion  great  agitation  of  body.  So 
strong  were  my  feelings,  I  could  not  refrain  from  conversing  with 
those  around  me,  in  a  very  earnest  manner,  for  about  a  quarter  of 
an  hour,  on  the  infinite  riches  of  divine  love  in  the  work  of  salva- 
tion :  when  my  strength  entirely  failing,  my  flesh  grew  very  cold, 
and  they  carried  me  and  set  me  by  the  fire.  As  I  sat  there,  I  had  a 
most  affecting  sense  of  the  mighty  power  of  Christ,  which  had  been 
exerted  in  what  he  had  done  for  my  soul,  and  in  sustaining  and 
keeping  down  the  native  corruptions  of  my  heart,  and  of  the  glorious 
and  wonderful  grace  of  God  in  causing  the  ark  to  return  to  Northamp- 
ton. So  intense  were  my  feelings,  when  speaking  of  these  things, 
that  I  could  not  forbear  rising  up  and  leaping  with  joy  and  exultation. 
I  felt  at  the  same  time  an  exceedingly  strong  and  tender  affection  for 
the  children  of  God,  and  realized,  in  a  manner  exceedingly  sweet 
and  ravishing,  the  meaning  of  Christ's  prayer,  in  John  xvii.  21, 
"  That  they  all  may  be  one,  as  thou  Father  art  in  me,  and  1  in  thee, 
that  they  also  may  be  one  in  ws."  This  union  appeared  to  me  an  in- 
conceivable, excellent  and  sweet  oneness ;  and  at  the  same  time  I 
felt  that  oneness  in  my  soul,  with  the  children  of  God  who  were 
present.  Mr.  Christophers  then  read  the  hymn  out  of  the  Peniten- 
tial cries,  beginning  with 

M  My  soul  doth  magnify  the  Lord, 
"  My  spirit  doth  rejoice  ;" 

The  whole  hymn  was  deeply  affecting  to  my  feelings :  but  when 
these  words  were  read, 

"  My  sighs  at  length  are  turn'd  to  songs, 
"  The  comforter  is  come  :" 

So  conscious  was  1  of  the  joyful  presence  of  the  holy  Spirit,  I  could 
scarcely  refrain  from  leaping  with  transports  of  joy.  This  happy 
frame  of  mind  continued  until  two  o'clock,  when  Mr.  Williams  came 
in,  and  we  soon  went  to  meeting.  He  preached  on  the  subject  of 
the  assurance  of  faith.  The  whole  sermon  was  affecting  to  me,  but 
especially  when  he  came  to  show  the  way  in  which  assurance  was 
obtained,  and  to  point  out  its  happy  fruits.     When  I  heard  him  say, 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARDS.  317 

that  those,  who  have  assurance,  have  a  foretaste  of  heavenly  glory,  I 
knew  the  truth  of  it  from  what  I  then  felt :  I  knew  that  I  then  tasted 
the  clusters  of  the  heavenly  Canaan  :  My  soul  was  filled  and  over- 
whelmed with  light  and  love,  and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost,  and  seemed 
just  ready  to  go  away  from  the  body.  1  could  scarcely  refrain  from 
expressing  my  joy  aloud,  in  the  midst  of  the  service.  I  had  in  the 
mean  time,  an  overwhelming  sense  of  the  glory  of  God,  as  the  Great 
Eternal  All,  and  of  the  happiness  of  having  my  own  will  entirely 
subdued  to  his  will.  I  knew  that  the  foretaste  of  glory,  which  I  then 
had  in  my  soul,  came  from  him,  that  I  certainly  should  go  to  him, 
and  should,  as  it  were,  drop  into  the  Divine  Being,  and  be  swal- 
lowed up  in  God. 

11  After  meeting  was  done,  the  congregation  waited  while  Mr. 
Buell  went  home  to  prepare  to  give  them  a  Lecture.  It  was  almost 
dark  before  he  came,  and  in  the  mean  time,  I  conversed  in  a  very 
earnest  and  joyful  manner,  with  those  who  were  with  me  in  the  pew. 
My  mind  dwelt  on  the  thought,  that  the  Lord  God  Omnipotent  reign- 
eth,  and  it  appeared  to  me  that  he  was  going  to  set  up  a  reign  of 
love  on  the  earth,  and  that  heaven  and  earth  were,  as  it  were,  coming 
together ;  which  so  exceedingly  moved  me  that  I  could  not  forbear 
expressing  aloud,  to  those  near  me,  my  exultation  of  soul.  This 
subsided  into  a  heavenly  calm,  and  a  rest  of  soul  in  God,  which  was 
even  sweeter  than  what  preceded  it.  Afterwards  Mr.  Buell  came 
and  preached ;  and  the  same  happy  frame  of  mind  continued  during 
the  evening,  and  night,  and  the  next  day.  In  the  forenoon  I  was 
thinking  of  the  manner  in  which  the  children  of  God  had  been  trea- 
ted in  the  world — particularly  of  their  being  shut  up  in  prison — and 
the  folly  of  such  attempts  to  make  them  miserable,  seemed  to  sur- 
prise me.  It  appeared  astonishing,  that  men  should  think,  by  this 
means,  to  injure  those  who  had  such  a  kingdom  within  them.  To- 
wards night,  being  informed  that  Mrs.  P had  expressed   her 

fears  least  I  should  die  before  Mr.  Edwards'  return,  and  he  should 
think  the  people  had  killed  his  wife  ;  I  told  those  who  were  present, 
that  I  chose  to  die  in  the  way  that  was  most  agreeable  to  God's  will, 
and  that  I  should  be  willing  to  die  in  darkness  and  horror,  if  it  was 
most  for  the  glory  of  God. 

11  In  the  evening,  I  read  those  chapters  in  John,  which  contain 
Christ's  dying  discourse  with  his  disciples,  and  his  prayer  with  them. 
After  I  had  done  reading,  and  was  in  my  retirement,  a  little  before 
bed  time,  thinking  on  what  I  had  read,  my  soul  was  so  filled  with 
love  to  Christ,  and  love  to  his  people,  that  I.  fainted  under  the  in- 
tenseness  of  the  feeling.  I  felt  while  reading,  a  delightful  acquies- 
cence in  the  petition  to  the  Father — "  1  pray  not  that  thou  shouldst 
take  them  out  of  the  world,  but  that  thou  shouldst  keep  them  from 
evil"  Though  it  seemed  to  me  infinitely  better  to  die  to  go  to 
Christ,  yet  I  felt  an  entire  willingness  to  continue  in  this  world  so 
long  as  God  pleased,  to  do  and  suffer  what  he  would  have  me. 


318  MEMOIRS  OF 

"  After  retiring  to  rest  and  sleeping  a  little  while,  I  awoke  and  had 
a  very  lively  consciousness  of  God's  being  near  me.  1  had  an  idea 
of  a  shining  way,  or  path  of  light,  between  heaven  and  my  soul, 
somewhat  as  on  Thursday  night,  except  that  God  seemed  nearer  to 
me,  and  as  it  were  close  by,  and  the  way  seemed  more  open,  and 
the  communication  more  immediate  and  more  free.  I  lay  awake 
most  of  the  night,  with  a  constant  delightful  sense  of  God's  great  love 
and  infinite  condescension,  and  with  a  continual  view  of  God  as  near, 
and  as  my  God.  My  soul  remained,  as  on  Thursday  night,  in  a  kind 
of  heavenly  elysium.  Whether  waking  or  sleeping,  there  was  no  in- 
terruption, throughout  the  night,  to  the  views  of  my  soul,  to  its  heav- 
enly light,  and  divine,  inexpressible  sweetness.  It  was  without  any 
agitation  or  motion  of  the  body.  I  was  led  to  reflect  on  God's  mer- 
cy to  me,  in  giving  me,  for  many  years,  a  willingness  to  die ;  and 
after  that,  for  more  than  two  years  past,  in  making  me  willing  to  live, 
that  I  might  do  and  suffer  whatever  he  called  me  to  here ;  whereas, 
before  that,  1  often  used  to  feel  impatient  at  the  thought  of  living. 
This  then  appeared  to  me,  as  it  had  often  done  before,  what  gave 
me  much  the  greatest  sense  of  thankfulness  to  God.  I  also  thought 
how  God  had  graciously  given  me,  for  a  great  while,  an  entire  re- 
signation to  his  will,  with  respect  to  the  kind  and  manner  of  death 
that  I  should  die  ;  having  been  made  willing  to  die  on  the  rack,  or  at 
the  stake,  or  any  other  tormenting  death,  and,  if  it  were  God's  will, 
to  die  in  darkness  :  and  how  I  had  that  day  been  made  very  sensi- 
ble and  fully  willing,  if  it  was  God's  pleasure  and  for  his  glory,  to 
die  in  horror.  But  now  it  occurred  to  me,  that  when  I  had  thus 
been  made  willing  to  live,  and  to  be  kept  on  this  dark  abode,  I  used 
to  think  of  living  no  longer  than  to  the  ordinary  age  of  man.  Upon 
this  I  was  led  to  ask  myself,  Whether  I  was  not  willing  to  be  kept 
out  of  heaven  even  longer ;  and  my  whole  heart  seemed  immediate- 
ly to  reply,  "  Yes,  a  thousand  years,  if  it  be  God's  will,  and  for  his 
honor  and  glory  :"  and  then  my  heart,  in  the  language  of  resignation, 
went  further,  and  with  great  alacrity  and  sweetness,  to  answer  as  it 
were  over  and  over  again,  "Yes,  and  live  a  thousand  years  in  hor- 
ror, if  it  be  most  for  the  glory  of  God  :  yea,  I  am  willing  to  live  a 
thousand  years  a  hell  upon  earth,  if  it  be  most  for  the  honor  of 
God."  But  then  I  considered  with  myself,  What  this  would  be,  to 
live  a  hell  upon  earth,  for  so  long  a  time ;  and  I  thought  of  the  tor- 
ment of  my  body  being  so  great,  awful  and  overwhelming,  that  none 
could  bear  to  live  in  the  country  where  the  spectacle  was  seen,  and 
of  the  torment  and  horror  of  my  mind  being  vastly  greater  than  the 
torment  of  my  body ;  and  it  seemed  to  me  that  I  found  a  perfect 
willingness,  and  sweet  quietness  and  alacrity  of  soul,  in  consenting 
that  it  should  be  so,  if  it  were  most  for  the  glory  of  God ;  so  that 
there  was  no  hesitation,  doubt  or  darkness  in  my  mind,  attending 
the  thoughts  of  it,  but  my  resignation  seemed  to  be  clear,  like  a  light 
that  shone  through  my  soul.     I  continued  saying,  "  Amen,  Lord  Je- 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARDS.  319 

sus !  Amen,  Lord  Jesus !  glorify  thyself  in  me,  in  my  body  and  my 
soul," — with  a  calm  and  sweetness  of  soul,  which  banished  all  reluc- 
tance. The  glory  of  God  seemed  to  overcome  me  and  swallow  me 
up,  and  every  conceivable  suffering,  and  every  thing  that  was  terri- 
ble to  my  nature,  seemed  to  shrink  to  nothing  before  it.  This  resig- 
nation continued  in  its  clearness  and  brightness  the  rest  of  the  night, 
and  all  the  next  day,  and  the  night  following,  and  on  Monday  in  the 
forenoon,  without  interruption  or  abatement.  All  this  while,  when- 
ever I  thought  of  it,  the  language  of  my  soul  was,  with  the  great- 
est fullness  and  alacrity,  "Amen,  Lord  Jesus!  Amen,  Lord  Jesus !" 
In  the  afternoon  of  Monday,  it  was  not  quite  so  perceptible  and  live- 
ly, but  my  mind  remained  so  much  in  a  similar  frame,  for  more  than 
a  week,  that  I  could  never  think  of  it  without  an  inexpressible  sweet- 
ness in  my  soul. 

"  After  I  had  felt  this  resignation  on  Saturday  night,  for  some  time 
as  I  lay  in  bed,  I  felt  such  a  disposition  to  rejoice  in  God,  that  I  wish- 
ed to  have  the  world  join  me  in  praising  him  ;  and  was  ready  to  won- 
der how  the  world  of  mankind  could  lie  and  sleep,  when  there  was 
such  a  God  to  praise,  and  rejoice  in,  and  could  scarcely  forbear  call- 
ing out  to  those  who  were  asleep  in  the  house,  to  arise,  and  rejoice, 
and  praise  God.  When  I  arose  on  the  morning  of  the  Sabbath,  I 
felt  a  love  to  all  mankind,  wholly  peculiar  in  its  strength  and  sweet- 
ness, far  beyond  all  that  I  had  ever  felt  before.  The  power  of  that 
love  seemed  to  be  inexpressible.  I  thought,  if  I  were  surrounded 
by  enemies,  who  were  venting  their  malice  and  cruelty  upon  me,  in 
tormenting  me,  it  would  still  be  impossible  that  I  should  cherish  any 
feelings  towards  them  but  those  of  love,  and  pity  and  ardent  desires 
for  their  happiness.  At  the  same  time  I  thought,  if  I  were  cast  off 
by  my  nearest  and  dearest  friends,  and  if  the  feelings  and  conduct  of 
my  husband  were  to  be  changed  from  tenderness  and  afFection,  to 
extreme  hatred  and  cruelty,  and  that  every  day,  I  could  so  rest  in 
God,  that  it  would  not  touch  my  heart,  or  diminish  my  happiness.  I 
could  still  go  on  with  alacrity  in  the  performance  of  every  act  of  du- 
ty, and  my  happiness  remain  undiminished  and  entire. 

"  I  never  before  felt  so  far  from  a  disposition  to  judge  and  censure 
others,  with  respect  to  the  state  of  their  hearts,  their  sincerity,  or  their 
attainments  in  holiness,  as  I  did  that  morning.  To  do  this,  seemed 
abhorrent  to  every  feeling  of  my  heart.  I  realized  also,  in  an  unu- 
sual and  very  lively  manner,  how  great  a  part  of  Christianity  lies  in 
the  performance  of  our  social  and  relative  duties  to  one  another. 
The  same  lively  and  joyful  sense  of  spiritual  and  divine  things  con- 
tinued throughout  the  day — a  sweet  love  to  God  and  all  mankind, 
and  such  an  entire  rest  of  soul,  in  God,  that  it  seemed  as  if  nothing 
that  could  be  said  of  me,  or  done  to  me,  could  touch  my  heart,  or 
disturb  my  enjoyment.  The  road  between  heaven  and  my  soul  seem- 
ed open  and  wide,  all  the  day  long ;  and  the  consciousness  I  had  of 
the  reality  and  excellence  of  heavenly  things  was  so  clear,  and  the 


320  MEMOIRS  Off 

affections  they  excited  so  intense,  that  it  overcame  my  strength,  and 
kept  my  body  weak  and  faint,  the  great  part  of  the  day,  so  that  I 
could  not  stand  or  go  without  help.  The  night  also  was  comforting 
and  refreshing. 

"  This  delightful  frame  of  mind  was  continued  on  Monday.  About 
noon,  one  of  the  neighbors,  who  was  conversing  with  me,  expressed 
himself  thus,  "  One  smile  from  Christ  is  worth  a  thousand  million 
pounds,"  and  the  words  affected  me  exceedingly,  and  in  a  manner 
which  I  cannot  express.  I  had  a  strong  sense  of  the  infinite  worth 
of  Christ's  approbation  and  love,  and  at  the  same  time  of  the  gross- 
ness  of  the  comparison ;  and  it  only  astonished  me,  that  any  one 
could  compare  a  smile  of  Christ  to  any  earthly  treasure. — Towards 
night,  I  had  a  deep  sense  of  the  awful  greatness  of  God,  and  felt  with 
what  humility  and  reverence  we  ought  to  behave  ourselves  before 

him.     Just  then  Mr.  W came  in,  and  spoke  with  a  somewhat 

light,  smiling  air,  of  the  flourishing  state  of  religion  in  the  town ; 
which  I  could  scarcely  bear  to  see.  It  seemed  to  me,  that  we  ought 
greatly  to  revere  the  presence  of  God,  and  to  behave  ourselves  with 
the  utmost  solemnity  and  humility,  when  so  great  and  holy  a  God 
was  so  remarkably  present,  and  to  rejoice  before  him  with  trem- 
bling.— In  the  evening,  these  words,  in  the  Penitential  Cries, — "The 
Comforter  is  come  !" — were  accompanied  to  my  soul  with  such 
conscious  certainty,  and  such  intense  joy,  that  immediately  it  took 
away  my  strength,  and  I  was  falling  to  the  floor ;  when  some  of  those 
who  were  near  me  caught  me  and  held  me  up.  And  when  I  repeat- 
ed the  words  to  the  by-standers,  the  strength  of  my  feelings  was  in- 
creased. The  name — "The  Comforter" — seemed  to  denote  that 
the  Holy  Spirit  was  the  only  and  infinite  Fountain  of  comfort  and 
joy,  and  this  seemed  real  and  certain  to  my  mind.  These  words — 
"  The  Comforter" — seemed  as  it  were  immensely  great,  enough 
to  fill  heaven  and  earth. 

"  On  Tuesday  after  dinner,  Mr.  Buell,  as  he  sat  at  table,  began  to 
discourse  about  the  glories  of  the  upper  world  ;  which  greatly  affec- 
ted me,  so  as  to  take  away  my  strength.  The  views  and  feelings  of 
the  preceding  evening,  respecting  the  Great  Comforter,  were  renew- 
ed in  the  most  lively  and  joyful  manner ;  so  that  my  limbs  grew  cold, 
and  I  continued  to  a  considerable  degree  overcome  for  about  an  hour, 
earnestly  expressing  to  those  around  me,  my  deep  and  joyful  sense 
of  the  presence  and  divine  excellence  of  the  Comforter,  and  of  the 
glories  of  heaven. 

"  It  was  either  on  Tuesday,  or  Wednesday,  that  Mr.  W came 

to  the  house,  and  informed  what  account  Mr.  Lyman,  who  was  just 
then  come  from  Leicester,  on  his  way  from  Boston,  gave  of  Mr.  Ed- 
wards's success,  in  making  peace  and  promoting  religion  at  Leices- 
ter. The  intelligence  inspired  me  with  such  an  admiring  sense  of 
the  great  goodness  of  God,  in  using  Mr.  Edwards  as  the  instrument 
of  doing  good,  and  promoting  the  work  of  salvation.,  that  it  immedi- 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARDS.  321 

diately  overcame  me,  and  took  away  my  strength,  .so  that  I  could  no 
longer  stand  on  my  feet.  On  Wednesday  night,  Mr.  Clark,  com- 
ing in  with  Mr.  Buell  and  some  of  the  people,  asked  me  how  I  felt. 
I  told  him  that  I  did  not  feel  at  all  times  alike,  but  this  I  thought  I 
could  say,  that  I  had  given  up  all  to  God,  and  there  is  nothing  like  it, 
nothing  like  giving  up  all  to  him,  esteeming  all  to  be  his,  and  resign- 
ing all  at  his  call.  1  told  him  that,  many  a  time  within  a  twelve- 
month, I  had  asked  myself  when  I  lay  down,  How  I  should  feel,  if 
our  house  and  all  our  property  in  it  should  be  burnt  up,  and  we 
should  that  night  be  turned  out  naked ;  whether  I  could  cheerfully 
resign  all  to  God  ;  and  whether  1  so  saw  that  all  was  his,  that  I  could 
fully  consent  to  his  will,  in  being  deprived  of  it  ?  and  that  I  found, 
so  far  as  I  could  judge,  an  entire  resignation  to  his  will,  and  felt  that, 
if  he  should  thus  strip  me  of  every  thing,  I  had  nothing  to  say,  but 
should,  I  thought,  have  an  entire  calm  and  rest  in  God,  for  it  was 
his  own,  and  not  mine.  After  this,  Mr.  Phelps  gave  us  an  account 
of  his  own  feelings,  during  a  journey  from  which  he  had  just  re- 
turned ;  and  then  Mr.  Pomeroy  broke  forth  in  the  language  of  joy, 
and  thankfulness  and  praise,  and  continued  speaking  to  us  nearly  an 
hour,  leading  us  all  the  time  to  rejoice  in  the  visible  presence  of 
God,  and  to  adore  his  infinite  goodness  and  condescension.  He  con- 
cluded by  saying,  "  I  would  say  more,  if  I  could ;  but  words  were 
not  made  to  express  these  things."  This  reminded  me  of  the  words 
of  Mrs.  Rowe  : 

"  More  I  would  speak,  but  all  my  words  are  faint : 
"  Celestial  Love,  what  eloquence  can  paint  ? 
"  No  more,  by  mortal  words,  can  be  expressed ; 
"  But  vast  Eternity  shall  tell  the  rest ;" 

and  my  former  impressions  of  heavenly  and  divine  things  were  re- 
newed with  so  much  power,  and  life  and  joy,  that  my  strength  all  fail- 
ed me,  and  I  remained  for  some  time  faint  and  exhausted.  After 
the  people  had  retired,  I  had  a  still  more  lively  and  joyful  sense  of 
the  goodness  and  all-sufficiency  of  God,  of  the  pleasure  of  loving 
him,  and  of  being  alive  and  active  in  his  service,  so  that,  I  could  not 
sit  still,  but  walked  the  room  for  some  time,  in  a  kind  of  transport. 
The  contemplation  was  so  refreshing  and  delightful,  so  much  like  a 
heavenly  feast  within  the  soul,  that  I  felt  an  absolute  indifference  as 
to  any  external  circumstances ;  and,  according  to  my  best  remem- 
brance, this  enlivening  of  my  spirit  continued  so,  that  I  slept  but  little 
that  night. 

"  The  next  day,  being  Thursday,  between  ten  and  eleven  o'clock 
and  a  room  full  of  people  being  collected,  I  heard  two  persons  give 
a  minute  account  of  the  enlivening  and  joyful  influences  of  the  Holy 
Spirit  on  their  own  hearts.  It  was  sweet  to  me,  to  see  others  before 
me  in  their  divine  attainments,  and  to  follow  after  them  to  heaven. 
I  thought  I  should  rejoice  to  follow  the  negro  servants  in  the  town  to 
heaven.     While  I  was  thus  listening,  the  consideration  of  the  blessed 

41 


322  MEMOIRS  OF 

appearances  there  were  of  God's  being  there  with  us,  affected  me 
so  powerfully,  that  the  joy  and  transport  of  the  preceding  night  were 
again  renewed.  After  this,  they  sang  a  hymn,  which  greatly  moved 
me,  especially  the  latter  part  of  it,  which  speaks  of  the  ungrateful- 
ness of  not  having  the  praises  of  Christ  always  on  our  tongues.  Those 
last  words  of  the  hymn  seemed  to  fasten  on  my  mind,  and  as  I  re- 
peated them  over,  I  felt  such  intense  love  to  Christ,  and  so  much  de- 
light in  praising  him,  that  I  could  hardly  forbear  leaping  from  my 
chair,  and  singing  aloud  for  joy  and  exultation.  I  continued  thus 
extraordinarily  moved  until  about  one  o'clock,  when  the  people  went 
away." 

It  is  true  indeed,  that  very  different  views  will  be  formed  of  the 
preceding  narrative,  by  different  individuals.  Those,  who  have  no 
conception  of  what  is  meant  by  the  religion  of  the  heart,  will  doubt- 
Jess  pronounce  it  the  offspring  of  a  diseased  body,  or  a  distempered 
brain.  Others,  who  profess  the  religion  of  Christ,  but  whose  minds 
usually  come  in  contact  with  nothing  which  is  not  merely  palpable — 
with  nothing  but  what  they  can  either  see,  or  hear,  or  feel,  or  taste, 
— will  probably  regard  it  as  the  effects  of  mere  enthusiasm.  While 
others,  who  are  both  more  intellectual  and  more  spiritual  in  their 
objects  of  contemplation,  will  at  once  perceive,  that  the  state  of  mind 
therein  described,  is  one  to  which  they  themselves  are  chiefly  or 
wholly  strangers ;  and  will  therefore  very  naturally,  and  rationally 
wish  to  learn,  somewhat  more  minutely,  the  circumstances  of  the  in- 
dividual who  was  the  subject  of  these  spiritual  discoveries,  as  well 
as  their  actual  effects  upon  her  character.  On  these  points,  the  tes- 
timony of  Mr.  Edwards  is  full  and  explicit ;  and  from  his  authority, 
we  state  the  following  facts. 

At  this  time,  Mrs.  Edwards  bad  been  long,  in  an  uncommon  man- 
ner, growing  in  grace,  and  rising,  by  very  sensible  degrees,  to  high- 
er love  to  God,  weanedness  from  the  world,  and  mastery  over  sin 
and  temptation,  through  great  trials  and  conflicts,  and  long  continued 
struggling  and  fighting  with  sin,  and  earnest  and  constant  prayer  and 
labor  in  religion,  and  engagedness  of  mind  in  the  use  of  all  means, 
attended  with  a  great  exactness  of  life ;  and  this  growth  had  been 
attended,  not  only  with  a  great  increase  of  religious  affections,  but 
with  a  most  visible  alteration  of  outward  behavior ;  particularly  in 
living  above  the  world,  and  in  a  greater  degree  of  steadfastness  and 
strength  in  the  way  of  duty  and  self-denial ;  maintaining  the  christian 
conflict  against  temptations,  and  conquering  from  time  to  time  under 
great  trials ;  persisting  in  an  unmoved,  untouched  calm  and  rest,  under 
the  changes  and  accidents  of  time,  such  as  seasons  of  extreme  pain, 
and  apparent  hazard  of  immediate  death.  These  transports  did 
not  arise  from  bodily  weakness,  but  were  greatest  in  the  best  state  of 
health.  They  were  accompanied  with  a  lively  sense  of  the  greatness 
of  God,  and  her  own  littleness  and  vileness ;  and  had  abiding  effects, 
in  the  increase  of  the  sweetness,  rest  and  humility,  which  they  left 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARDS.  323 

upon  the  soul,  and  in  a  new  engagedness  of  heart  to  live  to  the  hon- 
or of  God,  and  to  watch  and  fight  against  sin.  They  were  attended 
with  no  enthusiastical  disposition  to  follow  impulses,  or  supposed 
revelations,  nor  with  any  appearance  of  spiritual  pride ;  but  on  the 
contrary,  with  a  very  great  increase  of  meekness,  and  humility,  and 
a  disposition  in  honor  to  prefer  others,  as  well  as  with  a  great  aver- 
sion to  judging  others,  and  a  strong  sense  of  the  importance  of  mor- 
al, social  duties.  They  were  accompanied  with  an  extraordinary 
sense  of  the  awful  majesty  of  God,  so  as  frequently  to  take  away  the 
bodily  strength ;  with  a  sense  of  the  holiness  of  God,  as  of  a  flame 
infinitely  pure  and  bright,  so  as  oftentimes  to  overwhelm  soul  and 
body;  with  an  extraordinary  view  of  the  infinite  terribleness  of  his 
wrath,  of  the  exceeding  sinfulness  of  her  own  heart,  and  of  a  desert 
of  that  wrath  forever ;  with  an  intense  sorrow  for  sin,  so  as  entirely 
to  prostrate  the  strength  of  the  body  ;  with  a  clear  certainty  of  the 
truth  of  the  great  things  revealed  in  the  Gospel ;  with  an  overwhelm- 
ing sense  of  the  glory  of  the  work  of  redemption,  and  the  way  of 
salvation  by  Jesus  Christ,  of  the  glorious  harmony  of  the  Divine  at- 
tributes appearing  therein,  as  that  wherein  mercy  and  truth  have  met 
together,  and  righteousness  and  peace  have  kissed  each  other  ;  with 
a  sight  of  the  glorious  sufficiency  of  Christ,  a  constant  immoveable 
trust  in  God,  an  overwhelming  sense  of  his  glorious  unsearchable 
wisdom,  a  sweet  rejoicing  at  his  being  infinitely  and  unchangeably 
happy,  independent  and  all-sufficient,  at  his  reigning  over  all,  and 
doing  his  own  will  with  uncontrollable  power  and  sovereignty;  with  a 
delightful  sense  of  the  glory  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  as  the  great  Comfor- 
ter ;  with  intense  desires  for  the  honor  and  glory  of  God's  name,  a  clear 
and  constant  preference  of  it,  not  only  to  her  own  temporal  interests, 
but  to  her  spiritual  comfort;  with  a  willingness  to  live  and  die  in  spir- 
itual darkness,  if  the  honor  of  God  required  it,  a  great  lamenting  of 
ingratitude,  intense  longings  and  faintings  after  higher  love  to  Christ, 
and  greater  conformity  to  him — particularly  to  be  more  perfect  in  hu- 
mility and  adoration ;  with  great  delight  in  singing  praises  to  God  and 
Jesus  Christ,  a  desire  that  this  present  life  might  be  one  continued  song 
of  praise,  and  an  overcoming  pleasure  at  the  thought  of  spending  eterni- 
ty in  that  exercise ;  with  a  living  by  faith  in  a  very  unusual  manner; 
with  a  uniform  distrust  of  her  own  strength,  and  a  great  dependence 
on  God  for  help ;  with  intense  longings  that  all  christians  might  be 
fervent  in  love,  and  active  in  the  service  of  God  ;  with  taking  pleasure 
in  watchfulness  and  toil,  self-denial  and  bearing  the  cross ;  with  a 
melting  compassion  for  those  who  were  in  a  state  of  nature,  and  for 
christians  under  darkness,  a  universal  benevolence  to  all  mankind, 
a  willingness  to  endure  any  suffering  for  the  conversion  of  the  im- 
penitent— her  compassion  for  them  being  often  to  that  degree,  that 
she  could  find  no  support  nor  rest,  but  in  going  to  God  and  pour- 
ing out  her  soul  in  prayer  for  them  ;  with  earnest,  desires  that  the 
then  existing  work  of  Divine  grace  might  be  carried  on  with  greater 


324  MEMOIRS  OF 

purity,  and  freedom  from  all  bitter  zeal,  censoriousness,  spiritual 
pride  and  angry  controversy,  and  that  the  kingdom  of  Christ  might 
be  established  through  the  earth,  as  a  kingdom  of  holiness,  peace, 
and  joy ;  with  unspeakable  delight  in  the  thoughts  of  heaven,  as  a  world 
of  love,  where  love  shall  be  the  saints'  eternal  food,  where  they  shall 
dwell  in  the  light  of  love,  and  where  the  very  air  and  breath  will  be 
nothing  but  love ;  intense  love  to  the  people  of  God,  as  to  those  who 
will  soon  wear  his  perfect  image ;  with  earnest  desires  that  others 
might  love  God  better  than  herself,  and  attain  to  higher  degrees  of 
holiness ;  with  a  delight  in  conversing  on  the  most  spiritual  and 
heavenly  things  in  religion,  often  engaging  in  such  conversation,  with  a 
degree  of  feeling  too  intense  to  be  long  endured  ;  and  with  a  lively 
sense  of  the  importance  of  charity  to  the  poor,  as  well  as  of  the 
need  which  ministers  have  of  the  influences  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and 
earnest  longings  and  wrestlings  with  God  for  them  in  prayer.  She 
had  also,  according  to  Mr.  Edwards,  the  greatest,  fullest,  longest 
continued,  and  most  constant  Assurance  of  the  favor  of  God,  and  of  a 
title  to  future  glory,  that  he  ever  saw  any  appearance  of,  in  any  per- 
son ; — enjoying,  especially  near  the  time  in  which  he  made  this  state- 
ment, to  use  her  own  expression,  the  riches  of  Full  Assurance  ; 
as  well  as  an  uninterrupted,  entire  resignation  to  God,  with  respect 
to  health  or  sickness,  ease  or  pain,  life  or  death,  and  an  entire  resig- 
nation of  the  lives  of  her  nearest  earthly  friends.  These  things  were 
attended  with  a  constant,  sweet  peace  and  serenity  of  soul,  without 
a  cloud  to  interrupt  it,  a  continual  rejoicing  in  all  the  works  of  nature 
and  providence,  a  wonderful  access  to  God  by  prayer,  sensibly  con- 
versing with  him,  as  much  as  if  Christ  were  here  on  earth ;  frequent, 
plain,  sensible  and  immediate,  answers  of  prayer,  all  tears  wiped  away, 
all  former  troubles  and  sorrows  of  life  forgotten,  excepting  sorrow 
for  sin,  doing  every  thing  for  God  and  his  glory,  doing  it  as  the  ser- 
vice of  love,  with  a  continual,  uninterrupted  cheerfulness,  peace  and 
joy.  "  O  how  good,"  she  once  observed,  "is  it  to  work  for  God  in 
the  day  time,  and  at  night  to  lie  down  under  his  smiles."  Instead  of 
slighting  the  means  of  grace  in  consequence  of  these  discoveries,  she 
was  never  more  sensible  of  her  need  of  instruction ;  instead  of  re- 
garding herself  as  free  from  sin,  she  was  led  by  her  clearer  sight  of 
the  Divine  holiness,  to  perceive  more  fully  the  sinfulness  of  her  own 
heart ;  instead  of  neglecting  the  business  of  life,  she  performed  it 
with  greater  alacrity,  as  a  part  of  the  service  of  God — declaring 
that,  when  thus  done,  it  was  as  delightful  as  prayer  itself.  At  the 
same  time,  she  discovered  an  extreme  anxiety  to  avoid  every  sin,  and 
to  discharge  every  moral  obligation,  was  most  exemplary  in  the  per- 
formance of  every  social  and  relative  duty,  exhibiting  great  inoffen- 
siveness  of  life  and  conversation,  great  meekness,  gentleness  and  be- 
nevolence of  spirit,  and  avoided,  with  remarkable  conscientiousness, 
all  those  things,  which  she  regarded  as  failings  in  her  own  character. 


MRS.  SARAH  EDWARDS.  325 

To  those,  who,  after  reading  this  statement  of  facts,  still  regard  the 
preceding  narrative  as  the  offspring  of  enthusiasm,  we  shall  draw 
our  reply  from  Mr.  Edwards  himself:  "Now  if  such  things  are  en- 
thusiasm, and  the  offspring  of  a  distempered  brain ;  let  my  brain  be 
possessed  evermore  of  that  happy  distemper  !  If  this  be  distraction  ; 
I  pray  God  that  the  world  of  mankind  may  all  be  seized  with  this 
benign,  meek,  beneficent,  beatific,  glorious  distraction  !  What  no- 
tion have  they  of  true  religion,  who  reject  what  has  here  been  descri- 
bed ?  What  shall  we  find  to  correspond  with  these  expressions  of 
Scripture,  The  peace  of  God,  that  passeth  all  understanding :  Re- 
joicing with  joy  unspeakable,  and  full  of  glory :  God's  shining  into 
our  hearts,  to  give  the  light  of  the  knowledge  of  the  glory  of  God  in 
the  face  of  Jesus  Christ :  With  open  face,  beholding  as  in  a  glass 
the  glory  of  God,  and  being  changed  into  the  same  image,  from  glory 
to  glory,  even  as  by  the  Spirit  of  the  Lord :  Being  called  out  of  dark- 
ness into  marvelous  light:  and  having  the  day-star  arise  in  our 
heart:  What  let  me  ask,  if  these  things  that  have  been  mentioned 
do  not  correspond  with  these  expressions ;  what  else  can  we  find  that 
does  correspond  with  them  ?" 

Mr.  Edwards  adds,  that  he  had  witnessed  many  instances,  in 
Northampton  and  elsewhere,  of  other  persons,  which  were  in  general, 
of  the  same  kind  with  these,  though  not  so  high  in  degree,  in  any  in- 
stance ;  and,  in  many  of  them,  not  so  pure  and  unmixed,  or  so  well 
regulated.  In  some  individuals,  who  discovered  very  intense  religious 
affections,  there  was  obviously  a  great  mixture  of  nature  with  grace, 
and  in  some  a  sad  degenerating  of  religious  affections ;  yet,  in  most 
instances,  they  were  uniform  in  their  character,  and  obviously  the  re- 
sult of  fervent  piety. 

The  character  of  Mrs.  Edwards's  piety,  which  led  her  to  secure 
to  others  as  well  as  herself,  the  enjoyment  of  the  peace  of  God,  is 
exhibited  in  the  following  anecdote,  related  by  Dr.  Hopkins  in  his 
life  of  President  Edwards. 

"  In  the  month  of  December,"  he  observes,  "being  furnished  with 
a  horse,  I  set  out  for  Northampton,  with  a  view  to  live  with  Mr.  Ed- 
wards, where  I  was  an  utter  stranger.  When  I  arrived  there,  Mr. 
Edwards  was  not  at  home ;  but  I  was  received  with  great  kindness  by 
Mrs.  Edwards  and  the  family,  and  had  encouragement  that  I  might 
live  there  during  the  winter.  Mr.  Edwards  was  absent  on  a  preach- 
ing tour,  as  people  in  general  were  greatly  attentive  to  religion  and 
preaching,  which  was  attended  with  remarkable  effects,  in  the  con- 
viction and  supposed  conversion  of  multitudes.  I  was  very  gloomy, 
and  was  most  of  the  time  retired  in  my  chamber.  After  some  days. 
Mrs.  Edwards  came  into  my  chamber,  and  said,  "  As  I  was  now  be- 
come a  member  of  the  family  for  a  season,  she  felt  herself  interest- 
ed in  my  welfare ;  and,  as  she  observed  that  I  appeared  gloomy  and 
dejected,  she  hoped  I  would  not  think  she  intruded,  by  her  desiring 
to  know,  and  asking  me  what  was  the  occasion  of  it,"  or  to  that  pur- 


326  MEMOIRS  OF 

pose.  I  told  her  the  freedom  she  used  was  agreeable  to  me  ;  that 
the  occasion  of  the  appearance  which  she  mentioned,  was  the  state 
in  which  I  considered  myself.  I  was  in  a  Christless,  graceless  state, 
and  had  been  under  a  degree  of  conviction  and  concern  for  myself, 
for  a  number  of  months ;  had  got  no  relief,  and  my  case,  instead  of 
growing  better,  appeared  to  grow  worse.  Upon  which  we  entered 
into  a  free  conversation ;  and  on  the  whole  she  told  me,  that  she  had 
peculiar  exercises  in  prayer  respecting  me,  since  I  had  been  in  the 
family;  that  she  trusted  I  should  receive  light  and  comfort,  and 
doubted  not  that  God  intended  yet  to  do  great  things  by  me." 

President  Edwards  himself  was  fully  sensible  of  the  value  of  his 
amiable  and  excellent  consort.  Much  of  the  tender  and  affection- 
ate was  expressed  in  his  conversation  with  her,  and  in  all  his  con- 
duct towards  her.  He  was  often  visited  by  her  in  his  study,  and 
conversed  freely  with  her  on  matters  of  religion ;  and  he  used  com- 
monly to  pray  with  her  in  his  study,  at  least  once  a  day,  unless  some- 
thing extraordinary  prevented.  The  season  for  this  was  commonly 
in  the  evening,  after  prayers  in  the  family,  just  before  going  to  bed. 
As  he  rose  very  early  himself,  he  was  wont  to  have  his  family  up  be- 
times in  the  morning ;  after  which,  before  they  entered  on  the  busi- 
ness of  the  day,  he  attended  on  family  prayers ;  when  a  chapter  in 
the  Bible  was  read,  commonly,  by  candle  light  in  the  winter ;  upon 
which  he  asked  his  children  questions,  according  to  their  age  and 
capacity ;  and  took  occasion  to  explain  some  passages  in  it,  or  enforce 
any  duly  recommended,  as  he  thought  proper. 

Under  the  guidance  of  such  parents,  laboring  unitedly  and  harmo- 
niously for  their  offspring's  best  good,  it  would  naturally  be  expected 
that  the  children,  who  enjoyed  their  instructions,  would  profit  by  it  in 
an  eminent  degree.  Such  was  the  case,  and  many  of  their  eleven 
children  were  distinguished  for  piety  and  usefulness.  Jerusha,  the 
second  daughter,  who  died  at  the  age  of  nineteen,  had  been  the  ob- 
ject of  the  sincere  regard  and  affection  of  all  who  knew  her,  and 
particularly  of  the  eminent  David  Brainerd,  who  died  at  Mr.  Ed- 
wards's house  but  a  few  months  before  her.  Her  father,  in  a  note 
to  the  Memoirs  of  Brainerd,  thus  alludes  to  this  distressing  event. 
"  Since  this,  it  has  pleased  a  holy  and  sovereign  God,  to  take  away 
this  my  dear  child  by  death,  on  the  14th  of  February,  next  follow- 
ing, after  a  short  illness  of  five  days,  in  the  eighteenth  year  of  her 
age.  She  was  a  person  of  much  the  same  spirit  with  Brainerd.  She 
had  constantly  taken  care  of,  and  attended  him  in  his  sickness,  for 
nineteen  weeks  before  his  death ;  devoting  herself  to  it  with  great 
delight,  because  she  looked  on  him  as  an  eminent  servant  of  Jesus 
Christ.  In  this  time,  he  had  much  conversation  with  her  on  the 
things  of  religion ;  and,  in  his  dying  state,  often  expressed  to  us,  her 
parents,  his  great  satisfaction  concerning  her  true  piety,  and  his  con- 
fidence that  he  should  meet  her  in  heaven,  and  his  high  opinion  of 
her  not  only  as  a  real  christian,  but  as  a  very  eminent  saint :  one 


MBS.    SARAH    EDWARDS,  327 

whose  soul  was  uncommonly  fed  and  entertained  with  things  which 
pertain  to  the  most  spiritual,  experimental  and  distinguishing  parts 
of  religion  ;  and  one,  who,  by  the  temper  of  her  mind,  was  fitted 
to  deny  herself  for  God,  and  to  do  good,  beyond  any  young  woman 
whatsoever  whom  he  knew.  She  had  manifested  a  heart  uncom- 
monly devoted  to  God  in  the  course  of  her  life,  many  years  before 
her  death ;  and  said  on  her  death-bed,  that  she  had  not  seen  one 
minute,  for  several  years,  wherein  she  desired  to  live  one  minute  long- 
er,  for  the  sake  of  any  other  good  in  life,  but  doing  good,  living  to 
God,  and  doing  what  might  be  for  his  glory." 

The  third  daughter,  Esther,  afterwards  became  the  wife  of  the 
Rev.  Aaron  Burr,  President  of  New  Jersey  College,  at  Princeton. 

President  Burr  died  at  Princeton,  September  25,  1757,  and  im- 
mediately after  that  event,  Mr.  Edwards  was  chosen  to  succeed  his 
son-in-law,  in  the  presidency  of  the  college.  He  accepted  the  call, 
and  in  the  beginning  of  the  next  year  went  to  Princeton,  to  enter  on 
the  duties  of  his  office. 

"  The  small  pox  had  now  become  very  common  in  the  country, 
and  was  then  at  Princeton,  and  likely  to  spread.  And  as  Mr.  Ed- 
wards had  never  had  it,  and  inoculation  was  then  practised  with 
great  success  in  those  parts,  he  proposed  to  be  inoculated,  if  the 
physician  should  advise  to  it,  and  the  corporation  would  give  their 
consent.  Accordingly,  by  the  advice  of  the  physician,  and  the  con- 
sent of  the  corporation,  he  was  inoculated  February  13th.  He 
had  it  favorably,  and  it  was  thought  all  danger  was  over ;  but  a 
secondary  fever  set  in,  and,  by  reason  of  a  number  of  pustules  in 
his  throat,  the  obstruction  was  such,  that  the  medicines  necessary  to 
check  the  fever,  could  not  be  administered.  It  therefore  raged  till 
it  put  an  end  to  his  life,  on  the  22d  of  March,  1758,  in  the  55th 
year  of  his  age. 

The  physician,  who  inoculated  and  constantly  attended  him,  in 
his  sickness,  addressed  the  following  letter  to  Mrs.  Edwards,  on  this 
occasion : 

"To  Mrs.  Sarah  Edwards,  Stockbridge. 

"Princeton,  March  22,  1758. 
"  Most  dear  and  very  worthy  Madam, 

"  I  am  heartily  sorry  for  the  occasion  of  my  writing  to  you,  by 
this  express,  but  I  know  you  have  been  informed,  by  a  line  from 
your  excellent,  lovely  and  pious  husband,  that  I  was  brought  here 
to  inoculate  him,  and  your  dear  daughter  Esther,  and  her  children, 
for  the  small  pox,  which  was  then  spreading  fast  in  Princeton ;  and 
that,  after  the  most  deliberate  and  serious  consultation,  with  his 
nearest  and  most  religious  friends,  he  was  accordingly  inoculated 
with  them,  the  23d  of  last  month ;  and  although  he  had  the  small 
pox  favorably,  yet,  having  a  number  of  them  in  the  roof  of  his 
mouth  and  throat,  he  could  not  possibly  swallow  a  sufficient  quantity 


328  MEMOIRS    OF 

of  drink,  to  keep  off  a  secondary  fever,  which  has  proved  too  strong 
for  his  feeble  frame ;  and  this  afternoon,  between  two  and  three 
o'clock,  it  pleased  God  to  let  him  sleep  in  that  dear  Lord  Jesus, 
whose  kingdom  and  interest  he  has  been  faithfully  and  painfully 
serving  all  his  life.  And  never  did  any  mortal  man,  more  fully  and 
clearly  evidence  the  sincerity  of  all  his  professions,  by  one  continu- 
ed, universal,  calm,  cheerful  resignation,  and  patient  submission  to 
the  divine  will,  through  every  stage  of  his  disease,  than  he ;  not  so 
much  as  one  discontented  expression,  nor  the  least  appearance  of 
murmuring,  through  the  whole.  And  never  did  any  person  expire 
with  more  perfect  freedom  from  pain ; — not  so  much  as  one  distort- 
ed hair — but  in  the  most  proper  sense  of  the  words,  he  fell  asleep. 
Death  had  certainly  lost  its  sting,  as  to  him. 

"  Your  daughter,  Mrs.  Burr,  and  her  children,  through  the  mer- 
cy of  God,  are  safely  over  the  disease,  and  she  desires  me  to  send 
her  duty  to  you,  the  best  of  mothers.  She  has  had  the  small  pox 
the  heaviest  of  all,  whom  I  have  inoculated,  and  little  Sally,  far  the 
lightest ;  she  has  but  three  in  her  face.  I  am  sure  it  will  prove  ser- 
viceable to  her  future  health. 

"  I  conclude,  with  my  hearty  prayer,  dear  Madam,  that  you  may 
be  enabled  to  look  to  that  God,  whose  love  and  goodness  you  have 
experienced  a  thousand  times,  for  direction  and  help,  under  this 
most  afflictive  dispensation  of  his  providence,  and  under  every  other 
difficulty,  you  may  meet  with  here,  in  order  to  your  being  more 
perfectly  fitted  for  the  joys  of  heaven,  hereafter. 
"  I  am,  dear  Madam, 

"  Your  most  sympathizing 
"And  affectionate  friend, 
"And  very  humble  servant, 

"William  Shippen." 

This  letter  reached  Mrs.  Edwards,  while  in  a  feeble  state  of 
health,  when  she  was  preparing  to  pay  a  visit,  first  to  her  sister, 
Mrs.  Hopkins,  at  West  Springfield,  and  then  to  her  mother,  Mrs. 
Edwards,  of  Windsor,  in  consequence  of  the  death  of  Mr.  Edwards's 
father.  What  her  feelings  were,  and  those  of  her  family,  under  this 
unexpected  and  overwhelming  dispensation,  can  be  more  easily  con- 
ceived than  described. 

"  She  had  long  told  her  intimate  friends,  that  she  had,  after  long 
struggles  and  exercises,  obtained,  by  God's  grace,  a  habitual  wil- 
lingness to  die  herself,  or  part  with  any  of  her  most  near  relatives. 
That  she  was  willing  to  bring  forth  children  for  death ;  and  to  resign 
up  him,  whom  she  esteemed  so  great  a  blessing  to  her  and  her 
family,  her  nearest  partner,  to  the  stroke  of  death,  whenever  God 
should  see  fit  to  take  him.  And  when  she  had  the  greatest  trial,  in 
the  death  of  Mr.  Edwards,  she  found  the  help  and  comfort  of  such 
a  disposition.     Her  conduct  on  this  occasion,  was  such  as  to  excite 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARDS.  329 

the  admiration  of  her  friends ;  it  discovered  that  she  was  sensible  of 
the  great  loss,  which  she  and  her  children  had  sustained  in  his  death; 
and,  at  the  same  time,  showed  that  she  was  quiet  and  resigned,  and 
had  those  invisible  supports,  which  enabled  her  to  trust  in  God  with 
quietness,  hope,  and  humble  joy." 

A  few  days  afterwards,  she  addressed  the  following  letter  to 
Mrs.  Burr. 

"  Stockbridge*  April  3,  1758. 

"MY  VERY  DEAR  CHILD, 

"  What  shall  I  say !  A  holy  and  good  God  has  covered  us  with 
a  dark  cloud.  O  that  we  may  kiss  the  rod,  and  lay  our  hands  on 
our  mouths!  The  Lord  has  done  it.  He  has  made  me  adore  his 
goodness,  that  we  had  him  so  long.  But  my  God  lives ;  and  he 
has  my  heart.  O  what  a  legacy  my  husband,  and  your  father,  has 
left  us  !  We  are  all  given  to  God  ;  and  there  I  am,  and  love  to  be. 
"  Your  ever  affectionate  mother, 

"  Sarah  Edwards." 

On  the  same  sheet,  was  the  following  letter  from  one  of  her 
daughters. 

"My  dear  Sister, 

"  My  mother  wrote  this,  with  a  great  deal  of  pain,  in  her  neck, 
which  disabled  her  from  writing  any  more.  She  thought  you  would 
be  glad  of  these  few  lines  from  her  own  hand. 

"  O,  sister,  how  many  calls  have  we,  one  upon  the  back  of  an- 
other. O,  I  beg  your  prayers,  that  we,  who  are  young  in  this  fami- 
ly, may  be  awakened  and  excited  to  call  more  earnestly  on  God, 
that  he  would  be  our  Father  and  friend  forever. 

"  My  father  took  leave  of  all  his  people  and  family  as  affection- 
ately, as  if  he  knew  he  should  not  come  again.  On  the  Sabbath 
afternoon,  he  preached  from  these  words, —  We  have  no  continuing 
city,  therefore  let  us  seek  one  to  come.  The  chapter  that  he  read 
was  Acts  the  20th.  O,  how  proper ;  what  could  he  have  done 
more.  When  he  had  got  out  of  doors  he  turned  about, — "  I  com- 
mit you  to  God," — said  he.  I  doubt  not  but  God  will  take  a  father- 
ly care  of  us,  if  we  do  not  forget  him. 

"  I  am  your  ever  affectionate  sister, 

"Susannah  Edwards." 

"Stockbridge,  April  3,  1758. 

"  Mrs.  Burr  and  her  children  were  inoculated,  at  the  same  time 
that  her  father  was,   and   had  recovered  when  he  died.     But  after 

*  Mr.  Edwards,  after  his  dismission  from  Northampton,  in  1750,  removed  to  Stock- 
bridge,  where  he  labored  as  a  pastor  of  the  church  and  a  missionary  among  the  In- 
dian-, till  he  was  railed  to  Princeton.  He  left  his  family  there  for  a  short  time,  till 
he  should  make  arrangements  for  their  removal. 

42 


330  MEMOIRS  OF 

she  was  perfectly  recovered,  to  all  appearance,  she  was  suddenly 
seized  with  a  violent  disorder,  which  carried  her  off  in  a  few  days ; 
and  which,  the  physician  said,  he  could  call  by  no  name,  but  that 
of  a  messenger,  sent  suddenly,  to  call  her  out  of  the  world.  She 
died,  April  7,  1758,  sixteen  days  after  her  father,  in  the  27th  year 
of  her  age.  She  was  married  to  Mr.  Burr,  June  29,  1752.  They 
had  two  children,  a  son  and  a  daughter.  This  son  was  Aaron  Burr, 
afterwards  Vice  President  of  the  United  States ; — the  daughter  be- 
came the  wife  of  the  Hon.  Tapping  Reeve,  of  Litchfield,  Judge  of 
the  Supreme  Court  of  Connecticut. 

"  Mrs.  Burr  exceeded  most  of  her  sex,  in  the  beauty  of  her 
person,  as  well  as  in  her  behavior  and  conversation.  She  discov- 
ered an  unaffected,  natural  freedom,  towards  persons  of  all  ranks, 
with  whom  she  conversed.  Her  genius  was  much  more  than  com- 
mon. She  had  a  lively,  sprightly  imagination,  a  quick  and  pene- 
trating discernment  and  a  good  judgment.  She  possessed  an  un- 
common degree  of  wit  and  vivacity ;  which  yet  was  consistent  with 
pleasantness  and  good  nature ;  and  she  knew  how  to  be  facetious 
and  sportive,  without  trespassing  on  the  bounds  of  decorum,  or  of 
strict  and  serious  religion.  In  short,  she  seemed  formed  to  please, 
and  especially  to  please  one  of  Mr.  Burr's  taste  and  character,  in 
whom  he  was  exceedingly  happy.  But  what  crowned  all  her  ex- 
cellences, and  was  her  chief  glory,  was  Religion.  She  appear- 
ed to  be  the  subject  of  divine  impressions,  when  seven  or  eight 
years  old ;  and  she  made  a  public  profession  of  religion,  when 
about  fifteen.  Her  conversation,  until  her  death,  was  exemplary, 
as  becometh  godliness."  She  was,  in  every  respect,  an  ornament 
to  her  sex,  being  equally  distinguished  for  the  suavity  of  her  man- 
ners, her  literary  accomplishments,  and  her  unfeigned  regard  to  re- 
ligion. Her  religion  did  not  cast  a  gloom  over  her  mind,  but  made 
her  cheerful  and  happy,  and  rendered  the  thought  of  death  trans- 
porting. She  left  a  number  of  manuscripts,  on  interesting  subjects, 
and  it  was  hoped  they  would  have  been  made  public;  but  they 
are  now  lost. 

Mrs.  Edwards  did  not  long  survive  her  husband.  In  Septem- 
ber, she  set  out,  in  good  health,  on  a  journey  to  Philadelphia,  to 
take  care  of  her  two  orphan  grand-children,  which  were  now  in 
that  city ;  and  had  been,  since  the  death  of  Mrs.  Burr.  As  they 
had  no  relations  in  those  parts,  Mrs.  Edwards  proposed  to  take 
them  into  her  own  family.  She  arrived  there,  by  the  way  of 
Princeton,  Sept.  21,  in  good  health,  having  had  a  comfortable 
journey.  But,  in  a  few  days,  she  was  seized  wtth  a  violent  dysen- 
tery, which,  on  the  fifth  day,  put  an  end  to  her  life,  October  2d, 
1758,  in  the  49th  year  of  her  age.  She 'said  not  much  in  her 
sickness  ;  being  exercised,  most  of  the  time,  with  violent  pain.  On 
the  morning  of  the  day  she  died,  she  apprehended  her  death  was 
near,  when  she  expressed  her  entire  resignation  to  God,  and  her 


MRS.    SARAH    EDWARDS.  331 

desire  that  he  might  be  glorified  in  all  things ;  and  that  she  might 
be  enabled  to  glorify  him  to  the  last :  and  continued  in  such  a  tem- 
per, calm  and  resigned,  till  she  died. 

Her  remains  were  carried  to  Princeton,  and  deposited  with  those 
of  Mr.  Edwards.  Thus  they,  who  were  in  their  lives  remarkably 
lovely  and  pleasant,  in  their  death  were  not  much  divided.  Here, 
the  father  and  mother,  the  son  and  daughter,  were  laid  together  in 
the  grave,  within  the  space  of  a  little  more  than  a  year ;  though  a 
few  months  before,  their  dwelling  was  more  than  one  hundred  and 
fifty  miles  apart : — two  Presidents  of  the  same  College,  and  their 
consorts,  than  whom,  it  will  doubtless  be  hard  to  find  four  persons, 
more  valuable  and  useful ! 

Note. — This  memoir  of  Mrs.  Edwards,  is  extracted  and  abridged  from  The  Life 
of  President  Edwards,  by  Sereno  E.  Dwight.  Those  parts  which  are  marked  by- 
quotation  points,  when  not  otherwise  explained,  were  taken  from  The  Life  of  Presi- 
dent Edwards,  by  Dr.  Hopkins.  The  rest  was  mostly  borrowed  from  a  memoir  of 
Mr.  Edwards,  appended  to  an  edition  of  Edwards's  Life,  published  at  Northampton. 
We  are  indebted  to  Dwight's  work,  merely  as  a  collection  of  valuable  documents, 
which  had  previously  existed  in  a  scattered  state. 


332 


MRS.   SARAH  OSBORN. 


Mrs.  Sarah  Osborn,  was  born  in  London,  on  February  22, 
1714.  Her  father  was  Mr.  Benjamin  Haggar.  Her  mother  was 
Mrs.  Susanna  Haggar,  whose  maiden  name  was  Guyse.  She  was 
sister  to  the  Reverend  Doctor  John  Guyse  of  London.  Mrs.  Os- 
born came  to  America,  with  her  mother,  in  the  year  1722,  in  the 
ninth  year  of  her  age,  her  father  having  been  here  for  some  time  be- 
fore. They  lived  in  Boston  a  short,  time,  and  then  moved  to  Free- 
town, on  the  east  side  of  Taunton  river,  near  fifty  miles  south  of 
Boston,  and  above  twenty  miles  from  Newport.  In  the  year  1729, 
they  moved  to  Newport  on  Rhode  Island,  where  she  lived  till  her 
decease. 

The  following  is  an  extract  from  an  account  of  the  first  thirty  years 
of  her  life,  written  by  herself. 

Having  been  for  some  years  strongly  inclined  to  write  something 
of  what  I  can  remember  of  the  dealings  of  God  with  my  soul  from  a 
child,  I  now,  being  about  thirty  years  old,  atttempt  to  do  it;  hoping 
it  may  consist  with  the  glory  of  God,  at  which  I  trust,  through  grace, 
I  sincerely  aim  :  And  the  good  of  my  own  soul,  as  a  msan  to  stir  up 
gratitude  in  the  most  ungrateful  of  all  hearts,  even  mine,  to  a  glori- 
ous and  compassionate  Savior,  for  all  his  benefits  towards  so  vile  a 
monster  in  sin  as  I  am  :  And  for  the  encouragement  of  any  who  may 
providentially  light  on  these  lines  after  my  decease,  to  trust  in  the 
Lord,  and  never  despair  of  mercy,  since  one  so  stubborn  and  rebel- 
lious as  I  have  been,  has  obtained  it,  through  the  sovereign  riches  of 
free  grace.  But  Oh,  let  all  tremble  at  the  thought  of  abusing  a  Sav- 
ior so,  lest  God  should  say,  "  Let  them  alone,  they  shall  never  enter 
into  my  rest." 

Lord,  humble  me  for  my  base  ingratitude;  and  help  me,  by  af- 
fording me  the  influences  and  assistance  of  thy  blessed  Spirit,  that  I 
may  be  impartial  in  this  work,  declaring  the  truth,  and  nothing  but 
the  truth  ;  and  in  all  that,  have  a  single  eye  to  thy  glory.  O,  for  Je- 
sus' sake,  suffer  me  not  to  do  any  thing  that  will  tend  to  puff  up  self. 
O,  remove  all  spiritual  pride,  and  keep  me  low  at  the  feet  of  Jesus. 
Fill  me  with  adoring  and  admiring  thoughts  of  thee,  O  God  the  Fa- 
ther, God  the  Son,  and  God  the  Holy  Ghost,  who  has  so  wonderfully 
contrived  and  wrought  out  my  redemption ;  and  though  thou  hast, 
through  infinite  wisdom,  hid  these  things  from  the  wise  and  prudent, 
yet  hast  revealed  them  unto  babes ;  and  even  to  me,  the  most  igno- 
rant and  vile  of  all  creatures :  Whose  deep  rooted  enmity  against 
thee  and  thy  laws  broke  out  into  action,  as  soon  as  I  was  capable  of 
any.     The  first  that  I  can  remember  of  actual  sins,  of  which  I  was 


MEMOIRS,    &C.  333 

guilty,  was  telling  a  lie.  And  then  that  text  of  scripture  often  rang 
in  my  ears,  "All  liars  shall  have  their  part  in  the  lake  which  burnetii 
with  fire  and  brimstone." 

I  was  frequently  under  the  strivings  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  pressing 
me  to  forsake  sin,  and  repent  and  perform  duties :  But  sometimes 
found  them  very  burdensome  to  me ;  such  as  praying  and  saying 
many  good  things,  which  I  was  frequently  taught.  Blessed  be  God 
for  such  instructions.  Sometimes  I  loved  them,  and  was  much  af- 
fected with  them  :  But  my  corruptions  prevailed  dreadfully,  an  an- 
gry temper  stirring  in  me  ;  especially  when  corrected  by  my  mother. 
But  I  acknowledge,  to  the  glory  of  God,  that  he  preserved  such  a  ten- 
derness of  conscience  in  me,  that  if  at  any  time  rny  mother  convinced 
me  that  she  did  it  because  it  wras  her  duty,  and  for  my  sin  against 
God,  I  could  bear  it  patiently,  and  willingly,  yea  thankfully. 

Thus  I  continued  till  I  was  about  seven  or  eight  years  old  ;  when, 
my  father  being  in  New  England,  my  mother  put  me  to  a  boarding 
school,  about  three  miles  from  London,  where  every  thing  was  de- 
lightful to  me.  I  was  constantly  taught  things  that  wTere  religious, 
and  they  all  became  sweet  to  me,  so  that  I  verily  thought  I  lived  a 
heaven  upon  earth.  O,  how  sweet  were  Sabbaths  !  And  for  secret 
prayer,  I  would  not  have  omitted  it  for  all  the  world  ;  nay,  the  sin  of 
omitting  it  appeared  so  monstrous,  and  such  a  dreadful  thing,  that  I 
dare  not  lie  down  without  it :  In  this  I  was  doubtless  governed  by  a 
legal  spirit.  I  was  frequently  much  enlarged  in  that  duty,  and  used 
to  weep  much  when  confessing  my  sins,  and  pleading  for  the  pardon 
of  them,  and  for  an  interest  in  Christ.  The  name  of  Christ  was 
sweet  to  me,  and  sin  appeared  more  hateful.  I  often  used  to  re- 
prove others,  when  guilty  of  it.  But  once  in  particular,  I  remem- 
ber, when  I  was  at  Hertford,  where  my  grandmother  lived,  and  my 
brother  with  her,  a  little  time  before  we  came  to  New  England,  my 
brother  did  something  which  I  thought  was  wTicked,  and  I  reproved 
him  sharply  for  it ;  but  was  much  perplexed,  after  I  had  done  it,  with 
these  words  of  scripture,  "  Thou  hypocrite,  first  cast  out  the  beam 
out  of  thine  own  eye  ;  and  then  shalt  thou  see  clearly  to  cast  out  the 
mote  out  of  thy  brother's  eye."  This  frighted  me  exceedingly.  I 
thought  I  was  a  vile  hypocrite,  and  should  never  dare  to  reprove  any 
body  again.  And,  I  suppose,  a  hypocrite  I  was.  But  at  last  I  told 
my  grandmother  of  it,  who  encouraged  me  to  go  on,  telling  me  it  was 
my  duty  so  to  do ;  and  if  I  was  faithful,  God  would  bless  me,  and 
love  me. 

So  I  continued  for  a  while,  as  I  thought,  to  delight  in  the  ways  of 
holiness.  But  alas  !  alas  !  how  soon  was  it  over  !  My  goodness  was 
like  the  morning  cloud  and  the  early  dew,  which  soon  passeth  away ; 
for  wlien  I  was  in  my  ninth  year  my  father  sent  for  my  mother  and 
me  to  come  to  New  England  to  him.  And  on  board  the  ship  I  lost 
my  good  impressions,  and  grew  vile,  so  that  I  could  then  play  upon 
the  Sabbath.     But  was  convinced  of  that  sin  by  an  accident*  which 


334  MEMOIRS  OF 

befel  me ;  or  rather  what  was  ordered  by  infinite  wisdom  for  that  end. 
For  as  I  was  busy  in  boiling  something  for  my  amusement,  I  fell  into 
the  fire  with  my  right  hand,  and  burnt  it  all  over  ;  which  I  presently 
thought  came  justly  upon  me  for  playing  on  the  Sabbath  day  :  And  I 
was  ashamed  and  sorry  I  had  done  so. 

But  after  this  I  do  not  remember  any  particular  conviction  for 
some  years;  but  was  changeable  and  inconstant,  sometimes  quite 
careless,  and  then  more  diligent  in  the  performance  of  prayer.  I 
had  always,  as  I  thought,  a  great  love  for  those  who  I  believed  were 
good  people,  especially  ministers.  My  very  heart  would  leap  with 
joy,  when  I  could  see,  or  come  near  enough  to  touch  them.  I  men- 
tion this  as  a  childish  notion,  that  I  took  such  pleasure  in  touching 
them.  I  used  to  go  secretly  behind  them  for  that  purpose.  I  thought 
I  could  do  any  thing  in  my  power  to  serve  them. 

About  two  years  and  an  half  after  we  came  to  Boston,  my  parents 
moved  to  Freetown,  and  I  with  them.  And  when  I  was  about  thir- 
teen years  old,  my  mother  went  from  thence  to  Newport  on  Rhode 
Island,  and  went  to  visit  Mr.  Clap,  who  gave  her  a  little  book  of  spir- 
itual songs  for  me,  and  desired  her  to  give  it  to  me,  and  tell  me  that 
it  came  from  one  who  was  a  hearty  well  wisher  to  my  soul.  These 
words  immediately  seized  me,  and  filled  me  with  shame  to  think 
that  one  whom  I  never  knew  should  take  such  care  of  my  precious 
soul,  while  I  was  so  careless  myself.  And  from  that  minute  I  thought 
I  had  a  grateful  love  for  Mr.  Clap,  and  longed  to  sit  under  his  minis- 
try. I  was  then  for  some  time  under  strong  convictions.  Had  such 
a  sense  of  the  hardness  of  my  heart,  that  I  often  thought  it  was  im- 
possible for  me  to  be  sufficiently  awakened  by  any  ordinary  means ; 
and  prayea1  that  God  would  do  any  thing  with  me,  though  ever  so 
terrible,  so  that  1  might  be  driven  from  my  evil  courses,  and  turned 
to  God.  Some  change  I  thought  must  be  wrought  in  me,  or  I  should 
never  get  to  heaven  ;  but  after  what  manner,  I  knew  not.  Howev- 
er, I  resolved  to  persist  in  the  way  of  duty,  as  I  called  it,  and  to  for- 
sake my  sins,  and  lead  a  new  life.  But,  fool  that  I  was,  I  made  res- 
olutions in  my  own  strength,  and  built  upon  my  own  works ;  and  so 
soon  fell  again.  O,  amazing  grace,  that  God  should  spare  such  a 
wretch  as  me,  such  an  abuser  of  mercy  ! 

After  this  I  found  myself  dead,  and  to  have  no  heart,  as  I  thought, 
to  pray,  nor  any  sweetness  in  it,  when  I  did.  Then,  O  how  I  long- 
ed for  the  return  of  the  spirit  of  God,  imagining  he  was  withdrawn 
from  me.  Sometimes  I  did  agonize  in  prayer,  and  plead  with  God 
that  he  would  return  to  me  by  his  Spirit  once  more.  But  was  often 
answered  by  these  words,  "  My  Spirit  shall  not  always  strive  with 
man."  Then  I  would  beg,  and  promise  that  if  God  would  try  me 
this  once,  I  would  never  grieve  or  resist  his  Spirit  again.  O,  wretch 
that  I  was !  thus  to  lie  to  the  glorious  God,  who  was  then  striving 
with  me,  to  bring  me  to  his  Son ;  for  I  did,  1  did  quench  his  mo- 
tions,  and  soon  forgot  my  promises.     O,   deceitful  and  dreadfully 


MRS.    SARAH    0SB0RN.  335 

wicked  heart !  who  can  know  it  ?  Lord,  I  am  amazed  at  thy  patience 
that  I  am  out  of  hell. 

Sometime  after  this,  contrary  to  my  parents'  commands,  I  got  into 
a  canoe  to  paddle  about  in  the  river,*  and  could  not  get  on  shore 
again.  It  being  in  the  night,  though  the  moon  shined  bright,  %I  ex- 
pected no  other  but  to  be  drowned.  Once  I  thought  to  get  out,  and 
pull  the  canoe  to  the  shore ;  but  I  tried  first  if  I  could  reach  the 
bottom  with  my  paddle  :  and  finding  I  could  not,  durst  not  venture. 
Then  I  could  see  no  probability  of  escaping  death.  So  I  kneeled 
down  and  prayed,  and  all  my  former  convictions  revived  :  and  the 
sin  of  disobedience  to  my  parents  especially  appeared  odious.  I 
thought  that  it  was  just  that  God  should  bring  me  into  this  distress 
for  this  sin ;  and  with  great  vehemence  and  self-abhorrence  confess- 
ed my  sins,  with  their  aggravations  before  God,  pleading  for  an  inte- 
rest in  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  for  pardon  for  his  sake,  for  that,  and 
all  my  other  sins.  And  while  I  was  praying,  I  felt  a  secret  joy,  ver- 
ily believing  that  I  was  forgiven,  and  that  Christ  had  loved  me  with 
an  everlasting  love,  and  that  I  should  be  happy  with  him  and  longed 
for  the  time.  I  was  immediately  resigned,  as  I  thought,  to  the  will 
of  God,  quite  willing  to  die,  and  willing  to  live ;  begging  that  God 
would  dispose  of  me  as  most  consisted  with  his  glory.  Ana1  after  I 
had  thus  resigned  myself,  as  I  thought  soul  and  body  into  the  hands 
of  God,  to  do  with  me  as  seemed  good  to  him,  I  was  as  calm  and 
serene  in  the  temper  of  my  mind,  as  ever  in  my  life. 

But  at  length  I  bethought  myself,  that  self  preservation  was  a 
great  duty,  and  therefore  I  ought  to  try  to  get  on  shore.  So  I  hallo- 
ed as  loud  as  I  could  to  the  neighbors,  who  with  much  difficulty 
were  made  to  hear,  and  came  to  me  some  hours  after.  There  was 
not  another  canoe  within  two  or  three  miles ;  for  I  had  been  driven 
by  the  tide  some  miles,  first  up  and  then  down  the  river. 

How  it  would  have  been  with  my  soul,  if  God  had  taken  me  out 
of  the  world  at  that  time,  he  only  knows.  Some  christians  have 
thought,  a  saving  change  was  then  wrought,  and  that  I  should  have 
been  happy. 

After  this,  I  was  more  diligent  in  pursuing,  as  I  thought,  the  ways 
of  holiness  in  the  way  God  had  appointed  :  and  more  watchful 
against  sin.  My  life  was  pleasant  and  sweet.  I  had  great  enlarge- 
ments in  duties.  But  at  length  grew  cold  again.  O  ungrateful  soul 
to  forget  such  a  remarkable  deliverance  from  death. 

The  next  winter  I  was  as  wonderfully  preserved.  The  weather 
being  exceeding  cold,  the  river  was  frozen,  so  that  people,  horses, 
and  teams  went  over  on  the  ice.  But  while  it  was  hard  and  slippery,  I 
durst  not  venture  on  it,  for  fear  of  falling.  But  after  a  great  thaw, 
so  that  the  ice  looked  quite  black,  I  contrary  to  my  parents'  orders 


*  The  house  stood  by  Taunton  river,  which  was  navigable. 


336  MEMOIRS    OF 

again,  they  being  from  home,  went  quite  over  to  the  other  side,  which 
was  a  mile.  But  the  tide  was  rising,  so  I  could  not  get  on  shore  : 
and  when  I  looked  around  me,  I  could  see  nothing  but  great  holes,  as 
large  as  houses,  or  larger,  some  of  them.  There  was  no  way  for 
me,  but  to  go  straight  back  again  ;  which  I  did.  But  the  water  was 
almost  over  shoes  all  the  way ;  and  the  ice,  it  seemed  to  me,  bent 
every  step  I  took.  And  when  I  got  back,  the  water  was  so  risen, 
that  I  was  much  beset  to  get  on  shore  :  and  it  was  in  the  dusk  of 
the  evening.  But  at  last,  with  much  difficulty,  I  found  a  strip  of  ice 
as  narrow  as  a  bridge  which  reached  the  shore,  by  which  I  got  to 
land.  But  when  I  had  got  off,  and  saw  the  imminent  danger  to 
which  I  had  exposed  myself,  by  my  folly  and  presumption,  it  made 
me  tremble  exceedingly.  I  presently  thought  again,  how  just  God 
would  have  been,  if  I  had  been  drowned  for  my  disobedience  to  my 
parents ;  and  wondered  at  his  patience  in  sparing  me :  But  do  not 
remember,  that  I  felt  any  abiding  impressions;  so  great  was  my  wo- 
ful  stupidity  :  though  I  think  I  kept  on  praying,  &c.  As  to  the  river, 
the  wind  rose  presently,  and  blew  very  hard  from  the  south,  so  that 
it  with  the  tide,  broke  it  up,  that  before  bed  time  there  was  not  a 
piece  of  ice  of  any  bigness  within  sight  of  our  house,  which  stood 
close  by  the  river.  1  am  amazed,  when  I  consider  how  wonderfully 
God  preserved  me,  a  poor  sinful  worm,  so  unworthy  of  the  least 
mercy. 

The  next  March,  we  removed  to  Dighton,*  where  we  lived  one 
year.  I  remember  but  one  awakening  in  that  time;  and  that  was  by 
hearing  of  the  death  of  one  of  my  former  associates  in  Freetown, 
a  young  girl,  about  my  age. 

Then  I  was  again  astonished  at  the  patience  of  God,  in  sparing 
me  alive  and  out  of  hell.  Then  I  renewed  my  resolutions  to  lead  a 
new  life.  But  instead  of  that,  in  the  spring  we  moved  to  Rhode 
Island,  where  I  soon  got  into  company,  and  was  full  of  vanity.  But 
my  conscience  would  not  let  me  be  easy. 

After  some  sore  trials  and  temptations,  I  was  more  comfortable, 
and  had  a  great  desire,  I  thought  to  forsake  all  sin,  and  to  comply 
with  every  commanded  duty.  I  longed  to  join  to  the  church;  but 
thought  I  was  unworthy.  I  thought  I  thirsted  for  communion  with 
God  in  the  ordinance  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  and  used  to  think,  if  I 
came  to  that,  it  would  certainly  be  a  restraint  upon  me,  so  that  1 
should  not  dare  to  sin  as  others  did.  And  when  I  stayed  to  see  the 
ordinance  administered,  I  used  to  think  I  could  give  all  this  world,  I 
were  fit  to  attend  it.  My  spirit  would  even  sink  within  me  for  the 
longings  I  had.  Sometimes  I  would  weep  so  that  I  could  not  con- 
ceal it.  One  sabbath,  I  went  to  hear  Mr.  Clap  preach  at  his  own 
house,  where  I  inclined  to  go  constantly ;  but  my  parents  went  to 


*  A  town  on  the  other  side  of  Taunton  river. 


MRS.    SARAH    OSBORN.  337 

the  other  meeting,  and  were  not  pleased  I  should  go  from  them  :  so 
I  went  but  seldom.  But  at  this  time  there  was  a  girl  about  fourteen 
years  old  baptized,  which  so  affected  me  that  I  could  hardly  refrain 
from  crying  out  in  the  meeting,  when  I  thought  how  I  had  broken  the 
covenant  engagements,  which  my  parents  had  made  with  God,  in  my 
behalf,  in  my  infancy,  and  so  long  abused  so  great  a  privilege,  as 
being  a  child  of  the  covenant :  and  she,  who  had  not  had  so  much 
done  for  her,  should  now  come  to  desire  it  herself!  I  saw,  as  I 
thought,  such  a  beauty  in  her,  that  I  loved  her  entirely,  and  wished 
to  be  as  as  I  thought  she  was.  I  made  new  resolutions  to  live  an- 
swerable to  the  mercies  I  had  received  ;  but  being  made  in  my  own 
strength  I  soon  fell  again.  I  thought  I  trusted  in  God  ;  and  used 
frequently,  in  times  of  trial,  to  go  and  pour  out  my  complaints  to  him 
thinking  he  was  my  only  support.  But  I  dare  not  now  be  positive, 
or  really  conclude,  that  I  knew  what  it  was  to  put  my  trust  in  God ; 
for  my  conduct  after  this  seems  so  inconsistent  with  grace,  that  I  dare 
not  say  I  had  one  spark  of  it  then ;  but  rather  think  I  was  only  un- 
der a  common  work  of  the  Spirit :  though  sometimes  1  think  I  had 
true  grace,  though  very  weak.  God  only  knows  how  it  was.  O 
that  he  would  enable  me  now  to  give  diligence  to  make  my  calling 
and  election  sure,  that  I  may  not  be  deceived  in  a  matter  of  so 
great  importance.  But  to  go  on.  After  this  (O  that  with  deep  hu- 
mility of  soul,  with  sorrow  and  shame,  I  could  speak  of  it)  I  relap- 
sed again,  and  was  full  of  vanity.  I  kept  company  with  a  young 
man,  something  against  my  parent's  will.  But  that  was  owing  to 
false  reports  raised  of  him ;  for  at  first  they  liked  him.  I  made 
resolutions,  that,  after  I  was  married,  I  would  lead  a  new  life,  flatter- 
ing myself  that  then  I  should  not  have  the  hinderances  which  1  now 
had.  I  used  bitterly  to  reflect  upon  myself,  when  I  had  given  myself 
liberty  to  be  merry ;  for  though  I  appeared  outwardly  so,  I  had  no 
real  pleasure  :  but  still  put  off  repentance,  or  an  entire  breaking  off 
from  vanity,  till  a  more  convenient  season  ;  and  so  resisted  the  Spi- 
rit of  God.  O  Lord,  how  just  hadst  thou  been,  if  thou  hadst  left 
me  entirely  to  myself!  and  if  thou  hadst,  nothing  would  have  been 
too  bad  for  such  a  vile  wretch  as  I  to  have  committed.  But  blessed 
be  God,  who  withheld  me  from  such  sins  as  would  have  brought  me 
to  open  justice,  and  exposed  myself  and  family  to  shame  and  dis- 
grace. 

In  process  of  time,  I  was  married  to  Mr.  Samuel  Wheaton,  being 
in  my  eighteenth  year,  October  21,  1731,  and  went  with  my  husband 
the  next  winter  to  see  his  friends  in  the  country  ;  where  I  stayed  al- 
most five  months ;  and  was  almost  all  the  time  under  strong  convic- 
tions. Oh,  how  I  did  sweat  and  tremble  for  fear  my  convictions 
should  wear  off  again,  and  plead  with  God  to  set  home  strong  convic- 
tions, and  never,  never  suffer  them  to  cease,  till  they  ended  in  a 
sound  and  saving  conversion ;  till  I  knew  and  was  sure  that  I  had  a 
saving  interest  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  was  freely  forgiven  for  his  sake  ' 

43 


338  MEMOIRS    OF 

and  this  was  the  substance  of  my  frequent  prayers  ever  after,  when 
I  could  pray  at  all  with  earnestness ;  that  1  might  never  rest  more, 
till  I  was  sure  iny  peace  was  made  with  God. 

From  this  time  I  had  a  hope  again,  at  times,  that  Christ  was  mine. 
But  it  was  some  years  after  before  it  pleased  God  to  answer  it  fully, 
by  giving  me  an  assurance  of  it.  But  then  I  longed  again  for  the 
ordinance  of  the  Lord's  supper,  though  sometimes  shocked  by  that 
awful  text,  "  He  who  eateth  and  drinketh  unworthily,  eateth  and 
drinketh  damnation  to  himself."  But  resolved  at  last,  if  I  lived  to 
get  home,  I  would  venture,  in  obedience  to  the  commandment  of 
Christ ;  and  throw  myself  into  the  arms  of  mercy.  I  longed  to 
commemorate  the  death  and  sufferings  of  a  crucified  Jesus.  1  thought 
nothing  should  tempt  me  to  delay  any  longer.  But,  oh  my  sinful 
soul,  must  I  yet  add  to  the  number  of  thy  backslidings  1  Could  not 
the  time  past  suffice,  that  thou  hadst  provoked  a  compassionate  God  I 
Was  it  not  enough,  and  more  than  enough,  that  thou  hadst  rebelled 
so  long  against  a  glorious  Christ,  and  grieved  his  blessed  Spirit !  But 
must  I  go  on  again,  after  such  awakenings  as  these,  which  one  would 
have  thought  impossible  !  But,  oh  deceitful  heart,  thou  didst,  thou 
didst!  Lord,  I  blush  and  am  ashamed,  when  I  remember  my  noto- 
rious ingratitude.  O  break  this  heart  of  flint,  dearest  Lord,  that  it 
may  melt  into  tears  of  contrition  :  And  never  suffer  me  to  forgive 
myself,  because  thou  hast  forgiven  me. 

After  I  came  home,  I  met  with  much  affliction  in  many  respects. 
It  seemed  to  me  that  the  whole  world  were  in  arms  against  me.  I 
thought  I  was  the  most  despised  creature  living  upon  earth.  I  used 
to  pray  to  God  in  secret  to  relieve  me ;  but  did  not,  as  I  ought,  see 
his  hand  in  permitting  it  so  to  be,  as  a  just  punishment  for  my  vile 
sins :  and  therefore  was  not  humbled  under  it  as  I  ought ;  but  let 
nature  rise,  and  acted  very  imprudently,  in  many  respects.  I  was 
then  with  child,  and  often  lamented  that  I  was  like  to  bring  a  child 
into  such  a  world  of  sorrow :  but  sometimes  found  a  disposition  to 
dedicate  my  babe  to  God,  while  in  the  womb ;  and  did  so  at  all  sea- 
sons of  secret  prayer.  And,  after  it  was  born,  my  husband  being  at 
sea,  I  could  not  rest  till  I  had  solemnly  given  it  up  to  God  in  baptism. 
And  I  thought  that  I  did  indeed  give  up  both  myself  and  it  to  God. 

I  met  with  many  trials  in  my  lying  in,  it  being  an  extreme  cold 
season.  My  child  was  born  on  Oct.  27,  1732.  The  next  spring, 
my  husband  returned  home ;  but  went  to  sea  again,  and  died  abroad 
in  November,  1733.  I  was  then  in  my  twentieth  year.  The  news 
of  my  husband's  death  came  to  me  on  the  first  of  the  next  April. 
And  I  was  prepared  the  evening  before  to  receive  it,  by  being  un- 
commonly exercised  in  my  mind  about  spiritual  things:  and  that  text 
in  Hebrews  was  continually  in  my  thoughts,  "  How  shall  we  escape, 
if  we  neglect  so  great  salvation  ?"  This  put  me  upon  pleading  with 
God,  that  I  might  not  be  found  among  the  neglecters  of  it.  I  went 
to  bed  in  a  house  all  alone,  my  ehild  being  at  my  father's.     And 


MRS.   SARAH  OSBORN.  339 

about  eleven  or  twelve  o'clock  at  night  was  awaked  to  hear  the 
heaw  tidings.  But  God  appeared  wonderfully  for  my  support.  I 
saw  his  hand,  and  was  enabled  to  submit  with  patience  to  his  will. 
I  daily  looked  rouud  me,  to  see  how  much  heavier  the  hand  of  God 
was  laid  on  some  others,  than  it  was  on  me,  where  they  were  left 
with  a  large  number  of  children,  and  much  involved  in  debt.  And 
I  had  but  one  to  maintain ;  and,  though  poor,  yet  not  involved.  Oth- 
ers, I  saw,  as  well  as  myself,  had  their  friends  snatched  from  them 
by  sudden  accidents.  The  consideration  of  these  things,  together 
with  the  thoughts  of  what  I  deserved,  stilled  me  so,  that  though  the 
loss  of  my  companion,  whom  I  dearly  loved,  was  great;  yet  the  veins 
of  mercv,  which  I  saw  running  through  all  my  afflictions,  were  so 
great  likewise,  that,  with  Job,  I  could  say,  "The  Lord  gave,  and  the 
Lord  hath  taken  away,  and  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord."  I 
had  then  the  promises  of  the  widow's  God  to  plead,  and  seemed  to 
cast  myself  more  immediately  upon  his  care,  verily  believing,  as  I 
thought,  he  would  provide  for  me,  with  my  fatherless  babe ;  for  whom 
I  often  pleaded  for  covenant  blessings,  since  he  had  been  cast  upon 
God  from  the  womb. 

O,  how  much  comfort  do  those  parents  lose,  who  never  gave  their 
children  up  to  God  in  baptism  in  their  infancy  !  And  how  sad  for 
children  themselves  to  be  deprived  of  the  privilege  of  pleading  with 
God  for  covenant  blessings  !  My  being  dedicated  to  God  in  my  in- 
fancy always  put  an  argument  into  my  mouth,  to  beg  of  God  that  I 
might  not  cut  myself  off,  since  I  was  a  child  of  the  covenant,  and 
from  a  child  given  to  him  in  baptism.     But,  to  return  : 

As  before  this  affliction  every  one  seemed  to  be  enemies  to  me, 
so  from  that  time,  all  became  friends.  My  parents  treated  me  very 
tenderly ;  and  God  inclined  every  one  who  saw  me  to  be  kind  to 
me.  My  brother  was  come  into  New  England  :  and  being  a  single 
man,  we  went  to  housekeeping  together.  But  in  three  months  after 
he  married,  and  I  soon  found  it  would  not  do  to  live  as  before ;  and 
began  to  be  thoughtful  how  I  should  do.  I  could  see  no  way  in 
which  I  could  get  a  living.  All  doors  seemed  to  be  shut.  But  I 
verily  believed  that  God  would  point  out  a  way  for  me.  And  accord- 
ingly, the  very  day  I  came  to  a  resolution  to  move  as  soon  as  I  could, 
a  stranger  to  my  case,  who  kept  a  school  a  little  way  off,  came  to  me, 
and  told  me  that  she  only  waited  for  a  fair  wind  to  go  to  Carolina ; 
and,  if  it  would  suit  me,  I  should  have  her  chamber  and  scholars ; 
which  I  joyfully  accepted.  Thus  the  widow's  God  remarkably  pro- 
vided for  me.  This  was  on  Nov.  19,  1734.  I  was  then  placed  in 
a  family,  who  discovered  a  great  deal  of  affection  for  me ;  and  in  all 
respects  used  me  as  tenderly  as  if  I  had  been  a  near  relation. 

It  pleased  God  the  next  May  to  lay  his  afflicting  hand  on  me,  by  a 
sharp  humor,  which  broke  out  in  my  hands,  so  that,  for  three  months, 
every  finger  I  had  was  wrapped  in  plasters ;  and  I  could  help  myself 
but  very  little,  and  was  under  the  doctor's  hands.     In  the  fall  I  was 


340  MEMOIRS    OF 

taken  with  violent  fits,  and  was  quite  deprived  of  sense  by  them  five 
days.  I  was  blistered  almost  all  over  by  the  doctor ;  and  my  hands 
and  arms  were  all  raw,  from  my  fingers'  ends,  up  above  my  elbows, 
attended  with  a  high  fever.  But  all  my  friends  were  exceedingly 
kind  to  me,  and  those  in  the  house  took  care  of  me,  and  of  my  chil- 
dren too ;  so  that  my  school  was  not  broken  up,  till  I  was  able  to 
take  care  of  it  myself  again.  But  the  sharp  humor  continued  very 
violent,  at  times,  for  some  years:  and  still  continues  at  some  seasons. 
But,  in  all  this  time  of  illness,  God  wonderfully  provided  for  me.  I 
wanted  for  none  of  the  comforts  of  life  :  neither  was  I  cast  down  ; 
for  his  mercy  held  me  up. 

The  instances  of  the  remarkable  hand  of  God  in  his  providence, 
in  ordering  my  temporal  affairs,  are  innumerable.  But,  oh  vile 
wretch  !  after  all  this  I  grew  slack  again,  and  got  into  a  cold,  lifeless 
frame.  As  I  grew  better  in  bodily  health,  my  soul  grew  sick.  I 
daily  laid  up  a  stock  for  repentance.  But,  through  rich  grace,  I  was 
again  convinced  of  my  stupidity,  and  began  to  be  more  diligent  in 
attending  on  the  means  of  grace.  But  I  found  I  could  not  profit  by 
the  wTord  preached  :  nothing  reached  my  heart;  all  seemed  but  skin 
deep :  and  the  more  I  went  to  meeting  the  more  I  found  it  so.  Then 
I  began  to  think  I  must  take  some  other  course. 

Not  long  after  I  went  to  hear  Mr.  Clap ;  who  told  me  the  very 
secrets  of  my  heart  in  his  sermon,  as  plain  as  I  could  have  told  them 
to  him,  and  indeed  more  so.  His  sermon  was  very  terrible  to  me. 
My  sins,  from  my  cradle,  were  ranked  in  order  before  my  eyes,  and 
they  appeared  dreadful.  I  saw  the  depravity  of  my  nature ;  and  how 
I  had  stifled  the  motions  of  the  blessed  Spirit  of  God,  and  resisted 
all  the  kind  invitations  of  a  compassionate  Savior.  I  was  heart-sick 
of  all  my  works.  And  as  it  had  been  often  suggested  to  me,  I  be- 
lieve from  Satan,  that  it  was  time  enough  for  me  to  repent  hereafter, 
it  was  now  strongly  impressed  on  my  mind,  that  it  was  now  too  late 
for  me  to  find  mercy.  Once  I  might  have  had  Christ ;  but  now  my 
day  was  past.  And  it  was  suggested  that  I  had  committed  the  unpar- 
donable sin ;  because  I  had  sinned  against  light  and  knowledge,  even 
against  the  convictions  of  my  own  conscience.  This  I  knew  I  had 
done ;  and  therefore  believed  I  had  committed  that  sin  which  could 
never  be  forgiven. 

But,  O !  what  shall  I  say,  or  how,  with  gratitude  enough,  express 
the  wonderful  goodness  of  that  God,  who  preserved  me,  even  when 
I  was,  in  my  own  apprehension,  upon  the  very  brink  of  hell,  welter- 
ing in  my  blood  ;  when  no  eye  pitied  me,  and  no  created  arm  could 
save  me :  Even  then  did  he  spread  his  skirt  over  me,  and  said  to  me, 
Live.  After  I  had  been  near  a  week  in  this  distress,  my  very  soul 
racked  with  fear  of  what  I  must  undergo  to  all  eternity,  those  words, 
"  Depart  from  me"  sounding  in  my  ears,  and  I  uttering  the  language 
of  hell,  "  There  is  no  hope !  There  is  no  help !  The  door  of  mercy 
is  shut  against  me  forever !"  all  at  once,  I  was  alarmed   with  these 


MRS.  SARAH  OSBORN.  341 

thoughts,  which  seemed  to  be  conveyed  to  my  mind  in  the  following 
words.  .  "  Who  has  told  you,  that  your  day  of  grace  is  over  ?  Are 
not  the  doors  of  the  meeting  house  open  ?  Cannot  you  hear  the 
offers  of  salvation  ?  Have  you  not  your  Bible  to  read  ?  And  you 
may  pray :  therefore,  you  see  your  external  day  of  grace  is  not  over. 
And  how  do  you  know  but  you  may  yet  obtain  mercy  !  It  is  the 
devil  who  has  suggested  all  this  to  you ;  and  he  is  a  liar  from  the 
beginning."  I  was  then  convinced,  that  it  was  the  devil  who  had 
been  tempting  me  to  despair  of  the  mercy  of  God,  which  I  did  not 
perceive  before,  but  verily  thought  what  he  suggested  to  me  was 
true,  viz.  That  there  was  no  hope  for  me. 

After  I  saw  that  I  was  tempted  by  Satan  to  despair,  and  knowing 
that  he  was  a  liar,  I  began,  for  a  few  minutes,  to  have  some  glim- 
mering of  hope  that  it  might  possibly  be,  that  Christ  would  receive 
me,  because  he  had  spared  me  hitherto,  on  this  side  the  grave,  and 
out  of  hell.  Who  knows,  thought  I,  but  I  may  yet  be  a  child  of 
God.  Immediately  upon  these  thoughts,  I  was  furiously  assaulted 
with  new  temptations  by  Satan,  I  believe,  not  to  flatter  myself  with 
the  thought  that  I  should  be  a  child  of  God  ;  for  I  was  not  elected, 
and  therefore  could  not  be  saved.  Besides,  God  did  not  leave  his 
children  to  be  tempted  by  him,  as  I  had  been.  I  might  be  sure,  if 
I  was  one  of  God's  chosen,  he  would  not  have  suffered  me  to  be 
tempted  so;  but  I  belonged  to  Satan,  and  he  was  sure  of- me.  And 
I,  like  a  fool,  yielded  to  these  suggestions,  and  at  once  cast  off  my 
hope  again,  verily  believing  it  was  impossible  that  I  could  ever  be  a 
child  of  God.  Now  I  was  brought  to  the  greatest  extremity,  and 
plunged  into  as  deep  an  agony  as  ever.  1  saw  myself  utterly  lost 
without  a  Christ.  I  thought  I  could  have  suffered  all  the  torments 
in  the  world  for  an  interest  in  Christ.  If  1  could  have  purchased 
him  by  doing  any  thing,  though  ever  so  hard,  I  should  then  have 
thought  it  nothing.  But  oh,  base,  proud,  unbelieving  heart!  I  could 
not  take  him  freely,  upon  his  own  terms;  because,  though  I  had  no 
doubt  that  he  was  able  to  save  me ;  yet  I  could  not  see  him  willing 
to  receive  so  vile  a  wretch.  In  this  dreadful  agony,  I  opened  my 
Bible,  and  the  first  words  I  cast  my  eye  upon  were  these  :  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  you  are  able ;  but  will,  with  the  temptation,  also 
make  a  way  for  your  escape,  that  ye  may  be  able  to  bear  it."  These 
words  were  accompanied  with  those  powerful  influences  of  the  spirit 
of  God,  which  excited  in  me  a  sense  of  the  excellence,  glory  and 
truth  of  God,  and  I  had  a  pleasing  confidence  and  rest  in  the  divine 
faithfulness,  and  embraced  the  promises  in  these  words.  As  it  is 
not  possible  for  me  to  express  the  greatness  of  the  distress,  in  which 
I  was  before ;  so  it  is  as  much  impossible  for  me  to  make  any  one 
sensible  of  the  joy,  with  which  I  was  instantly  filled  by  this  gracious 
promise;  except  those  who  experimentally  know  what  it  is;  for  God 


342  MEMOIRS  OF 

was  pleased,  at  that  moment,  to  give  me  faith  to  lay  hold  on  it.  O, 
how  did  it  fill  my  heart  and  mouth  with  praises,  and  my  eyes  with 
floods  of  tears  !  I  was  humbled  to  the  dust,  and  amazed,  as  I  para- 
phrased upon  every  branch  of  the  text.  It  surprised,  and  comforted 
me  too,  to  find  that  there  had  no  temptation  taken  me,  but  such  as 
is  common  to  man,  when  but  a  few  minutes  before  I  had  been  think- 
ing that  none  had  ever  been  tempted  as  I  was.  But  as  I  perused 
the  other  part,  viz.  That  God  was  faithful,  and  would  not  suffer  me 
to  be  tempted  above  that  I  was  able ;  but  would,  with  the  tempta- 
tion, make  a  way  for  me  to  escape,  that  I  might  be  able  to  bear  it; 
my  transport  of  joy  was  so  great,  that  it  was  more  than  my  poor 
feeble  frame  was  able  to  sustain  ;  for  my  nature  even  fainted  with 
excessive  joy.  Then  I  saw  Christ  not  only  able,  but  willing  to  re- 
ceive me ;  and  could  freely  trust  my  soul  in  his  hands. 

Thus  I  continued  for  some  time,  rejoicing  and  resolving,  by  assist- 
ing grace,  to  press  forward,  and  by  all  means  to  make  my  calling  and 
election  sure.  Then  I  wrote  my  experience  to  be  communicated  to 
the  church ;  and  I  was  admitted,  February  6,  1737,  to  partake  of 
that  holy  ordinance  of  the  Lord's  Supper.  But  it  is  impossible  for 
me  to  express  the  ecstacy  of  joy  I  was  in,  when  I  saw  myself  there, 
who  was  by  nature  a  child  of  wrath,  an  heir  of  hell,  and  by  practice 
a  rebel  against  God,  a  resister  of  his  grace,  a  piercer  of  the  lovely 
Jesus,  unworthy  of  the  crumbs  that  fall ;  yet,  through  free  grace, 
compelled  to  come  in,  and  partake  of  children's  bread.  It  was  in- 
deed sweet  to  me  to  feed  by  faith  on  the  broken  body  of  my  dear- 
est Lord.  Surely  it  did  humble  me  to  the  dust  and  filled  me  with 
self  abhorrence,  as  I  meditated  on  his  sufferings  and  death,  and  knew 
my  sins  to  be  the  procuring  cause.  But  when  I  came  to  take  the 
cup,  and  by  faith  to  apply  the  precious  properties  of  the  blood  of 
Christ  to  my  soul,  the  veil  of  unbelief  seemed  to  drop  off,  and  I  was 
forced  to  cry  out,  "My  Lord,  and  my  God,"  when  I  beheld  the  hole 
in  his  side,  and  the  prints  of  the  nails.  And  I  could  not  but,  in  the 
words  of  Peter,  appeal  to  him,  "  Lord,  thou  knowest  all  things,  thou 
knowest  that  I  love  thee."  O  then  I  was  admitted,  with  the  beloved 
disciple,  to  lean  on  his  breast !  O,  what  a  feast  is  this,  when  inti- 
mate communion  with  the  glorious  God  is  thus  obtained  !  When 
strong  covenant  engagements  with  him  are  renewed ;  I  being  assured 
that  he  was  my  God,  and  giving  myself,  body  and  soul,  to  him  for- 
ever, and  rejoicing  in  him  as  my  only  portion  forevermore.  Surely, 
I  thought,  I  could  never  enough  adore  the  lovely  Jesus  for  appoint- 
ing such  an  ordinance  as  this. 

But  I  cease  to  say  any  more  of  this ;  for  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  describe  the  thousandth  part  of  what  I  then  felt.  O,  that  I  could 
always  live  as  one  who  had  thus  been  on  the  mount  with  God  !  The 
next  morning  I  was  as  much  refreshed  by  meditating  on  the  32d 
psalm,  from  the  first  verse  to  the  end  of  the  fifth.  This  caused  me 
yet  more  to  adore  distinguishing  grace,  and  even  to  be  swallowed  up 


MRS.    SARAH    OSBORN.  343 

with  love  to  the  immaculate  Lamb ;  and  resolve  more  and  more, 
with  full  purpose  of  heart,  to  cleave  to  the  Lord.  The  frequent 
language  of  my  soul  was  this,  "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ? 
And  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  besides  thee." 

I  could  not  avoid,  when  there  was  opportunity  for  it,  expressing 
my  love  and  thankfulness  to  God,  for  snatching  me  as  a  brand  out 
of  the  burning  :  and  when  I  did  this  once  to  my  mother,  with  tears 
of  joy  running  down  my  cheeks,  she  said  to  me,  "  Ah,  child,  you 
will  not  always  find  your  love  thus  flaming  to  the  blessed  Jesus. 
After  a  while  you  will  be  more  cool  again.*'  But  I  hastily  answered, 
too  much  like  Peter,  It  was  impossible  I  could  be  such  a  monster  for 
ingratitude.  But  she  told  me,  she  did  not  mean  that  I  should  in 
reality  love  him  less,  but  compared  the  first  espousals  of  a  soul  to 
Christ,  with  that  of  a  husband  and  wife,  which  was  generally  attend- 
ed with  more  fondness  and  joy,  than  afterwards,  though  the  love 
might  be  the  same,  or  stronger. 

I  continued  to  go  on  my  way  rejoicing  for  some  time,  without 
knowing  what  it  was  to  be  deserted  one  hour  together,  or  entirely  to 
lose  sensible  communion  with  God  in  any  duty  or  special  ordinance, 
or  ever  to  lie  down  without  God  ;  or  to  awake  without  some  sweet 
and  refreshing  portion  of  the  word  of  God  in  my  thoughts.  My  very 
sleep  was  filled  with  pleasant  thoughts  of  divine  things.  Surely  I 
enjoyed  some  foretaste  of  heaven  at  this  season. 

These  were  happy  days.  But  now  how  shall  I  speak  !  Oh  that 
I  may  do  it  with  a  heart  truly  broken  for  my  sins  !  After  all  this,  I 
began  to  grow  more  conformed  to  the  world.  Things  which,  when 
I  was  thus  lively,  appeared  insipid,  and  indeed  odious  to  me,  began 
to  grow  more  tolerable,  and  by  degrees  in  a  measure  pleasant.  And 
depraved  nature  and  Satan  together  pleaded  for  them  thus,  "  That 
there  was  a  time  for  all  things;  and  singing  and  dancing  now  and  then, 
with  .a  particular  friend,  was  an  innocent  diversion.  Who  did  I  see, 
besides  myself,  so  precise  and  strict  ?  Other  christians  allowed  them- 
selves in  such  things,  who,  I  had  reason  to  think,  were  far  superior 
to  me  in  grace ;  especially  one  with  whom  I  was  very  intimate.  Sure, 
if  it  was  sin,  she  would  not  allow  herself  in  it.  It  was  for  extraordi- 
nary christians,  such  as  ministers,  and  others  who  were  eminent  for 
piety,  to  avoid  the  practice  of  such  things,  and  not  for  me.  Who  did 
I  think  I  was,  that  I  should  pretend  to  outdo  other  christians?  They 
could  talk  of  worldly  things.  What  ailed  me  ?"  Thus  the  devil  and 
carnal  reasoning  argued  me  out  of  a  great  part  of  my  resolutions  for 
strict  godliness  ;  and,  in  short,  made  me,  in  a  sort,  believe  that  it  was 
only  pride  and  hypocrisy,  and  to  be  seen  of  men,  that  had  ever  made 
me  pretend  to  it. 

Thus  I  sunk  by  degrees  lower  and  lower,  till  I  had  at  last  almost 
lost  all  sense  of  my  former  experiences.  I  had  only  the  bare  re- 
membrance of  them,  and  they  seemed  like  dreams  or  delusion,  at 
some  times.     At  others  again,  I  had  some  revivals.     I  still  constantly 


344 


MEMOIRS  OF 


attended  the  means  of  grace,  and  Sabbaths  were  sometimes  very 
sweet  to  me.  At  times  I  had  access  to  the  throne  of  grace,  and 
obtained  some  communion  with  God,  and  resolved  to  be  more  cir- 
cumspect, and  renewed  my  covenant  engagements  with  God.  But  I 
knew  I  was  a  dreadful  backslider,  and  had  dealt  treacherously  with 
God,  and  sometimes  dare  not  with  any  boldness,  look  up  to  him  j 
guilt  would  stop  my  mouth.  At  other  times  gracious  invitations  to 
backsliders  to  return,  would  revive  me.  Thus  I  continued,  for  a 
great  while,  sometimes  revived,  and  sometimes  sunk,  and  dejected. 
In  September,  1740,  God  in  mercy  sent  his  dear  servant  White- 
field  here,  which  in  some  measure  stirred  me  up.  But  when  Mr. 
Tennent  came  soon  after,  it  pleased  God  to  bless  his  preaching  so  to 
me,  that  it  roused  me.  But  I  was  all  the  winter  after  exercised  with 
dreadful  doubts  and  fears  about  my  state.  I  questioned  the  truth  of 
all  I  had  experienced,  and  feared  I  had  never  yet  passed  through  the 
pangs  of  the  new  birth,  or  ever  had  one  spark  of  grace.  And  what 
confirmed  this  to  me,  my  dear  aged  pastor,  Mr.  Clap,  frequently 
preached,  that  they  who  had  real  grace  had  growing  grace.  This 
used  to  make  me  tremble,  because  I  could  not  perceive  my  growth; 
but  thought  I  rather  went  back,  and  grew  worse.  Thus  I  was  cover- 
ed over  with  thick  clouds  for  months  together.  Oh,  the  dreadful 
fruits  of  backsliding  !  At  last,  I  applied  to  Mr.  Clap,  and  begged 
of  him,  that  if  he  knew  of  any  thing  which  I  had  left  undone,  by 
what  I  had  told  him,  or  wrote  for  my  admission  into  the  church,  he 
would  let  me  know  it,  that  the  mistake  might  be  rectified  before  it  is 
too  late.  I  was  indeed  possessed  with  the  thought,  that  he  saw  so 
clearly  into  my  state,  that  he  knew  I  was  a  hypocrite,  though  I  did 
not  till  then.  I  told  him  of  this.  But  he  said,  he  never  thought  so ; 
and  put  me  upon  renewing  covenant  engagements  with  God,  and 
giving  myself  up  to  him  then;  and  perhaps  I  should  find  I  had  done 
so  before.  This  I  endeavored  to  do,  and  did  get  some  relief;  but 
was  not  yet  satisfied.  The  tokens  of  a  woful  backslider  were  upon 
me.  I  had  forsaken  my  first  love,  and  God  justly  deserted  me. 
Sometimes  that  text  would  refresh  me,  "  Return,  ye  backsliding 
children,  and  I  will  heal  your  backslidings."  My  heart  would  an- 
swer, "  Behold  I  come  unto  thee ;  for  thou  art  the  Lord  my  God." 
And  sometimes  that  passage,  "I,  even  I  am  he,  that  blotteth  out  thy 
transgressions,  and  as  a  cloud  thy  sins  :  Return  unto  me  ;  for  I  have 
redeemed  thee."  But  yet  all  this  time  I  could  not  get  clear  of 
doubts ;  but  thought  such  dreadful  formality  and  hypocrisy,  as  I  per- 
ceived to  be  in  my  heart,  could  not  consist  with  grace.  I  labored 
along  thus  all  the  winter,  unresolved  how  the  case  stood  between  God 
and  my  soul :  and  an  uncomfortable  dreadful  life  it  was.  At  some 
times  I  was  so  covered  with  darkness,  that  I  seemed  to  be  sure  I  had 
not  one  spark  of  grace  :  at  other  times  afraid  of  ingratitude,  afraid 
to  deny  what  God  had  done  for  my  soul.  Oh,  these  were  the  dread- 
ful fruits  of  backsliding,  and  losing  my  first  love !  The  Lord  in 
mercy  preserve  me,  that  I  may  never  do  so  any  more ! 


MRS.   SARAH   0SB0RN.  345 

I  continued  thus  till  March,  1741.  And  then  it  pleased  God  to 
return  Mr.  Tennent  to  us  again,  and  he  preached  twenty  one  sermons 
here.  But  while  he  was  here,  I  was  more  than  ever  distressed.  I 
had  lost  the  sensible  manifestations  of  Christ's  love.  I  had  no  more 
but  a  bare  remembrance  of  some  things,  which  I  had  experienced  ; 
and  yet  I  was  afraid  to  draw  up  a  conclusion,  one  way  or  the  other. 
I  applied  to  Mr.  Tennent,  and  he  discoursed  very  suitably  with  me. 
But  still  I  was  not  quiet,  but  exceedingly  distressed. 

I  had  some  light  and  refreshment  under  his  preaching  the  next 
day;  but  my  darkness  returned  again,  and  1  sunk  very  low.  I  was 
so  afraid  of  presumption,  that  I  dare  not  conclude  my  state  was  good. 
And  he  struck  directly  at  those  things,  for  which  I  had  so  foolishly 
and  wickedly  pleaded  christian  example,  such  as  singing  songs,  dan- 
cing, and  foolish  jesting,  which  is  not  convenient.  He  said,  he  would 
not  say  there  was  no  such  thing  as  a  dancing  christian,  but  he  had  a 
very  mean  opinion  of  such  as  could  bear  to  spend  their  time  so,  when 
it  is  so  short,  and  the  work  for  eternity  so  great.  Then,  and  not  till 
then,  was  I  fully  convinced  what  prodigal  wasters  of  precious  time 
such  things  were.  And,  through  grace,  I  have  abhorred  them  all 
ever  since.  And  to  the  glory  of  God  be  it  spoken  ;  for  it  is  only 
from  his  sovereign  wonderful  goodness  to  me. 

I  still  continued  in  very  dark  and  melancholy  circumstances,  be- 
tween hope  and  fear,  afraid  to  conclude  one  way  or  the  other.  And 
having  no  opportunity  to  speak  with  Mr.  Tennent  again,  I  wrote  to 
him  as  well  as  I  could,  briefly  relating  what  I  had  experienced,  and 
begged  of  him  to  try  it  by  scripture  rules,  and  judge  of  it  according- 
ly, and  give  me  his  opinion;  that  I  might  not  sin  by  denying  the  grace 
of  God,  if  I  had  it,  nor  speak  peace  to  my  soul,  if  God  did  not.  To 
which  he  returned  the  following  answer. 

"My  dear  friend, — I  like  your  experiences  well.  They  seem  to 
me  to  be  scriptural  and  encouraging ;  and  I  think  you  may  humbly 
take  comfort  from  them,  and  give  God  the  glory  of  his  pure  grace. 
They  who  have  been  so  humbled  and  distressed  for  sin,  as  to  be 
divorced  from  the  governing  love  and  practice  of  it ;  and  have  been 
by  the  Spirit  of  God  made  willing  to  embrace  the  Redeemer  delib- 
erately, unreservedly,  and  resolutely,  upon  his  own  terms,  have  a 
sure  interest  in  the  great  salvation.  John  i.  12.  To  as  manv  as  re- 
ceived him,  to  them  gave  he  power  to  become  the  sons  of  God,  even 
to  them  that  believe  on  his  name.  And  whatever  involuntary  defects 
they  are  guilty  of,  they  shall  not  break  the  everlasting  covenant  be- 
tween God  and  their  souls.  Though  they  have  played  the  harlot  with 
many  lovers ;  yet  they  may  return  to  their  first  husband.  Though 
God  may  hide  his  face  for  a  moment,  yet  with  everlasting  loving 
kindness  will  he  return.  Though  they  be  sometimes  easily  beset 
with  sin  ;  yet  he,  who  was  the  author,  will  be  the  finisher  of  their 
faith.     I  add  no  more  but  love,  and  remain,  your  real  friend, 

March  22,  1741.  G.  T." 

44 


346  MEMOIRS   OF 

I  have  transcribed  this  letter,  that,  if  Providence  should  ever  cast 
these  lines  into  the  hands  of  any  in  like  circumstances,  it  may,  if  the 
Lord  will,  have  the  same  happy  effect  on  them,  as,  by  the  blessing 
of  God,  it  had  on  me;  which  was  this — The  letter  itself  was  exceed- 
ing sweet  and  refreshing ;  but  the  precious  texts  of  scripture,  which 
wTere  quoted,  were  so  powerfully  set  home  on  my  mind,  that  they 
scattered  all  my  clouds  immediately,  and  I  was  as  one  restored  from 
the  grave.  Then  with  life  and  courage  I  again  renewed  my  written 
covenant  engagements  with  God,  and  became  more  lively  and  zeal- 
ous for  God  than  ever.  O  the  amazing  goodness  of  God  to  me  !  I 
have  heard  of  some  christians  who  never  recover  such  backslidings 
all  their  days.  But  I  have  not  since  lost  my  evidences  of  grace. 
Though  I  have  been  sometimes  under  desertion,  yet  I  could  frequent- 
ly say,  "  Why  art  thou  cast  down,  O  my  soul,  and  why  art  thou  dis- 
quieted within  me  ?  Hope  in  God,  for  I  shall  yet  praise  him,  who  is 
the  light  of  my  countenance,  and  my  God." 

After  I  was  thus  revived,  my  longings  to  be  made  useful  in  the 
world  returned,  and  I  earnestly  pleaded  with  God  that  he  would  not 
suffer  me  to  live  any  longer  an  unprofitable  servant ;  but  would  point 
out  some  way,  in  which  I  might  be  useful :  And  that  I  might  now 
be  as  exemplary  for  piety,  as  I  had  been  for  folly.  And  it  pleased 
God  so  to  order  it,  that  I  had  room  to  hope  my  petitions  were  both 
heard,  and  in  a  measure  answered.  For  soon  after  this  a  number 
of  young  women,  who  were  awakened  to  a  concern  for  their  souls, 
came  to  me,  and  desired  my  advice  and  assistance,  and  proposed  to 
join  in  a  society,  provided  I  would  take  the  care  of  them.  To  which, 
I  trust  with  a  sense  of  my  own  unworthiness,  I  joyfully  consented. 
And  much  sweetness  we  enjoyed  in  these  meetings.  (And  blessed 
be  God,  they  are  yet  kept  up.) 

About  this  time  it  pleased  God  to  lay  his  afflicting  hand  upon  me 
by  the  removal  of  my  only  brother  by  death.  As  to  the  loss  of  his 
person,  I  found  I  could  quietly  submit,  and  say,  "  The  Lord  gave, 
and  he  has  taken  away,  and  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord."  But 
I  had  a  sinful  curiosity  to  know  how  it  was  with  his  precious  soul  : 
And  being  filled  with  fear  about  it,  I  was  very  much  dejected.  But 
I  knew  my  curiosity  was  sinful.  And  I  pleaded  earnestly  with  God, 
that  he  would  not  suffer  me  to  pry  into  the  secrets  of  his  will ;  but 
give  me  a  quiet  submission.  I  continued  wrestling  with  God  for  re- 
signation to  his  will,  till  about  two  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  then 
I  went  to  bed,  still  begging  that  I  might  never  spend  another  day  un- 
resigned.  And  just  about  break  of  day  I  awaked  with  the  following 
words  strongly  impressed  on  my  mind,  "  Secret  things  belong  unto 
God,  but  those  which  are  revealed  belong  unto  us.  The  will  of 
God  is  done,  the  will  of  God  is  done."  These  words  quieted  me, 
so  that  I  arose  as  cheerful,  composed  and  thankful,  as  if  I  had  met 
with  no  affliction  at  all,  and  I  think  more  so  ;  and  never  did  from 
that  hour,  nor  could  mourn  as  I  had  done.  This  I  considered  as  a 
remarkable  answer  to  prayer. 


MRS.    SARAH    OSBORN.  347 

After  this  my  business  failed,  and  1  found  I  could  not  keep  my 
room  where  I  lived  ;  and  which  way  to  turn  I  knew  not.  But  was 
persuaded  God  would  point  out  some  way  for  me.  I  had  several  of- 
fers to  go  into  the  country  to  keep  school  in  creditable  families,  where 
I  had  a  prospect  of  wanting  for  nothing  of  the  necessaries  of  this 
life.  But  I  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  going  from  the  means  of 
grace,  and  other  precious  privileges,  which  1  then  enjoyed.  And 
the  society  of  young  women  often  entreated  me  not  to  leave  them. 
I  had  double  ties  every  way,  and  knew  not  what  to  do.  But  I  wras 
not  distressed,  believing  God  would  provide  for  me.  Accordingly  he 
did  so;  though  by  an  afflictive  dispensation.  It  pleased  him  to  re- 
move a  dear  friend  by  death,  with  whom  I  was  very  intimate.  Her 
husband  was  a  very  sober  good  sort  of  a  man,  and  wanted  me  to 
keep  his  shop  for  my  board,  and  wash  for  myself.  This  offer  suited 
me  very  well ;  for  hereby  I  was  not  likely  to  be  deprived  of  any  of 
my  religious  privileges.  So  on  the  first  day  of  July,  I  went  there  to 
live,,  and  indeed  had  much  comfort.  Dear  Mr.  Clap  met  with  the 
society  at  his  house  twice  every  week,  which  I  constantly  attended  ; 
and  religion  seemed  to  be  the  chief  business  of  my  life.  Had  much 
comfort  in  all  the  duties  of  religion,  public,  private,  and  secret:  And 
had  as  much  time  to  spend  in  them  as  I  could  desire. 

About  this  time  I  had  the  offer  of  a  second  marriage,  with  one 
who  appeared  to  be  a  real  christian  (and  1  could  not  think  of  being 
unequally  yoked  with  one  who  was  not  such.)  I  took  the  matter 
into  serious  consideration.  I  foresaw  there  were  difficulties  which  I 
must  unavoidably  encounter  ;  and  many  duties  would  be  incumbent 
on  me,  to  which  1  had  been  a  stranger :  particularly,  in  my  being  a 
mother  in-law  to  three  sons,  which  my  proposed  husband  had  by  a 
first  wife.  But  after  weighing  all  circumstances,  as  well  as  I  could, 
in  my  mind,  and  earnest  prayer  which  God  enabled  me  to  continue 
in  for  some  time,  I  concluded  it  was  the  will  of  God,  that  I  should 
accept  of  the  offer,  and  was  accordingly  married  to  Mr.  Henry  Os- 
born,  on  the  5th  day  of  May,    1742. 

The  next  July  after  I  was  married,  I  went  with  an  intimate  friend, 
to  Little  Compton,  on  purpose  to  join  in  a  fast  which  was  appointed 
there  to  implore  the  outpouring  of  the  Spirit  of  God  on  that  place ; 
which  was  attended  with  much  solemnity.  The  next  day  which  was 
the  twenty  ninth  day  of  the  month,  my  friend  and  I  were  riding  to  a 
private  religious  meeting,  and  my  horse  stumbled  and  threw  me  over 
his  head.  My  stomach  came  first  to  the  ground  ;  and  yet  was  com- 
paratively but  little  hurt ;  and  close  by  the  spot  where  my  .head 
came  was  a  large  rock,  which  must  in  all  probability,  have  ended 
my  days,  if  I  had  fallen  upon  it.  This  gave  me  a  sense  of  the 
goodness  of  God  in  preserving  me.  I  got  safe  to  the  house  to 
which  I  proposed  to  go.  And  in  the  evening  Mr.  Tyler  preached  a 
sermon,  which  greatly  affected  the  people,  who  were  under  concern, 
before :  but  they  with   much   difficulty  kept  silence,   till  the  sermon 


348  MEMOIRS    QF 

and  prayer  were  ended ;  and  then  cried  out  in  vehement  agonies, 
lamenting  their  lost  condition  without  a  Savior,  and  pleading  with 
God  to  have  mercy  on  them,  and  give  them  an  interest  in  Christ. 
At  this  time  I  had  an  awful  sense  of  the  state  of  the  damned,  who 
were  crying  out  under  their  torments  ;  but  past  remedy. 

Then  a  number  of  young  women  with  myself  withdrew  into  a 
chamber,  in  order  to  form  a  religious  society.  There  we  spent 
some  time  in  praying,  reading,  conversing  and  singing.  At  the  same 
time  a  company  of  young  men  were  engaged  in  another  room  in  the 
same  exercises.  We  happened  to  sing  in  both  rooms  at  the  same 
time.  The  melody  was  very  sweet,  and  gave  me  lively  apprehen- 
sions of  the  glorious  employment,  and  blessed  enjoyment  of  the 
saints  in  the  New  Jerusalem ;  and  filled  my  soul  with  adoring 
thoughts  of  God. 

But  in  my  return  to  the  place  where  I  lodged,  it  being  late  in  the 
night,  we  were  overtaken  in  the  most  awful  storm  of  thunder  and 
lightning  that  I  ever  heard  or  saw.  During  the  terrible  claps  of 
thunder  my  horse  stood  trembling ;  and  as  soon  as  they  ceased,  ran  with 
full  speed.  I  was  then  filled  with  a  greater  sense  of  the  awfulness  and 
majesty  of  a  God,  than  I  had  ever  experienced  before  ;  and  more 
realizing  thoughts  of  the  solemnity  of  the  last  day.  I  did  not  im- 
agine that  was  the  time ;  but  thought  it  a  great  resemblance  of  it. 
And  I  expected  every  moment  to  be  called  to  appear  before  my 
judge,  either  by  the  thunder  and  lightning  or  a  fall  from  my  horse. 
This  put  me  upon  examining  myself,  to  see  where  the  foundation  of 
my  hope  was  laid  ;  and  whether  I  had  real  grace,  and  a  sure  inte- 
rest in  Christ  that  he  might  then  be  my  advocate.  I  earnestly  plea- 
ded that  this  might  be  my  very  case.  Upon  strict  search  I  found 
such  evidence  as  kept  me  from  all  fears  of  hell.  Though  I  did  not 
then  feel  the  manifestations  of  the  love  of  God,  as  at  some  other 
times ;  yet  I  found  Christ  was  my  only  refuge.  But  just  after  the 
last  hard  clap  of  thunder,  my  horse  turning  suddenly  round  a  corner, 
threw  me  off  backward.  My  right  temple  came  first  to  the  ground. 
As  I  fell,  I  committed  my  spirit  into  the  hands  of  my  Savior,  expec- 
ting death  :  but  was  wonderfully  preserved  ;  so  that  I  was  but  little 
hurt.  Thus  God  shewed  me,  in  this  day  and  night  of  large  experi- 
ence, what  he  could  do  with  me  in  a  way  of  judgment ;  and  what 
for  me,  in  a  way  of  mercy,  in  preserving  me,  when  in  imminent 
danger  of  death.  Lord,  for  thine  own  name's  sake,  write  a  law  of 
gratitude  in  my  heart  for  this,  with  all  my  other  mercies.  O  Lord, 
what  am  I,  the  chief  of  sinners,  that  thou  art  thus  mindful  of  me  ! 

Soon  after  this,  we  fell  into  disagreeable  and  difficult  worldly  cir- 
cumstances, with  respect  to  living  and  paying  the  debts  we  owed. 
My  greatest  concern  was  with  respect  to  the  latter,  lest  we  should 
not  be  able  to  do  justice,  and  so  wrong  our  creditors,  and  bring  dis- 
honor on  God,  and  our  profession.  Under  this  pressure  and  distress, 
I  was  relieved  and   supported  by  the  following  words  of  Scripturej 


MRS.    SARAH    OSBORN.  349 

"  Let  your  conversation  be  without  covetousness ;  and  be  content 
with  such  things  as  ye  have  ;  for  he  hath  said,  I  will  never  leave 
thee,  nor  forsake  thee."  I  lived  cheerfully,  upon  this  promise,  for  a 
considerable  time.  And  God  ordered  things  so  that  our  creditors 
were  paid  to  their  satisfaction. 

I  have  often  thought  God  has  so  ordered  it  throughout  my  days 
hitherto,  that  I  should  be  in  an  afflicted,  low  condition,  as  to  worldly 
circumstances,  and  inclined  the  hearts  of  others  to  relieve  me  in 
all  my  distresses,  on  purpose  to  suppress  that  pride  of  my  nature, 
which  doubtless  would  have  been  acted  out  greatly  to  his  dishonor, 
had  I  enjoyed  health,  and  had  prosperity  so  as  to  live  independent  of 
others.  I  will  therefore  think  it  best  for  me  ;  for  the  tenderness  of 
my  friends  to  me,  has  always  had  a  tendency  to  humble  me  greatly, 
and  cause  me  to  admire  the  goodness  of  God  to  me,  that  while 
others  were  daily  complaining,  that  the  rich  have  many  friends,  but 
the  poor  is  despised  by  his  neighbor,  I  could  never  say  1  had  not  as 
much  love  and  respect  showed  me,  as  if  I  possessed  great  riches, 
and  that  by  the  rich,  as  well  as  the  poor.  So  that,  on  the  account  of 
my  poverty  I  never  was  despised. 

And  now  I  have,  according  to  my  desire,  committed  some  of  the 
many  thousands  of  my  experiences  to  writing.  And  I  will  give  my 
reasons  for  doing  it.  The  first  motive,  as  I  mentioned  in  the  intro- 
duction was,  that  I  might  be  excited  to  praise  and  glorify  that  God 
who  has  wrought  such  wonders  for  me.  And  through  the  influence 
of  his  blessed  Spirit,  moving  me  thereto,  it  has  had  this  effect,  in 
some  measure,  throughout  the  time  of  my  writing  it.  The  Lord 
grant  I  may  continue  so  all  my  days ;  and  then  my  first  great  end 
will   be  answered.     Secondly, 

I  have  always  reaped  much  benefit  myself,  by  reading  the  lives 
and  experiences  of  others.  Sometimes  they  have  been  blessed  to 
convince  me  of  sin — sometimes,  to  scatter  doubts — and  sometimes, 
to  raise  my  affections  into  a  flame.  When  expressions  have  been 
warm,  they  have  put  me  upon  imitating  them  as  well  as  I  could,  by 
"breathing  out  my  soul  in  like  manner.  And  though  1  fall  ever  so 
short  of  the  excellencies  with  which  others  have  been  endowed  ;  yet 
I  know  all  things  are  possible  with  God.  He  can  bless  a  word  from 
the  weakest,  meanest,  and  unworthiest  of  all  creatures,  even  me. 
If  a  word  in  these  lines  ever  prove  useful  to  one  soul,'  after  my  de- 
cease, it  will  be  ten  thousand  times  more  than  I  deserve  from  the 
hands  of  a  bountiful  God  :  To  him  alone  be  all  the  glory.  It  is  his 
glory,  I  trust,  through  rich  grace,  at  which  I  sincerely  aim.  And  if 
it  does  not  consist  with  that,  to  have  these  lines  seen  by  any,  either 
before  or  after  my  decease,  I  heartily  desire,  so  far  as  I  can  possibly 
fathom  that  unfathomable  deep,  my  own  deceitful  heart,  and  know  it 
that  they  may  be  all  buried  in  oblivion.  Surely,  I  had  rather  my 
name,  and  all  belonging  to  me,  should  be  forgotten  among  men,  than 
remembered  to  the  dishonor  of  my  God.     J  am   an  ignorant  short 


350  MEMOIRS    OF 

sighted  creature  :  but  God  knows  what  will  be  for  the  best.  To  him 
I  commit  it,  praying  that  in  his  allwise  providence,  it  may  be  dispo- 
sed of  as  he  sees  meet. 

N.  B.  Finished  writing  this  Dec.  18,  1743,  in  the  30th  year  of 
my  age." 

The  parents  of  Mrs.  Osborn  were  never  in  affluent  worldly  cir- 
cumstances ;  and  had  little  or  nothing  to  give  to  her  when  she  marri- 
ed :  And  perhaps  did  not  give  her  all  the  assistance  which  they  were 
able  to  do,  as  they  were  not  pleased  with  her  marrying  to  the  person 
whom  she  chose.  He  was  young,  and  a  seaman  and  had  nothing  be- 
forehand, and  died  in  the  second  voyage  after  he  was  married,  and 
she  was  left  a  poor  widow  with  one  young  child  before  she  was  twenty 
years  old.  She  continued  a  widow  more  than  eight  years.  In  which 
time  she  did  no  more  than  just  support  herself  and  son,  by  her  indus- 
try, in  keeping  a  small  school  part  of  the  time ;  which  business  she 
was  at  length,  obliged  to  relinquish,  by  sickness,  in  which  she  needed 
and  had  the  assistance  of  some  of  her  kind  friends.  Thus  she  continu- 
ed a  poor  widow,  till  she  married  the  second  time,  in  the  twenty 
ninth  year  of  her  age. 

Her  second  husband  was  in  some  trade  and  business  when  she 
married  him  ;  but  soon  appeared  to  owe  to  his  creditors  more  than  he 
was  able  to  pay.  They  gave  up  all  they  had,  and  their  creditors  were 
paid,  so  that  they  were  all  made  easy,  and  gave  them  a  discharge. 
From  that  time  he  did  but  little  or  no  business,  by  reason  of  bodily 
disorders,  and  other  infirmities.  At  the  same  time  he  had  children 
who  were  poor,  and  wanted  assistance.  In  these  circumstances, 
Mrs.  Osborn  began  to  keep  school  again  in  May,  1744.  In  which 
business  she  continued  about  thirty  years,  till  her  eyesight  and  bodily 
strength  failed,  so  that  she  was  obliged  to  give  it  up.  She  was,  during 
this  whole  time,  attended  with  bodily  weakness,  pains  and  infirmities; 
her  constitution  being  greatly  injured  by  taking  mercury  in  an  improp- 
er manner  and  degree,  which  was  prescribed  by  her  physician  when 
afflicted  with  the  distressing  disorder,  which  she  mentions  in  the  ac- 
count she  has  given  of  her  life,  the  weakening  and  painful  effects  of 
which  attended  her  to  the  day  of  her  death.  Under  these  disorders, 
which  were  at  times  very  distressing,  she  persevered  in  her  business, 
which  in  her  circumstances  required  a  diligence,  circumspection  and 
resolution,  which  have  been  equalled  by  few  or  none,  until  she  lost 
her  sight  and  strength,  to  such  a  degree  as  obliged  her  to  desist. 

For  this  space  of  about  thirty  years  she  presided  in  a  school,  which 
was  most  of  the  time  so  large  that  she  was  obliged  to  employ  assistants. 
The  whole  number  of  children  in  her  school  amounted  sometimes  to 
seventy  or  more,  some  of  whom,  at  times  eight  or  ten,  she  boarded. 

But,  having  a  considerable  family  of  her  own  to  maintain,  and  other 
dependents  which  she  thought  it  her  duty  to  help,  and  the  price  for 
schooling  and  boarding  being  low,  she,  through  this  whole  time,  was 
not  able  to  lay  up  any  thing ;  but  was  reduced  to  great  straits  and 


MRS.    SARAH    OSRORN.  351 

difficulties ;  and  at  the  end  of  the  year  she  frequently  found  herself 
in  the  rear,  rather  than  to  have  gained  any  overplus  or  stock  for  the 
next ;  this  kept  her  in  a  constant  state  of  peculiar  trial,  and  tempta- 
tion to  worldly  solicitude  and  anxiety,  which  required  an  uncommon 
degree  of  faith  and  piety  to  surmount.  And  sometimes,  under  the 
darkest  sppearances,  her  faith  would  so  far  fail  that  she  would  sink 
into  gloom  and  dejection,  especially  in  the  former  part  of  this  time. 
But  she  evidently  made  advances  in  her  faith  and  cheerful  resignation 
to  the  divine  will,  and  happy  contentment  with  the  allotments  of  Di- 
vine Providence,  while  her  trials  and  worldly  straits,  continued  as 
great  as  ever :  So  that  she  appeared,  at  length,  to  have  got  the  victory 
over  the  world  to  an  uncommon  degree,  and  to  have  enjoyed  a  calm, 
sweet  resignation  and  contentment  in  her  worldly  circumstances,  which 
was  the  source  of  high  religious  enjoyment,  in  the  constant  and  strong 
exercise  of  that  piety,  by  which  she  enjoyed  God  as  her  only  and 
eternal  portion.  This  appears  from  her  diary  ;  and  was  especially 
manifest  to  her  intimate  friends,  after  she  was  obliged  to  give  up  all 
business,  and  was  wholly  dependent  on  her  friends  for  support;  of 
which  a  more  particular  account  will  be  given,  before  these  memoirs 
are  finished. 

Mrs.  Osborn  began  to  keep  school  the  second  time,  as  has  been 
observed,  in  the  month  of  May,  1744,  in  the  thirty  first  year  of  her  age. 
With  respect  to  which  some  things  are  noted  in  her  diary,  which  may 
be  properly  transcribed  here. 

"  Saturday,  April  28,  1744. — This  day  I  am  determined,  if  the 
Lord  will,  to  enter  again  into  the  calling  of  keeping  school.  Will  the 
Lord  in  mercy  bless  my  endeavors,  and  prosper  the  work  of  my  hands, 
and  overrule  this  for  his  own  glory,  by  making  me  instrumental  in  pro- 
moting the  good  of  souls.  O  Lord,  if  thou  wilt  again  employ  me, 
and  make  me  faithful,  my  tongue  shall  sing  aloud  of  thy  righteousness. 
Oh,  preserve  me  from  making  dependence  on  any  thing  I  can  do,  ei- 
ther for  soul  or  body  :  But  if  it  may  consist  with  thy  will,  O  bless  me 
in  this  lawful  undertaking.  But  above  all,  O  Lord,  go  on  to  resign 
me  to  thy  will.  Not  mine,  but  thine  be  done.  Lord,  I  desire  to 
leave  it  with  thee.  O  undertake  for  me,  and  deal  graciously  with 
me,  for  thine  own  sake,  as  thou  usest  to  do  to  those  who  love  thy  name. 
Help  me  to  eye  thee  in  all  thy  dispensations  of  providence,  and  be 
thankful  to  thee  for  every  temporal  mercy.  Dear  Lord,  order  it  so 
that  thine  own  honor  may  be  secured,  and  thou  mayest  be  glorified  in 
me,  and  it  is  enough.  Once  more,  I  beg  to  be  resigned,  and  to  take 
all  things  well  at  thy  dear  hand.  Whether  thou  smile  or  frown,  let 
me  bless  and  love  ;  for  this  is  my  duty,  and  what  thou  justly  expectest 
of  me.  Lord,  thou  art  worthy  of  infinitely  more  love  and  praise  than 
I  am  capable  of  giving :  But  oh,  accept  my  attempts  to  love  and  praise, 
for  Jesus's  sake  alone.  In  his  name  I  come  to  thee  for  all  blessings, 
spiritual  and  temporal. 


352  MEMOIRS  OF 

"  Thursday,  May  10. — I  desire  to  record  it  with  thankfulness,  thai 
God  in  his  providence  gave  me  an  opportunity  last  evening  to  advise 
with  my  dear  aged  pastor  (Mr.  Clap)  about  praying  with  my  scholars. 
He  rejoiced  much  in  the  proposal ;  and  advised  me,  by  all  means,  to 
proceed,  and  let  nothing  discourage  me,  and  fear  no  scoffs ;  for  it 
was*  God's  cause,  and  he  who  put  it  into  my  heart  to  do  it,  would 
take  care  of  his  own  glory.  He  likewise  reminded  me  how  highly 
Christ  resented  it,  when  his  own  disciples  would  have  deprived  little 
children  of  privileges.  He  advised  me  to  be  brief  and  plain,  and 
often  to  mention  those  words  in  Matt.  vi.  "Ask,  and  ye  shall  re- 
ceive ;  seek,  and  ye  shall  find  ;  knock,  and  it  shall  be  opened  unto 
you."  And  those  in  Prov.  "  I  love  them  that  love  me,  and  those 
that  seek  me  early  shall  find  me."  And  to  make  confession  of  sin, 
and  plead  for  pardon  for  Christ's  sake.  Endeavor  to  follow  him  in 
plainness,  so  that  the  little  ones  might  understand  what  I  meant,  &c. 

"As  I  think  I  never  saw  him  more  joyful,  and  pleased  with  me, 
so  I  know  not  when  I  have  come  away  more  comforted :  for  my 
scruples  all  vanished.  And  now,  by  assisting  grace,  I  determine  to 
proceed,  as  God  shall  enable  me.  Blessed  be  God,  that  I  enjoy  so 
great  a  privilege  as  my  dear  pastor,  who  has  thus  encouraged  my 
faith,  obedience  and  joy;  and  helped  me  in  my  strait.  And  now, 
O  my  God,  I  am  convinced  it  is  my  duty  to  pray  with  my  dear  chil- 
dren, I  fly  to  thee  again  for  assisting  grace.  Lord,  without  that  it 
will  be  only  a  piece  of  formality,  and  will  never  prove  serviceable  to 
any.  J  beseech  thee,  O  Lord,  pour  out  on  me  a  spirit  of  prayer, 
and  fill  me  with  bowels  of  compassion  to  poor  little  ones." 

Mrs.  Osborn  not  only  prayed  daily  with  the  children  in  her  school; 
but  was  constant  and  careful  to  instruct  them  in  the  principles  of  re- 
ligion, and  in  their  duty  to  God  and  man ;  and  at  certain  times,  and 
on  particular  occasions,  seriously  addressed  them  on  the  concerns  of 
their  souls,  urging  their  attention  to  the  Bible,  to  Jesus  Christ,  and 
the  way  of  salvation  by  him ;  and  to  give  themselves  up  to  him,  to 
fear  and  serve  him,  &c.  Her  discourses  with  them  on  these  sub- 
jects frequently  appeared  to  make  impressions  on  their  minds,  and 
greatly  to  affect  them  :  and  most  of  the  many  hundreds  who  were 
instructed  in  her  school,  retained  a  love  and  esteem  for  her  in  the 
future  part  of  their  life,  and  numbers  of  them,  bow  many  cannot  be 
now  known,  have  never  lost  the  serious  impressions,  which  they  re- 
ceived by  her  instruction  and  admonitions;  but  they  have  issued  in 
their  saving  conversion  to  God.  And  we  may  reasonably  consider 
some  of  them  now  in  heaven  with  her,  as  her  glory,  and  joining  with 
her  in  mutual  joy. 

A  few  months  after  Mrs.  Osborn  began  to  keep  school  the  second 
time,  her  only  son,  Samuel  Wheaton,  died,  being  near  twelve  years 
old,  who  was  an  apprentice  in  the  country,  above  twenty  miles  from 
Newport,  and  was  a  promising  youth.  She  has  recorded  some  of 
her  exercises  under  this  trial,  part  of  which  will  be  here  inserted. 


MRS.    SARAH    OSBORN.  353 

"Friday  morning,  Sept.  22,  1744. — On  Thursday  afternoon,  the 
sixth  day  of  this  month,  I  had  the  sorrowful  news  that  my  only  son 
was  sick  unto  death.  God  in  his  providence  provided  presently  for 
me — my  dear  Susa  Anthony  to  keep  my  house — a  horse  for  my  hus- 
band and  myself  to  ride,  and  all  other  things  comfortable.  And  on 
my  way,  God  gave  me  such  a  sense  of  his  goodness  to  me  in  a  thou- 
sand instances,  that  instead  of  sinking  under  my  sorrow,  my  mind 
was  employed  in  attention  to,  and  blessing  God  for  my  mercies. 
Sometimes,  that  he  was  not  snatched  from  me  in  a  moment,  by  some 
awful  accident — that  he  was  not  at  so  great  a  distance,  but  I  might 
be  allowed  to  go  to  him,  with  hopes  of  finding  him  yet  alive.  And 
those  precious  promises  which  in  the  morning  had  supported  me, 
still  continued  as  a  refreshing  cordial;  even  these.  "Call  upon  me 
in  the  day  of  trouble,  and  I  will  hear  thee.  This  poor  man  cried, 
aud  the  Lord  heard  him ;  and  saved  him  out  of  all  his  troubles." 

"  On  Friday  morning  we  got  to  Rehoboth,  where  I  found  my  son 
much  swelled  with  a  dropsy,  and  pined  to  a  mere  skeleton  with  the 
jaundice,  scurvy  and  consumption,  all  combining.  He  rattled  in  his 
throat,  like  a  dying  person,  laboring  for  every  breath.  He  was  given 
over  by  the  doctors  and  all  friends,  who  lamented  him,  and  did  the 
best  for  him  in  their  power,  as  to  the  body.  But  alas !  my  great 
concern  was  for  that  precious  jewel,  his  immortal  soul.  I  endeavor- 
ed to  improve  every  opportunity  to  discourse  with  him,  and  read  to 
him  such  portions  of  scripture,  as  I  thought  suitable,  with  passages 
out  of  Mr.  Alleine's  Alarm,  &c.  And  I  was  enabled  to  pray  all  the 
day,  by  ejaculatory  breathings,  and  sometimes  to  plead  and  wrestle 
with  God  on  his  behalf:  though  alas  !  God  was  pleased  to  hide  his 
dealings  with  him  altogether.  For  I  could  discern  no  evidence  of  a 
work  of  grace  wrought  on  his  soul,  for  which  I  did  plead  from  day 
to  day.  I  did  not  so  much  as  once,  in  all  his  sickness,  pray  for  his 
life  ;  but  for  some  evidence  that  his  soul  might  live.  And  for  want 
of  this,  I  sometimes  seemed  to  be  crushed  down,  having  a  sense  of 
his  doleful  case,  if  not  reconciled  to  God.  On  Thursday,  Sept.  13, 
the  day  before  he  died,  I  was  just  ready  to  give  up,  and  sit  down 
discouraged.  My  heart  even  almost  died  with  fear  of  what  would 
become  of  him.  But  just  in  this  juncture,  God  in  his  providence 
ordered  it  so  that  I  received  a  letter  from  my  dear  Susa,  which  was 
a  cordial  to  my  drooping  spirits. 

"  In  his  dying  moments  I  had  an  awful  sense  of  his  deplorable 
condition,  if  his  naked  soul  should  launch  into  a  boundless  eternity, 
without  a  God  to  go  to.  I  had  also  a  view  and  sense  of  his  and  my 
utter  inability  to  help  ourselves,  and  utter  unworthiness  that  God 
should  help  us.  And  with  the  woman  of  Canaan,  I  cried  out,  Truth 
Lord,  I  am  as  unworthy  as  a  dog !  But  I  pleaded  for  the  crumbs 
that  fell,  one  of  which  would  be  sufficient  for  me  and  mine.  I  had 
a  clear  discovery  of  the  fullness  and  sufficiency  of  Christ  to  make 
satisfaction.     I  pleaded  that  he  would  have  mercy,  as  on  the  thief 

45 


354  MEMOIRS  OF 

on  the  cross,  then  at  the  eleventh  hour ;  apply  but  one  drop  of  his 
precious  blood,  and  it  was  enough.  Thus  I  was  enabled  to  fill  my 
mouth  with  arguments,  and  in  bitter  agony  of  soul  I  wrestled  with 
God  for  mercy  for  him.  Surely  the  pangs  I  then  endured  for  his 
soul  far  exceeded  those  that  brought  him  into  the  world.  But  as 
soon  as  the  soul  had  taken  its  flight,  I  was  eased  of  my  burden. 
I  immediately  cast  myself,  and  my  burden  too,  on  God.  I  adored 
him  as  a  sovereign  God,  and  blessed  his  name ;  for  he  had  given, 
and  it  was  he  who  had  taken.  Surely  he  was  better  to  me  than 
ten  sons. 

"I  then  arose  from  my  dead  child,  and  was  quieted,  for  the  will 
of  God  was  done,  and  my  work  was  done,  as  it  respected  my  child. 
And  God  was  pleased  to  give  such  evidence  of  his  love,  that  my 
mouth  was  filled  with  praises.  But  when  I  looked  on  the  young 
people  who  stood  round  lamenting  him,  I  felt  bowels  of  compassion 
for  them,  and  besought  them  to  take  warning,  and  make  their  speedy 
flight  to  the  blessed  Jesus,  before  sickness  and  death  overtook  them. 

"  While  friends  were  putting  on  his  grave  clothes,  I  went  out  into 
the  field  and  walked,  where,  with  more  secrecy  and  freedom,  I  could 
breathe  out  my  soul  to  God.  And  the  sweetness  of  that  season  I 
cannot  express.  God  discovered  himself  to  be  my  God,  my  cove- 
nant God,  my  Father,  my  Friend,  my  only  portion  and  happiness, 
my  sovereign,  my  all  in  all,  my  infinite  fountain  of  all  fulness.  And 
these  were  some  of  the  breathings  of  my  soul  after  him.  "  Lord, 
I  adore  thee  as  my  all.  I  rejoice  in  thee  as  my  only  portion.  Lord, 
if  I  have  thee,  I  have  enough.  Though  all  the  streams  were  cut 
off;  yet  the  fountain  remains ;  I  cannot  be  poor.  Whom  have  I  in 
heaven  but  thee  ?  And  there  is  none  on  earth  I  desire  besides  thee. 
Though  my  flesh  and  my  heart  fail ;  yet  God  is  the  strength  of  my 
heart  and  my  portion  forever.  Blessed  God,  though  death  separate 
from  all  things  here  below,  it  cannot  separate  between  thee  and  me." 
O,  here  I  rejoiced  again,  chose  my  God  again,  and  again  renewed 
the  dedication  of  myself  to  him,  my  whole  soul  and  body,  with  all 
I  have,  am,  or  can  do.  O,  his  word  comforted,  his  rod  comforted 
me.  I  saw  no  frown  in  it :  no,  but  the  kind  chastisement  of  my  in- 
dulgent Father.  This  portion  of  scripture  was  very  sweet,  "If  ye 
be  without  chastisement,  whereof  all  are  partakers,  then  are  ye  bas- 
tards, and  not  sons.  For  whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he  chasteneth." 
Therefore  I  cried  out,  "I  know,  O  Lord,  thy  judgments  are  right, 
and  in  very  faithfulness  thou  hast  afflicted  me." 

"  But  I  must  cease. — For  such  blessed  seasons  are  better  felt 
than  expressed.  I  continued  so  composed  and  comfortable,  that  1 
feared  those  who  knew  not  the  cause  would  think  me  void  of  natu- 
ral affection ;  till  my  taking  my  last  farewell  at  his  funeral.  And 
then  I  found  the  bonds  of  natural  affection  very  strong ;  and  I  wept 
much.  But  as  I  followed  to  the  grave,  I  pleaded  thus  with  God, 
"Lord,  I  adore  thee  still  as  my  sovereign.     I  do  not  repine  at  thy 


MRS.    SARAH    OSBORN.  355 

hand.  But,  dear  Lord,  pity  me,  and  suffer  me  to  weep  under  the 
smart  of  thy  rod ;  it  is  my  only  son."  Then  I  thought  on  Psalm  ciii. 
"As  a  father  pitieth  his  children,  so  the  Lord  pitieth  them  that  fear 
him."  This  comforted  me.  But  as  I  inquired  again,  if  my  tears 
were  not  sinful,  and  the  effect  of  an  unresigned  will,  which  1  dreaded 
most  of  all,  I  was  comforted  again  by  reflecting,  that  when  Martha 
and  Mary  wept  for  their  brother  Lazarus,  the  blessed  Jesus  was  not 
angry,  but  wept  with  them.  O,  then  I  again  adored  a  sympathizing 
Savior,  a  glorious  high  priest,  who  was  sensibly  touched  with  the 
feeling  of  my  infirmities.  These  and  such  like  were  the  exercises 
of  my  mind,  while  following  and  laying  my  dust  into  the  grave. 
And  ever  since  I  have  been  kept  composed  and  cheerful. 

11  The  Lord  in  mercy  grant  that  I  may  more  and  more  glorify 
him  in  this  affliction.  O  that  my  sins  may  be  more  mortified. 
Lord,  grant  I  may  come  out  of  this  furnace  as  gold  purified  and  fit- 
ted for  my  master's  use.  If  I  have  behaved  in  any  measure  as  be- 
comes a  child  of  God,  and  any  resignation  has  appeared  in  me, 
Lord,  it  is  all  owing  to  the  riches  of  thy  glorious  and  special  grace  : 
For  hadst  not  thou  by  that  compelled  me  to  act  otherwise,  I  should 
have  flown  in  thy  face,  murmured,  fretted  and  repined  at  thee ;  cast 
away  all  my  other  comforts  and  mercies,  and  said  I  had  none  left, 
because  thou  hadst  taken  one  from  me.  Lord,  these,  and  more 
than  these,  would  have  been  the  effects  of  my  perverse  nature. 
Therefore,  not  unto  me,  not  unto  me;  but  to  thy  glorious  name,  be 
all  the  glory  forever  and  ever.     Amen." 

In  the  year  1741,  a  religious,  female  society  was  formed  under 
the  care  of  Mrs.  Osborn,  they  having  chosen  her  to  be  their  head  ; 
of  which  she  makes  mention  in  her  account  of  her  own  life.  This 
society  met  for  some  time  twice  every  week,  viz.  on  Tuesday  and 
Friday  evenings.  Afterwards  they  agreed  to  meet  but  once  a  week, 
on  the  afternoon  of  Wednesday  or  Thursday.  Mrs.  Osborn  was 
continued  and  considered  the  head  of  this  society  from  that  time  to 
her  decease,  which  was  above  fifty  years. 

This  society  met  constantly  once  every  week,  during  the  whole 
time  of  its  existence,  excepting  a  few  interruptions,  by  some  extra- 
ordinary occurrences.  They  also  observed  four  whole  quarterly 
days  in  every  year,  as  days  of  fasting  and  prayer,  confessing  their 
sins,  and  seeking  God  for  spiritual  blessings  on  themselves,  on  the 
church  of  Christ,  and  on  all  nations.  They  also  were  wont  to  spend 
the  afternoon  of  every  first  Thursday  of  each  month  in  prayer  to- 
gether ;  and  the  afternoon  of  every  Saturday  before  the  monthly  ad- 
ministration of  the  Lord's  Supper.  They  had  a  box,  which  stood 
in  the  room  where  they  met,  into  which  money  was  put  by  each  one, 
as  she  was  able  and  inclined.  And  at  the  end  of  the  year,  or  any 
other  time,  when  they  thought  proper,  the  box  was,  by  their  consent, 
opened,  and  the  money  contained  in  it  counted,  and  generally  given 
for  the  support  of  the  gospel. 


S56  MEMOIRS  OF 

They  agreed  upon  a  number  of  articles  and  rules,  which  were 
committed  to  writing,  to  be  observed  by  the  society  and  by  each  in- 
dividual, and  to  be  signed  by  every  member,  and  by  every  one  who 
should  afterwards  be  admitted.  The  substance  of  these  is  as  fol- 
lows : — 

At  the  weekly  meeting  of  the  society,  when  the  appointed  hour 
arrives,  and  a  number  are  convened,  the  exercise  shall  begin  by 
reading  in  some  profitable  book,  till  all  have  come  in  who  are  ex- 
pected. Then  a  prayer  shall  be  made  by  one  of  the  members ; 
and  after  that,  a  chapter  in  the  Bible  shall  be  read,  and  religious 
conversation  be  attended  to,  as  time  shall  allow.  The  meeting  to 
be  concluded  by  another  prayer.  Four  quarterly  days  in  the  year, 
in  January,  April,  July  and  October,  beginning  on  the  first  day  of 
every  January,  to  be  observed  as  days  of  solemn  fasting  and  prayer. 
We  promise  not  to  ridicule  or  divulge  the  supposed  or  apparent  in- 
firmities of  any  fellow  member ;  but  to  keep  secret  all  things  rela- 
ting to  the  society,  the  discovery  of  which  might  tend  to  do  hurt  to 
the  society  or  any  individual.  We  resolve  to  be  charitably  watchful 
over  each  other,  to  advise,  caution  and  admonish,  where  we  judge 
there  is  occasion,  and  that  it  may  be  useful.  And  we  promise  not 
to  resent ;  but  kindly  and  thankfully  receive  such  friendly  advice  or 
reproof  from  any  one  of  our  members.  We  will  endeavor  that  our 
discourse,  while  together  shall  be  on  the  serious  and  important  sub- 
jects of  religion ;  and  when  separate,  that  our  speech  and  behavior 
shall  be  such  as  become  christians,  that  we  may  be  holy  in  all  con- 
versation.      _ — -"" 

If  any  member  commit  any  scandalous  sin,  or  walk  unruly,  and  after 
proper  reproof  continue  manifestly  impenitent,  she  shall  be  excluded 
from  us,  until  she  give  evidence  of  her  repentance.  Each  one  shall 
pay  her  proportion  to  defray  the  necessary  expenses  for  wood,  or  any 
thing  else,  unless  excused  by  the  society. 

When  any  person  shall  manifest  to  any  one  of  us  a  desire  to  join 
the  society,  it  shall  be  mentioned  in  one  of  our  meetings,  that  all 
may  have  opportunity,  who  desire  it,  to  satisfy  themselves,  respecting 
the  character  and  conversation  of  the  person  offering  to  join.  And 
if  at  the  meeting  of  the  next  week,  there  be  no  objection  to  her  be- 
ing admitted,  she  may  apply  to  the  head  of  the  society,  who  will  read 
our  articles  to  her,  and  if  she  is  willing,  and  do  sign  them,  she  shall 
be  considered  as  a  member  of  the  society,  regularly  admitted. 

As  to  any  other  matters,  which  we  shall  hereafter  find  conducive 
to  the  benefit  and  good  regulation  of  our  society,  we  engage  to  leave 
to  the  discretion  and  decision  of  a  major  part  of  us,  to  whose  deter- 
mination we  promise  quietly  to  agree  and  submit. 

This  society  was  found  to  be  of  great  advantage  to  many  if  not 
all  the  members  of  it,  to  the  church  and  congregation  to  which  most 
of  the  members  belonged,  and  to  the  interest  of  religion  in  gen- 
eral, especially  in  Newport,  by  their  prayers  and  apparent  sincerity 
and  engagedness  in  religion,  and  exemplary  conduct. 


MRS.  SARAH  OSBORN.  357 

Mrs.  Osbom  was  by  unanimous  consent  the  head  of  this  society 
above  fifty  years,  as  has  been  observed,  even  from  the  first  institution 
of  it,  to  the  day  of  her  death ;  and  a  great  part  of  the  time  their  meet- 
ings were  attended  at  her  house.  And  she  was  distinguished  in  her 
usefulness  in  this  station  and  capacity,  by  her  prayers,  her  conversa- 
tion, advice,  judgment,  prudence  and  example;  by  which  she  was  a 
principal  medium  of  the  long  and  happy  existence  and  union  of  the 
society.  Her  influence  apparently  reached  to  every  member,  and 
her  steady,  prudent  zeal  and  activity,  and  her  amiable  character, 
were  very  much  the  means  of  their  continuance  and  edification.  The 
society  continued  to  meet  in  the  room  in  which  she  lived,  till  her 
bodily  infirmities  were  so  increased  that  she  was  no  longer  able  to 
sustain  their  company,  and  the  exercises  of  the  meeting.  They  then 
withdrew  into  another  room  in  her  house,  where  she  was  tenderly  re- 
membered in  their  prayers ;  and  she  was  present  in  spirit  with  them, 
and  partook  largely  with  them  in  their  exercises  and  enjoyments. 

Mrs.  Osborn  was  esteemed  as  an  eminently  pious,  exemplary 
christian,  by  all  who  knew  her.  And  even  the  irreligious  and  pro- 
fane had  a  degree  of  veneration  for  her,  as  a  remarkably  good  woman. 
Few  or  none  have  obtained  this  character  more  universally  than  she 
did,  among  all  sorts  of  people,  who  knew  her  or  heard  of  her:  and 
not  many  women  had  a  more  numerous  acquaintance,  or  more  exten- 
sive fame.  Many  educated  in  her  school  were  afterwards  settled  in 
distant  parts,  and  spake  in  favor  of  her  character  and  school  to  their 
friends  and  acquaintance.  And  as  she  had  a  great  respect  for  the 
ministers  of  the  gospel,  she  corresponded  with  some  of  them ;  and 
many  others  visited  her,  agreeable  to  her  inclination  and  desire,  when 
they  came  to  Newport,  as  did  many  other  religious  persons.  By  this, 
as  well  as  what  has  been  before  mentioned,  her  name  and  character 
was  spread  abroad,  as  few  or  none  who  visited  her,  went  away  unim- 
pressed in  her  favor,  as  amiable  in  her  conversation  and  behavior, 
and  eminently  pious  and  benevolent.  In  conversation  she  appeared 
remarkably  mild,  pleasant  and  cheerful,  and  discovered  a  modest, 
meek,  humble,  tender  and  benevolent  mind,  impressed  with  the  se- 
rious, important  and  pleasing  truths  and  duties  of  Christianity.  The 
law  of  kindness  was  in  her  tongue  to  an  uncommon  degree.  She 
had  a  strong,  habitual  aversion  to  any  thing  like  aspersing  the  charac- 
ter of  others,  being  careful  to  speak  evil  of  none ;  and  when  occa- 
sion offered,  was  disposed  to  say  all  that  could  be  said  with  truth  in 
favor  of  the  worst.  She  was  often  greatly  grieved  and  rendered  very 
uncomfortable,  in  companies  where  slander  and  detraction  took  place, 
and  would  endeavor,  when  there  was  opportunity,  to  divert  the  con- 
versation from  topics  so  disagreeable  to  her.  This  part  of  her  char- 
acter, of  which  the  above  is  an  imperfect  sketch,  rendered  her  agree- 
able, and  recommended  her  to  the  esteem  and  affection  of  all  re- 
ligious persons  who  were  acquainted  with  her,  or  heard  a  true  report 
of  her.  And  this  procured  to  her  the  general  approbation  of  all,  of 
every  denomination  and  character,  as  an  eminently  good  woman. 


358  MEMOIRS  OF 

In  the  years  1766,  1767,  there  was  an  uncommon  attention  to  re- 
ligion, which  turned  the  thoughts  of  many  to  Mrs.  Osborn.  They 
repaired  to  her  as  a  known  pious,  benevolent  christian,  to  whom  they 
could  have  easy  access,  that  they  might  enjoy  her  counsel  and 
prayers.  This  was  the  occasion  of  numbers  resorting  to  her  house. 
When  she  saw  this,  and  that  the  number  increased,  she  was  at  a  great 
loss  what  to  do.  She  trembled  with  fear  that  if  she  encouraged  their 
meeting  at  her  house,  it  would  be  going  beyond  her  sphere,  offend 
some  of  her  christian  friends,  and  give  occasion  to  some  not  friendly 
to  religion,  to  speak  evil  of  her  and  of  religion,  and  so  do  much  more 
hurt  than  good.  On  the  other  hand,  she  was  afraid  to  discourage 
them,  and  refuse  to  let  them  come  to  her  and  meet  at  her  house,  when 
under  apparent  concern  about  their  souls,  lest,  by  this,  their  attention 
and  concern  should  abate  and  cease.  She  advised  with  her  christian 
friends,  and  some  ministers ;  and  upon  their  advising  her  to  encour- 
age them  and  attend  to  them,  she  granted  them  liberty  to  come,  and 
appointed  particular  times  for  their  coming.  The  poor  Blacks  ap- 
peared more  generally  concerned  and  engaged,  than  others.  They 
agreed  to  meet  at  Mrs.  Osborn's  on  the  evening  of  the  Sabbath.  She 
admitted  them,  on  condition  that  they  should  behave  orderly  in  com- 
ing and  retiring,  and  always  break  up  seasonably,  and  that  those  who 
were  not  free  should  not  come  without  the  consent  of  their  masters, 
and  that  they  should  not  make  any  acknowledgment  to  her  by  at- 
tempting any  compensation  by  presents,  or  any  other  way  ;  declaring 
that  she  would  not  receive  any  thing  of  this  kind  from  them.  On 
these  conditions  they  convened  in  great  numbers,  commonly  to  the 
amount  of  sixty  or  eighty,  and  sometimes  more.  Mrs.  Osborn,  find- 
ing their  attention  was  so  much  to  her,  was  greatly  cautious,  fearing 
to  go  beyond  her  line,  as  a  woman,  in  endeavoring  to  promote  their 
instruction  and  religious  impressions  for  the  good  of  their  souls.  She 
used  to  select  passages  of  scripture,  which  she  thought  would  be 
most  useful  to  them,  and  from  other  religious  books,  and  read  to  them : 
and  when  she  had  opportunity,  she  would  invite  some  christian  man 
to  pray  with  them.  She  took  opportunity  to  converse  with  individ- 
uals, and  sometimes  would  give  a  word  of  advice  to  them  all.  And 
where  she  could,  she  obtained  some  minister  to  preach  to  them,  and 
converse  with  them;  the  pastor  of  the  church,  to  which  she  belonged, 
not  being  able  to  attend. 

These  meetings  continued  a  year  or  more,  and  were  the  means 
of  the  apparent  reformation  of  many,  and  of  the  hopeful  conversion 
of  a  number. 

The  bodily  infirmities  of  Mrs.  Osborn  increased  so  much ;  and 
her  eyesight  failed  to  such  a  degree  for  above  twenty  years  of  the 
last  part  of  her  life,  and  her  whole  bodily  frame  was  so  weakened  and 
worn  out,  that  she  was  obliged  to  give  up  her  school,  and  was  not  able 
to  do  any  thing  to  support  herself.  And  as  she  had  nothing  laid  up 
to  live  upon,  she  was  wholly  dependent  on  Divine  Providence  and 


MRS.  SARAH  OSBORN.  359 

her  friends  for  daily  supplies,  during  the  whole  of  this  time;  and  was 
the  greatest  part  of  it,  confined  to  her  room.  This  was  in  many  re- 
spects the  happiest  part  of  her  life.  She  was  free  from  worldly  anx- 
iety and  care.  She  enjoyed  a  calmness  and  serenity  of  mind,  the 
attendant  of  resignation  to  God,  and  humble  trust  and  confidence  in 
him,  contented  with  the  allotments  of  Divine  Providence,  seeing  the 
hand  of  God  in  every  thing  which  took  place — constantly  thankful  to 
him  for  the  mercies  she  was  daily  and  every  hour  receiving — full  of 
gratitude  to  those  whom  God  inclined  to  show  kindness  to  her — spend- 
ing the  chief  of  her  time  and  strength  in  devotion,  in  contemplating 
the  divine  perfections  manifested  in  his  works  of  creation  and  provi- 
dence, and  in  his  word — adoring  and  praising  the  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Ghost,  praying  to  him  for  the  church  and  the  world  ;  for  her 
acquaintance,  relations,  friends,  benefactors  and  for  herself;  with 
constant,  humble  confession  of  unworthiness,  aggravated  sins,  and  de- 
pravity of  heart,  making  the  daily  occurrences  respecting  herself,  and 
others,  the  matter  of  prayer  and  praise. 

Mrs.  Osborn  often  said  to  her  friends  in  this  time,  that  she  consid- 
ered her  situation  and  circumstances  in  life,  to  be  the  best  for  her ; 
and  that  she  knew  of  none,  with  whom  she  could  wish  to  exchange 
outward  circumstances,  were  it  left  to  her  option.  She  expressed  a 
particular  satisfaction  in  living  sensibly  dependent  on  the  providence 
of  God,  for  daily  supplies  for  the  body,  living  with  God  by  the  day, 
as  she  used  to  express  it,  having  no  store  of  her  own,  and  not  able  to 
do  any  thing  to  supply  her  returning  wants,  and  not  knowing  how 
and  by  whom  they  would  be  supplied,  till  it  was  sent  in  to  her,  com- 
monly in  ways,  and  by  persons  not  thought  of  by  her.  This  was 
suited  to  excite  a  constant  sense  of  her  dependence  on  God  for  daily 
and  hourly  supplies,  and  the  exercise  of  trust  in  him,  and  constant 
application  to  him,  and  acknowledgment  and  admiration  of  his  good- 
ness in  supplying  her  wants,  in  a  way  and  at  times  suited  to  discover 
his  hand  and  particular  care  of  her ;  and  to  excite  her  gratitude  to 
her  friends,  and  prayers  for  them,  who  sent  or  brought  to  her  the 
things  she  wanted. 

In  this  manner  she  lived  more  than  twenty  years,  and  often  de- 
clared to  her  friends  that  her  daily  wants  were  fully  supplied,  and 
that  she  was  never  destitute  of  the  necessaries  of  life,  and  common- 
ly had  a  fullness,  and  often  abounded.  Her  wants  were  not  great. 
She  stood  in  need  of  daily  food,  washing,  candle  light,  fire  wood, 
and  some  clothing,  and  money  to  pay  the  rent  of  her  house,  which 
was  five  dollars  every  three  months.  All  these  wants  were  constant- 
ly supplied,  while  no  particular  person  was  engaged  to  do  it;  so  that 
she  had  none  to  depend  upon  but  God.  While  the  British  had  pos- 
sessions of  Rhode  Island  in  the  time  of  the  war,  which  was  near  three 
years,  the  inhabitants  of  Newport  were  driven  to  great  straits,  by 
the  scarcity  of  provision,  fuel,  he.  and  many  suffered  to  a  great  de- 
gree.    Mrs.  Osborn  lived  in  a  great  degree  of  quiet,  and  had  a  con- 


860  MEMOIRS  OS4 

stant  supply  of  the  necessaries  of  life  5  and  received  no  abuse  from 
the  British  officers  or  soldiers,  as  most  others  did.  Though  a  num- 
ber of  soldiers  were  quartered  near  the  house  in  which  she  lived, 
none  were  obtruded  on  her,  as  they  were  on  others.  And  as  to 
those  who  were  quartered  near  her ;  it  was  remarked  by  her  and 
others,  that  they  made  less  disturbance  and  noise,  than  they  did  else- 
where ;  and  were  particularly  careful  not  to  do  any  thing  on  the  Sab- 
bath to  disturb  that  good  woman,  as  they  called  her.  And  they  took 
care  to  avoid  all  profane  words  when  near  her.  Which  she  used  to 
mention  afterwards  to  her  friends,  as  a  remarkable  instance  of  the 
tender  care  and  protection  of  heaven. 

In  the  year  1778,  while  the  British  soldiers  had  possession  of  New- 
port, Mr.  Osborn,  her  husband,  died ;  and  a  grand  daughter  of  his, 
with  her  husband,  who  lived  in  her  house,  on  whom  she  had  some 
dependence  for  protection  and  assistance,  moved  into  the  country, 
by  which  she  appeared  more  destitute  and  exposed,  than  before,  be- 
ing left  alone. 

In  this  time  of  particular  danger  and  trial,  Mrs.  Mason,  a  person 
who  gave  good  evidence  that  she  was  a  real  friend  to  Christ,  and  to 
his  followers,  manifested  peculiar  friendship  and  generosity  towards 
her,  by  her  constant  attention  to  her,  and  supplying  many  of  her 
wants ;  and  continued  her  special  kindness  in  ministering  to  her  as 
long  as  she  (Mrs.  Mason)  lived,  which  she  did  till  March,  1792. 
Mrs.  Osborn  often  said,  that  Mrs.  Mason  never  failed  her  in  one  in- 
stance, as  a  peculiar  friend  and  constant  benefactor,  to  the  day  of  her 
death.  We  have  no  reason  to  doubt  that  they,  both  the  giver  and 
the  receiver,  are  peculiarly  happy  together  now ;  and  that  the  form- 
er is  rewarded  a  thousand  fold  for  all  her  kindness  to  the  latter,  as  a 
dear  disciple  of  Jesus  Christ.  Others  have  distinguished  themselves 
in  their  kindness  to  Mrs.  Osborn  in  ministering  to  her,  whom  it  is 
improper  to  mention,  as  they  are  yet  alive.  We  have  the  pleasure 
of  being  assured  that  they,  and  all  who  have  ministered  to  her,  be- 
cause she  belonged  to  Christ,  will  have  an  ample  reward  at  the  resur- 
rection of  the  just. 

There  was  something  peculiar  and  extraordinary  in  her  being  able 
punctually  to  pay  the  rent  of  her  house  in  this  time,  which  is  worthy 
of  particular  mention.  She  depended  wholly  upon  the  unsolicited 
benefactions  of  her  friends  for  this,  as  she  did  for  her  daily  support. 
And  no  one  was  engaged  to  assist  her  in  doing  this,  or  to  take  any 
care  about  it.  She  had  therefore  no  particular  person  to  look  to  for 
it,  or  to  make  up  any  deficiency  by  which  she  should  be  unable  to 
pay  what  was  due  at  the  end  of  each  quarter.  It  was  therefore  a 
very  precarious  matter,  to  human  appearance,  whether,  when  she 
had  paid  the  rent  of  one  quarter,  she  should  ever  be  able  to  pay 
another.  She  could  not  conjecture  from  whence  it  would  come,  as 
she  had  none  to  look  to  for  it,  but  that  God,  whose  is  the  world,  and 
the  fullness  thereof.     Her  intimate  friends  were  sometimes  concern- 


MRS.    SARAH    OSBORN.  361 

ed  for  her,  when  her  quarter  was  near  at  an  end,  and  she  had  receiv- 
ed but  part  of  the  five  dollars  which  would  he  soon  due,  and  there 
was  a  great  scarcity  of  money,  and  all  appearances  that  she  would 
not  be  able  to  pay.  When  this  was  suggested  to  her,  she  would  re- 
ply nearly  in  the  following  words.  "I  desire  to  be  thankful  to  God, 
I  do  not  feel  in  the  least  anxious  about  it.  I  do  not  doubt  of  my 
having  the  whole  of  the  money  at  the  time  in  which  it  will  be  due, 
or  near  it.  God  has  given  me  a  constant  and  earnest  desire  to  do 
justice,  and  pay  when  any  thing  is  due.  This  is  a  just  debt,  and 
God  has  been  pleased  hitherto  to  gratify  me  by  enabling  me  to  pay, 
when  it  is  due ;  and  I  believe  he  will  still  continue  to  do  it.  Per- 
haps I  shall  not  live  to  the  end  of  the  quarter.  I  shall  then  leave 
enough  to  pay  this  debt.  I  desire  to  leave  it  with  God."  She  gen- 
erally had  the  money  in  her  hand  by  the  time  it  was  due,  and  never 
failed  being  able  to  pay  with  punctuality.  She  frequently  did  not 
receive  much,  if  any  part  of  the  money,  till  just  before  the  quarter 
was  ended,  and  knew  not  from  whom,  or  from  whence  it  would 
come ;  yet  before  the  time  to  pay  came,  as  much  as  was  necessary 
to  answer  her  end  at  that  time,  would  be  brought  or  sent  to  her,  by 
persons  who  knew  nothing  of  her  present  strait.  And  it  was  often 
sent  by  persons  who  lived  at  a  distance,  which  would  come  to  her 
just  at  the  time  in  which  it  was  wanted.  She  had  money  sent  her 
from  Quebec,  from  the  West  Indies,  and  from  various  parts  of  the 
United  States. 

This  is  related  as  a  remarkable  instance  of  humble  trust  in  God, 
and  resignation  and  acquiescence  in  his  will ;  and  of  the  tender  care 
and  faithfulness  of  God,  and  loving  kindness  towards  one  devoted  to 
his  service,  and  trusting  in  his  promises  :  and  that  it  may  serve  as  an 
example  and  encouragement  to  all,  to  "  trust  in  the  Lord,  at  all  times 
and  pour  out  their  hearts  before  him/' 

Mrs.  Osborn  was,  in  the  last  twenty  years  of  her  life,  stripped  by 
degrees,  and  deprived  of  many  privileges  and  enjoyments,  which  to 
her  had  been  very  great  and  precious.  She  had  esteemed  public 
worship,  attending  on  the  preaching  of  the  gospel  and  public  institu- 
tions, as  far  more  desirable  and  important  than  all  worldly  good,  in 
attending  on  which  she  had  great  enjoyment.  But  her  bodily  in- 
firmities were  so  great  and  increasing,  that  for  near  twenty  years  she 
was  unable  to  attend  public  worship.  Her  eyes  failed  her  to  such  a 
degree,  that  she  wTas  obliged  to  lay  by  her  pen,  not  being  able  to 
write  any  thing  considerable,  which  she  had  done  before  this  with 
great  pleasure  and  profit  to  herself,  having  written  more  than  fifty 
volumes,  the  least  containing  near  one  hundred  pages,  the  bigger 
part  above  two  hundred,  and  a  number  three  hundred,  and  more, 
besides  letters  to  her  friends,  and  other  occasional  writing.  The 
failing  of  her  sight  also  deprived  her  of  the  pleasure  and  profit  of 
reading ;  especially  of  reading  the  Bible,  which  she  had  before  dai- 
ly perused  with  great  pleasure  and  advantage.     She  had  the  Bible, 

46 


362  MEM01RSS    &C. 

indeed,  read  to  her  daily ;  which  she  considered  as  an  unspeakable 
favor.  But  this  did  not  equal  the  privilege  of  being  able  to  have 
access  to  it,  at  all  times,  and  on  every  particular  occasion.  But  she 
paid  such  attention  to  the  Bible,  read  it  so  much,  and  so  treasured  it 
up  in  her  memory,  while  she  could  read,  that  she  found  great  plea- 
sure and  benefit  in  being  able  to  recollect  so  much  of  it,  when  she 
was  not  able  to  read  ;  which  she  frequently  mentioned  to  her  friends 
as  a  matter  of  thankfulness. 

As  she  drew  near  the  close  of  her  life,  she  was  a  proof  of  the 
strength  and  hope  of  the  righteous ;  was  an  instance  of  the  mysteri- 
ous example  of  flourishing  virtue,  with  the  decays  of  nature ;  of 
satisfaction  in  the  prospects  of  future  good,  when  from  the  world  she 
could  derive  no  pleasure.  "My  physician,"  she  said,  "  has  seriously 
intimated,  that  I  cannot  live  long  ;  but  I  am  not  alarmed.  Unless  my 
heart  deceive  me,  and  the  heart  is  deceitful  above  all  things,  and 
desperately  wicked;  but  unless  mine  greatly  deceive  me,  I  have  no 
reason  to  be  apprehensive  for  the  future  state.  It  appears  to  be  the 
will  of  God  that  I  should  go  hence.  I  ought  to  submit  to  his  will,  and 
I  do,  with  cheerfuness.  May  his  will  be  done."  In  another  season, 
she  said,  "  The  trials  of  my  situation  are  great ;  to  be  in  want  of 
breath,  is  very  distressing ;  pray  for  me,  that  I  may  have  patience 
and  resignation  :  I  desire  them  above  all  things.  O  pray  for  me  that 
in  these  last  hours  of  my  life,  I  may  not  cause  you  all  to  blush  that  I 
have  professed  Christianity."  It  being  remarked,  that  God  was  faith- 
ful, and  would  never  forsake  those  who  had  loved  and  served  him. 
"Yes,"  she  replied,  " I  know,  by  experience,  that  he  is  a  faithful 
covenant  keeping  God,  and  he  will  never  leave  those  who  love  and 
serve  him ;  though  without  his  grace  I  should  immediately  sink,  and 
my  mind  be  filled  with  darkness  and  repining."  In  this  temper  of 
humility  and  reliance  on  God,  she  continued,  and  gave  no  sign  of  im- 
patience, more  than  saying,  a  day  or  two  before  her  death,  when  she 
heard  the  bell  toll,  that  somebody  had  got  the  start  of  her. 

She  continued  to  sink  by  degrees,  till  after  a  distressing  turn,  she 
appeared  more  comfortable,  and  they  who  attended  her,  helped  her 
to  lie  down,  at  her  desire,  hoping  she  might  get  some  rest  and  sleep. 
They  left  her  for  a  few  minutes,  and  when  they  returned,  they  found 
her  breath  was  gone,  and  she  a  lifeless  corpse  !  Thus  she  left  the 
world,  and  passed  that  death  which  she  had  so  often  desired,  calm 
and  serene,  without  the  least  perceivable  struggle  or  groan,  and,  we 
doubt  not,  entered  into  that  rest  to  which  the  righteous  go,  on  the  2d 
day  of  August,  by  an  uncommon  concourse  of  people.  The  corpse 
was  carried  into  the  meeting  house,  and  a  funeral  sermon  was  preach- 
ed, by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Hopkins,  from  Ephesians  iv.  1.  1  therefore  the 
prisoner  of  the  Lord,  beseech  you,  that  ye  walk  worthy  of  the  voca- 
tion wherewith  ye  are  called. 

Note — From  the  Life  of  Mrs.  Osborn,  by  the  Rev  Samuel  Hopkins,  D.  D.  of 
Newport,  authotof  the  life  of  President  Edwards. 


3G3 


MISS   SUSANNA   ANTHONY. 


Miss  Susanna  Anthony,  was  born  at  Newport,  Rhode  Island, 
on  the  25th  clay  of  October,  1726.  Mr.  Isaac  Anthony  her  lather, 
was  a  native  of  Rhode  Island.  When  he  was  young,  he  went  to 
Boston  to  learn  the  trade  of  a  goldsmith.  There  he  became  ac- 
quainted with  Miss  Mercy  Chamberlin,  whom  he  afterwards  married 
and  settled  in  Newport,  where  they  lived  about  sixty  years  together. 
They  had  seven  daughters,  five  of  whom  survived  their  parents,  but 
no  son.  Susanna  who  was  their  youngest  daughter  except  one,  lived 
with  her  parents  until  they  died,  which  was  between  forty  and  fifty 
years.  She  was  never  married.  Her  parents  were  of  the  denomi- 
nation called  Friends  or  Quakers,  in  which  way  she  was  educated, 
until  she  was  about  fifteen  years  old,  when  she  was  the  subject  of  a 
series  of  remarkable  exercises,  of  which  she  has  given  a  particular 
account,  which  we  here  insert. 

"  Some  observable  passages  in  my  life  especially  the  first  seventeen 
years  of  it;  which  1  have  collected  from  some  memorandums,  and 
by  the  help  of  my  memory ;  and  now  set  them  down,  that  I  may 
with  more  ease  peruse  them.  And  as  they  are  designed  for  my 
own  use,  1  am  no  ways  solicitous  to  omit  any  thing  that  may  look 
trifling,  if  I  think  the  recording  it  may  serve  to  animate  me,  and 
excite  that  praise  in  my  soul,  which  is  everlastingly  due  to  the  great 
Author  and  Finisher  of  my  faith.  A  desire  to  revive  a  sense  of 
this  in  my  soul  has  led  me  to  review  what  I  had  formerly  written  ; 
and  to  recollect  what  my  memory  did  retain  ;  and  now  to  put  them  to- 
gether, in  the  order  of  their  dates,  so  that  being  in  this  compass, 
I  might  readily  look  over  them,  when  I  inclined  or  needed  it.  And 
here  I  have  begun  from  my  early  days.  O,  may  that  same  Divine 
Spirit,  which  has  worked  all  my  works  in  me  ever  excite  the  warm- 
est sentiments  of  gratitude,  love  and  wonder,  whenever  I  review 
these  records  of  the  divine  unmerited  displays  of  his  grace  !" 

I  was  early  taught  to  love,  fear  and  serve  the  Lord.  My  dear 
mother  took  great  pnins  to  form  my  mind  for  God.  And  blessed 
be  God,  who  by  his  Spirit,  followed  the  good  advice,  counsel  and 
warnings  ;  early  convincing  me  of  my  sinful  state,  of  the  corrupt 
fountain  in  my  soul.  The  first  sin  that  I  remember  to  have  been 
convinced  of  was  pride  :  and  this  1  saw  to  be  in  my  heart,  and  from 
thence  it  had  proceeded  into  act.  I  think  1  was  then  between  five 
and  six  years  old.  And  1  r.cmember  I  was  very  anxious  to  know 
whether,  if  I  grew  good  then,  God  would  forgive  me  :  and  inquired 
ol  some  of  my  friends,  as  to  this  matter.  In  the  general  they  resol- 
ved my  question,  and  read  the  eighteenth  chapter  of  Fzekiel  to  mc. 


364  MEMOIRS    OF 

This  put  me  with  working  with  all  my  might ;  and  keeping  up  good 
resolutions.  But  conviction  wore  off,  and  I  remember  but  little  of 
these  concerns,  until  1  was  about  seven  or  eight  years  old.  Then 
conviction  did  revive.  I  saw  more  of  the  sinfulness  of  my  heart ; 
but  r?ad  no  clear  knowledge  of  the  way  of  salvation  by  Jesus  Christ. 
I  knew  Christ  died  for  sinners  ;  but  how  we  became  interested  in  his 
death,  I  was  confused.  I  had,  though  young,  a  set  of  notions  of  my 
own,  and  was  excessively  superstitious.  I  worked  hard.  I  quarrel- 
led with  the  sovereignty  of  God.  I  remember,  I  felt  my  heart  rise 
and  my  enmity  worked  violently,  to  find  there  was  more  joy  over  one 
sinner  that  repenteth,  than  over  ninety  and  nine  just  persons ;  for  I 
had  worked  up  myself  into  such  a  good  conceit  of  myself,  that  1 
really  thought  I  was  one  of  the  just  persons.  O  shocking  ignorance 
and  presumption !  but  God,  who,  I  trust,  was  determined  to  bring 
me  home,  would  not  suffer  me  finally  to  persist  in  this  scheme ;  but 
did  multiply  conviction.  I  forsook  God,  and  fell  into  sins,  and  was 
roused  again  by  convictions. 

But  as  to  the  particular  circumstances  of  a  change,  which  I  sup- 
pose to  be  about  this  time,  I  cannot  remember  them.  The  most 
that  I  can  remember  is,  that  I  was  in  great  distress  about  my  soul ; 
that  I  saw  the  insufficiency  of  any  thing  I  could  do  to  save  me. 
And  about  this  time,  had  my  heart  much  carried  out  after  Christ, 
and  the  way  of  salvation  by  him.  And  I  remember  to  have  been 
filled  with  comfort  and  joy  in  religion.  I  should  not  think  these 
things  sufficient  evidences  that  I  had  experienced  a  work  of  grace  in 
my  soul,  had  I  experienced  nothing  more  since  that  time  ;  but  what  I 
trust  I  have  since  known  of  a  work  of  God  in  my  soul  inclines  me  to 
think  my  soul  was  then  brought  home  to  God  ;  that  I  then  had  true 
faith  in  God,  if  I  now  have.  I  can  much  better  remember  the  effects 
than  the  circumstances  of  these  things.  And  they  were  such  as  these : 
knowledge,  faith  and  love,   and  hatred  of  sin. 

As  to  my  knowledge,  though  to  this  day  I  have  reason  to  be  hum- 
bled to  the  dust  that  I  know  no  more  :  and  am  often  ready  to  cry  out 
of  my  ignorance,  that  I  am  ignorant  as  a  beast  before  the  Lord. 
Ah !  woe  is  me,  that  I  know  no  more  of  God,  and  divine,  spiritual 
things.  Yet  my  knowledge,  however  weak,  is  an  evidence  to  me, 
that  God  did  then  work  a  work  of  grace  in  my  soul.  For  now  I 
began  more  clearly  to  see  my  wretched  state  by  nature  and  practice 
my  need  of  a  Savior,  and  the  way  of  salvation  by  him.  My  mind 
was  enlightened,  and  drank  in  many  of  the  precious  truths  of  the 
gospel,  about  this  time.  And  from  this  time  1  had  a  clearer  knowl- 
edge of  Christ  as  mediator,  one  chosen  by  the  Father  for  sinners 
than  before. 

As  to  my  faith,  which  is  an  evidence  of  my  change.  After  this 
time,  which  I  suppose  to  be  about  the  eighth  or  ninth  year  of  my  age,  I 
did  frequently  endeavor  to  give  myself  up  to  God,  casting  all  my  con- 
cerns on  him ;  embracing  Christ  a?  my  only  Redeemer ;  resting  on 


MISS    SUSANNA    ANTHONY.  365 

him  as  my  only  high  priest  before  God  the  Father.  And  though  at 
this  age,  and  under  some  disadvantages,  I  had  not  a  thorough  doctri- 
nal knowledge,  which  renders  my  experiences,  at  this  time,  far  less 
clear,  than  otherwise  they  might  have  been,  yet  the  actings  of  my 
soul  towards  God  then,  appear  since  to  me,  as  far  as  I  can  discern, 
to  be  the  real  actings  of  true  faith. 

Again,  as  to  my  love.  Now  was  my  soul  taken  up  in  admiring  the 
glorious  way  of  salvation  by  Christ.  He  appeared  truly  amiable,  as 
the  Redeemer  of  lost  man.  Nor  was  the  Father's  love  less  wonder- 
ful, in  giving  his  Son  to  die.  I  can  remember  to  have  been  even 
wrapped  up  in  ecstacy  of  love  and  wonder.  For  some  time  my 
thoughts  seemed  only  to  dwell  and  live  on  the  admirable  views  of 
these  things.  I  wondered  they  wTere  no  more  admired  and  spoken 
of  by  others.  I  loved  the  word  of  God,  took  great  delight  in  rea- 
ding it,  and  in  all  the  exercises  of  religion.  My  greatest  delight  was 
to  pour  out  my  soul  before  God.  I  brought  before  him  the  minu- 
test concerns  of  my  life,  and  sought  his  direction  and  blessing.  It 
was  sweet  to  me  to  eye  God  in  all  I  did.  And  God  did  graciously 
indulge  my  love  and  sincerity,  (though  attended  with  many  childish 
weaknesses)  and  witnessed  that  he  heard  my  prayers.  O  !  what  en- 
largement did  I  now  receive  from  a  kind  and  gracious  God  !  and 
how  was  my  soul  taken  up  in  love  to  God  and  religion  !  and  in  hatred 
of  sin !  which  is  another  evidence.  I  found  a  hatred  of  all  sin,  as 
sin,  as  contrary  to  a  holy  God.  And  remember  to  have  examined 
myself  by  that  mark,  and  found  it  was  so  as  far  as  I  could  find  out; 
that  I  did  hate  sin,  for  sin's  sake,  and  love  holiness,  for  holiness  sake. 

Thus  I  went  on  for  some  time,  in  the  comforts  of  religion,  and  in 
the  practice  of  the  duties  of  it,  weary  of  the  world,  and  longing  af- 
ter God  ;  desirous  of  the  salvation  of  others.  In  particular,  1  re- 
member to  have  the  soul  of  my  youngest  sister  much  on  my  heart. 
She  was  about  six  years  and  a  half  yonnger  than  I  was  ;  and  I  used 
to  put  her  to  bed.  And  I  made  it  my  practice,  when  I  had  done,  to 
kneel  down  undiscovered,  and  seek  God's  special  blessing,  and 
constant  protection  for  her.  O  that  God  may  fulfill  my  earnest  re- 
quests for  her. 

But  after  some  time  I  began  to  lose  these  good  impressions,  and 
get  in  love  with  childish  vanities  and  plays.  And  thus  my  heart  de- 
clined from  God  and  duty.  Yet,  forever  blessed  be  God,  who  did 
not  suffer  me  wholly  to  lose  these  religious  impressions  :  but  followed 
me  with  his  Spirit,  though  I  strove  to  disregard  him,  and  follow  my 
sports  and  plays,  for  which  my  mother  reproved  me ;  and  I  resolved 
against  them  ;  yet  fell  again.  And  thus  I  continued,  often  afraid  and 
ashamed  to  pray,  until  forced  to  it  by  some  distressing  providence  : 
and  then  I  would  continue  steady  for  a  while ;  as  when  by  a  sudden 
stroke,  God  took  from  me  my  eldest  sister  whom  I  greatly  loved.  1 
then  flew  to  God  for  relief  and  support ;  and  that  the  blow  might  be 
sanctified   to  the  whole   family.     Thus,  when  trouble   was  near,   ! 


366  MEMOIRS    OF 

poured  out  my  prayer  to  God.  But  alas  !  I  was  not  steady  and  con- 
stant with  God.  My  heart,  after  all  that  God  had  done  for  me,  and 
all  I  had  engaged  for  God,  was  now  bent  to  backslide  from  God,  and 
would  have  fatally  apostatized  from  him,  had  he  not  kept  me  by  his 
mighty  power,  from  which  none  shall  be  ever  able  to  pluck  his  chil- 
dren ;  he  having  engaged  to  carry  on  the  work  he  has  begun,  will 
assuredly  fulfil  his  purpose.  This  I  verily  believe ;  for  otherwise  I 
had  never  been  recovered  from  such  foul  ungrateful  wanderings. 
O,  how  long  did  God  wait  to  be  gracious !  how  many  mercies  did 
he  bestow  on  me  !  how  many  gentle  reproofs  ;  how  many  kind  calls 
and  entreaties  did  he  use  !  but  still  I  forsook  the  Lord  my  Redeemer. 

And  now  he  began  to  hide  his  face  from  me,  and  suffer  Satan  to 
beset  me.  My  sins  appeared  great  and  I  was  covered  with  darkness 
and  confusion.  I  appeared  to  myself  amazingly  ignorant.  And  here 
Satan  strove  to  persuade  me  that  I  had  better  let  religion  alone,  until 
I  was  older.  Then  I  should  know  how  to  engage  in  it.  And  1  was 
tempted  to  believe  all  the  darkness  and  trouble  I  found  was  owing  to 
my  being  so  young,  that  I  had  not  sufficient  knowledge  to  engage 
in  any  thing  of  religion.  O,  what  distress  was  I  now  in  !  I  found  I 
could  not  now  cast  off  God,  and  the  concerns  of  my  soul ;  nor  could 
I  seem  to  pursue  them  to  any  purpose.  I  had  set  my  hand  to  the 
plough,  and  dare  not  resolvedly  look  back,  and  cast  off  all  thoughts 
of  God  and  my  soul ;  nor  would  God  suffer  me  thus  to  do.  No, 
adored  be  the  blessed  God,  who  was  now  about  to  bring  me  near 
himself.  Satan  had  often  suited  his  temptation  to  my  childish 
thoughts,  and  suggested  that  1  could  not  be  contented  if  I  went  to 
heaven  ;  for  I  could  not  be  contented  here  always  in  one  place.  I 
returned  the  question,  how  I  should  be  contented  in  hell  ?  but  here 
he  suggested  the  variety  of  company,  I  remember.  This  tempta- 
tion followed  me  closely.  But  the  other  concerning  my  being  too 
young  to  engage  in  religion,  was  now  very  powerful.  I  found  my- 
self entangled  in  a  labyrinth  of  darkness  and  confusion.  God  had 
justly  hid  himself  from  me.  The  teachings  of  his  Spirit  seemed  to 
be  gone,  and  as  I  groped  in  the  dark,  I  found  not  a  fixed  reliance  on 
Christ,  to  carry  on  his  work  in  my  soul ;  but  often  engaged  in  my 
own  strength  ;  and  then  was  foiled.  I  was  often  ready  to  think,  I 
never  would  advise  one  so  young  as  I  was,  to  set  about  religion  ; 
for  I  greatly  feared  I  never  should  obtain  the  favor  of  God ;  but 
should  make  shipwreck  of  faith;  not  considering  Christ's  care  of  his 
young,  inexperienced  disciples ;  that  these  have  a  peculiar  interest 
in  his  most  tender  care ;  and  that  his  promise  is  to  such  as  seek  him 
early,  that  they  shall  find  him.  Nor  was  I  sufficiently  humbled  un- 
der my  wicked  departure  from  God. 

O,  had  God  now  left  me,  what  had  I  done,  but  joined  with  Satan, 
and  utterly  forsaken  the  Lord  ?  but  thus  he  followed  me  with  the  con- 
victions of  his  Spirit,  sometimes  reproving ;  sometimes  enlightening 
and  encouraging  me ;  sometimes  suffering  Satan  to  assault  me,  until 


MISS    SUSANNA   ANTHONY.  367 

the  year  1740,*  when  the  Rev.  Mr.  Whitefield  came  here.  I  at- 
tended his  preaching,  and  was  quickened  to  give  more  diligence  to 
make  my  calling  and  election  sure.  I  read  more,  and  listened 
more  attentively  to  the  truths  of  the  gospel.  And  there  being  more 
talk  of  religion  now,  I  got  more  acquaintance  with  the  work  of  God 
in  the  souls  of  his  people,  and  resolved  more  diligently  to  labor  after 
a  life  of  holiness,  and  inward  conformity  to  God. 

Thus  I  continued.  In  the  year  1741,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Gilbert  Ten- 
nent  came  here.  He  had  been  here  before ;  but  I  had  never  heard 
him.  But  now  1  went.  And  some  of  my  friends,  being  much  af- 
fected under  the  word,  expressed  their  concern  to  me,  telling  me, 
they  wished  they  had  been  as  much  concerned  for  their  souls,  as 
they  thought  I  was.  This  roused  me.  I  burst  into  tears,  and  told 
them  they  did  not  know  what  a  dreadful  creature  I  was;  what  dread- 
ful thoughts  I  had.  And  exclaimed  against  myself  most  terribly; 
assuring  them  they  could  not  once  think  how  bad  I  was.  But,  O, 
how  was  I  harassed  and  worried,  after  I  had  told  this  to  them  ! 
Satan  worked  on  my  pride,  to  make  me  ashamed  that  I  had  let  any 
body  know  how  bad  1  was.  I  thought  they  would  not  think  me  fit 
to  live.  I  was  ready  to  think  every  one  would  look  on  me  to  be 
such  a  monster,  as  was  never  heard  of  before.  With  many  entreat- 
ies I  was  prevailed  on,  in  the  evening,  to  visit  Mr.  Tennent.  But 
my  mouth  was  shut.  I  dare  not  speak  a  word,  only  yes,  or  no. 
But  I  gained  light  by  this  worthy  minister's  preaching  and  conversa- 
tion.    Forever  blessed  be  God  that  I  saw  him. 

I  wonder  at,  and  adore  the  love  of  God  in  regarding  any  of  the 
fallen  apostate  race  of  rebelling  man.  I  am  surprised  at  his  con- 
descensions, when  I  read  of  his  dealings  with  his  eminent  servants, 
who  are  as  pillars  in  his  house,  and  such  from  whom  may  reasonably 
be  expected  some  suitable  returns,  though  none  can  compensate  the 
least  act  of  his  grace.  But,  O,  how  does  my  wonder  rise,  even  to 
astonishment,  when  I  review  but  what  my  treacherous  memory  yet 
retains  of  his  dealing  with  unworthy  me  !  O,  my  soul,  God  knew 
thee  to  be  a  helpless,  worthless,  depraved  worm.  He  knew  thy  sta- 
tion and  capacity  were  low  and  mean,  and  thy  ingratitude,  sloth  and 
negligence  great,  and  unbecoming  thee.  He  knew  what  poor  re- 
turns thou  wouldst  make.  And  yet,  O  surprising  grace !  I  believe 
there  are  many  of  the  former  to  whom  he  never  afforded  more 
speedy  succor  and  relief,  than  to  me.  Verily,  O  God,  it  is  like  thy 
nature,  immense  and  boundless.  For  thou  hast  chosen  the  base 
things  of  this  world,  babes  and  sucklings ;  yea,  things  that  are  not, 
to  shew  forth  thy  power  and  grace.  O,  the  height  and  depth  of  un- 
searchable grace  and  love ! 

But  to  return.  Now  I  engaged  to  be  the  Lord's,  and  bound  my- 
self to  him  in  a  short  written  covenant,  which  I  find  dated  Oct.  19, 


She  was  then  in  her  fourteenth  year. 


368  MEMOIRS   OF 

1741."  And  I  enjoyed  some  more  freedom  from  those  violent  dis- 
tresses, which  I  had  suffered  ;  but  was  not  wholly  delivered.  For 
my  fear  and  temptation  returned  at  times,  though  not  so  constant  as 
formerly.  And  God  graciously  allowed  me  some  near  access  to 
him  in  prayer.  A  very  little  after  this  I  was  seeking  God  for  a  par- 
ticular temporal  mercy;  and  was  powerfully  quieted  by  those  words, 
Matt.  vi.  33,  "  Seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  and  his  righteousness, 
and  all  these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you."  This  gave  my  mind 
a  calm  turn.  And  though  I  had  no  prospect  of  the  speedy  accom- 
plishment of  my  request;  yet  I  believed  in  the  promise;  and  left  it 
with  God,  and  was  as  well  satisfied  as  if  I  had  seen  it  done.  And, 
before  night,  to  the  wonder  of  many,  it  was  accomplished.  I  was 
filled  with  such  a  humbling  sense  of  the  goodness  of  God,  and  my 
own  vileness,  that  I  sat  as  one  not  concerned  in  the  matter ;  while 
others  were  rejoicing,  and  calling  on  me,  to  know  if  I  was  sorry. 
But  rny  soul  was  engaged  in  adoring  God  as  the  author  of  all  my 
mercies,  and  in  sealing  to  the  truth  of  his  word,  that  he  was  a  God 
hearing  prayer. 

I  now  began  more  strictly  to  examine  those  principles  of  religion 
in  which  I  had  been  educated.  But  to  find  Christ,  and  be  found  in 
him,  was  the  prevailing  concern  of  my  life.  For  I  was  so  often 
plunged  into  new  distresses,  that  I  could  not  pursue  any  thing  stead- 
ily. Yet  I  embraced  those  principles,  which  I  thought  most  agree- 
able to  divine  revelation,  without  changing  my  profession. f  But, 
when  I  had  light  and  hope  about  my  own  state,  I  wTas  disposed  to 
look  into  these  matters.  But  I  feared  to  be  too  much  engaged  in 
any  thing  that  did  not  immediately  concern  my  getting  into  Christ, 
by  a  true  and  vital  union  to  him.  Now  my  soul  longed  after  him, 
and  the  language  of  my  whole  heart  was  for  a  Christ,  a  whole  Christ, 
in  all  his  offices,  on  his  own  terms ;  and  that  he  would  manifest  him- 
self to  me  ;  giving  up  myself  to  him ;  engaging  to  be  his ;  afraid  of 
every  thing  that  might  offend  him.  I  had  some  discovery  of  Christ 
as  a  complete  Savior. 

Numberless  were  the  mistakes  and  errors,  into  which  I  ran  at  this 
time.  However,  though  Satan  urged  me  on  to  things,  to  an  extreme, 
yet,  I  trust,  God  brought  good  out  of  it,  and  taught  me  much  of  a 
gospel,  self-denying  spirit. 

About  this  time,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Wheelock  came  here,  and  preach- 
ed from  those  words,  2  Cor.  xiii.  5,  "  Examine  yourselves,  whether 
ye  be  in  the  faith,"  he.  This  put  me  on  a  serious  inquiry  into  the 
state  of  my  soul ;  which  I  had  scarce  allowed  myself  to  do  before  : 
but  rather  inclined  to  fix  in  my  mind  that  I  had  no  true  faith,  than 
to  admit  a  thought  that  possibly  I  had.     But  now  I  made  some  in- 


*  She  then  -wanted  six  days  of  being  fifteen  years  old. 

t  She  was  educated  in  the  profession  of  the  Quakers,  as  her  parents  were  of  that 
denomination. 


MISS    SUSANNA    ANTHONY.  369 

• 

quiry ;  and  dare  not  deny  those  evidences,  which  were  mentioned 
from  the  scriptures.  And,  by  a  sermon  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dickinson 
on  the  witness  of  the  Spirit,  I  found,  as  I  thought,  farther  ground  to 
hope  I  had  experienced  a  work  of  grace  in  my  soul.  But  I  had 
greater  discoveries  of  the  corruption  of  my  heart :  and  was  often 
amazed  and  confounded ;  especially  under  Mr.  Wheelock's  preach- 
ing :  but  not  so  as  to  lose  my  hope ;  though  it  was  often  very  low. 

But  now,  as  I  had  some  hope  and  relief,  I  set  myself  to  pursue 
the  inquiry  into  the  principles  of  religion.  I  read  Barclay's  Apolo- 
gy, Mr.  Vincent's  Exposition  of  the  Assembly's  Catechism,  and  sev- 
eral other  authors  on  the  same  subjects;  with  some  treatises  on  the  or- 
dinances, and  especially,  I  still  compared  them  with  scripture.  And, 
upon  the  whole,  after  prayer  and  supplication  to  God  for  direction, 
according  to  the  best  light  I  could  get,  without  applying  to  any  per- 
son, on  one  side  or  the  other,  I  was  convinced  that  the  ordinances  of 
Baptism  and  the  Lord's  Supper  were  of  divine  appointment  at  first. 
And  I  found  they  had  been  kept  up  in  the  church  by  the  apostles; 
and  could  find  no  proof  from  scripture  that  they  were  ever  abolish- 
ed, as  the  ceremonial  law  was:  and  therefore  still  were  in  force,  and 
ought  to  be  practised  by  christians.  I  was  now  convinced  they  were 
the  positive  commands  of  Christ,  and  not  to  be  slighted  or  neglected. 

As  to  the  doctrines  of  grace,  the  imputation  of  Adam's  sin  ;  the 
corruption  of  our  nature  ;  justification  by  the  imputation  of  the  right- 
eousness of  Christ,  through  faith  in  him ;  the  divine  sovereignty,  that 
grace  was  absolutely  free  and  sovereign,  without  any  foreseen  merit 
or  worth  in  the  creature,  according  to  Rom.  ix,  1  Pet.  i,  and  many 
other  passages  of  the  scripture  to  the  same  purpose ;  and  the  other 
doctrines  of  the  gospel,  as  set  forth  by  the  assembly  of  divines  at 
Westminster,  I  did  verily  believe  them  to  be  most  agreeable  to  the 
word  of  God ;  which  I  believe  to  be  the  only  rule  of  faith  and  prac- 
tice ;  by  which  the  Spirit  of  God  doth  lead  us  into  all  truth.  I  did 
embrace  these  doctrines,  according  to  the  best  light  I  had,  (after  a 
diligent  inquiry  after  the  truth,)  as  most  worthy  of  God,  and  warrant- 
ed by  his  word,  for  me  to  receive  and  walk  in ;  not  condemning 
others,  who  did  not  see  as  I  did.  Yet  I  still  continued  in  the  way 
in  which  I  had  been  educated,  waiting  on  God  for  farther  light  and 
establishment.     This  was  in  the  beginning  of  the  year  1742.* 

And  thus  I  continued  until  about  June  or  July;  when  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Fish  of  Stonington  came  here.  He  preached  from  these  words, 
"Wherefore,  he  is  able  also  to  save  them  to  the  uttermost,  that  come 
unto  God  by  him."  He  observed,  that  here  none  were  excluded, 
but  such  as  had  committed  the  unpardonable  sin.  It  was  a  sermon 
full  of  encouragement.  But  Satan  set  in  to  persuade  me  that  was 
my  case  ;  and  therefore  there  was  no  hope  for  me;  for  I  had,  under 
these  violent  temptations,   certainly  done  it.     O,  how  was  my  dis- 

*  When  she  had  entered  on  the  sixteenth  year  of  her  age. 
47 


370  MEMOIRS  OP 

• 

tress  now  increased  !  I  seemed  now  as  one  shut  up  in  despair. 
However,  I  went  in  the  evening  to  hear  him  again  :  but  seemed 
hardened,  as  one  given  over  of  God.  Whatever  he  said  of  terror, 
I  seemed  to  disregard,  as  so  far  below  what  I  should  soon  feel,  in  its 
full  weight  and  measure,  that  it  was  but  trifling.  And  what  he  said 
of  comfort  was  not  worth  my  regarding  ;  for  I  had  no  lot  or  portion 
in  that  matter.  Never  did  I  before  sit  under  a  sermon,  in  such  wild 
distraction  and  horror ;  yet  so  hardened,  as  I  now  appeared  to  my- 
self, in  absolute  despair.  It  is  shocking  to  me  now  to  reflect  on  the 
abandoned  frame  I  then  seemed  to  be  in.  I  thought  I  feared  noth- 
ing. No  expressions  of  terror  moved  me  to  bewail  my  misery;  but 
was  ready  to  wish  to  know  the  utmost  of  it.  In  this  situation  of 
mind  I  remained  most  of  the  night.  But  towards  morning,  falling 
asleep,  I  awaked  speaking  these  words,  O,  when  shall  this  mortal 
put  on  immortality !  And  my  mind  was  much  more  calm.  I  had 
some  impressions  of  a  religious  dream.  But  the  dream  soon  entire- 
ly vanished  from  my  mind.  However,  I  felt  so  much  encourage- 
ment, as  prevailed  on  me  to  go  again  to  hear  Mr.  Fish  give  a  word 
of  exhortation,  notwithstanding  all  my  dreadful  conclusions  on  the 
night  past.  And  he  spoke  from  these  words,  Col.  iii.  11,  "Where 
there  is  neither  Greek  nor  Jew,  circumcision  nor  uncircumcision, 
Barbarian,  Scythian,  bond  nor  free :  but  Christ  is  all,  and  in  all." 
I  cannot  remember  exactly  the  method  he  took :  but  he  spoke  of 
Christ  as  the  Alpha  and  Omega,  as  the  author  and  finisher  of  the 
believer's  faith ;  and,  as  such,  the  true  Christian  did  esteem  and 
prize  him. 

And  now,  I  trust,  the  Spirit  of  God  did  powerfully  apply  these 
truths  to  my  soul.  Thus,  thus,  infinitely  lovely  did  Christ  appear 
to  me.  And  now  I  was  enabled  to  choose  him  for  my  almighty 
Savior.  And  while  I  acted  faith  in  him,  the  blessed  Spirit,  I  trust, 
did  witness  with  my  spirit,  that  thus  and  thus  I  had  before  beheld 
and  embraced  him ;  and  that  he  was  precious  to  me,  as  he  is  to  all 
those  who  believe.  Much  of  the  day  I  spent  in  the  company  of 
Mr.  Fish,  and  some  other  christian  friends.  But  I  said  little.  My 
soul  was  taken  up  in  admiring  the  glorious  Redeemer,  and  the  riches 
of  divine  grace;  renewing  my  choice  of  him.  Setting  the  crown  on 
his  head.  Proclaiming  Jesus  King  in  and  over  my  whole  soul.  I 
sat  calm  and  serene ;  and  every  act  of  my  soul  was  rational  and 
solid  :  but  not  in  any  transport  or  ecstacy  of  joy  all  the  day.  But 
in  the  evening  God  was  pleased  to  fill  my  soul  with  unspeakable 
consolation  and  joy.  The  great  Redeemer  appeared  transcendently 
amiable ;  and  my  interest  in  him  clear  and  undoubted.  Such  were 
the  surprising  alterations  in  me,  that  some  did  conclude  that  was  the 
time  of  my  first  espousals ;  that  was  the  happy  moment  of  my  con- 
version. But  I  could  not  find  any  difference  in  kind,  though  there 
was  in  degree,  between  this  and  what  I  had  before  experienced. 
From  this  time,  I  was  never  in  such  deep  distress.     My  temptations 


MISS    SUSANNA    ANTHONY.  371 

fled  at  the  rebuke  of  the  Almighty ;  and  my  hope  was,  in  the  gen- 
eral, above  my  fears. 

And,  as  my  hope  now  prevailed  that  I  had  true  faith,  however 
weak,  my  desires  after  universal  obedience  to  the  commands  of 
Christ  were  strong.  And  firmly  believing  the  ordinances  of  bap- 
tism and  the  Lord's  supper  were  appointed  by  Christ,  and  all  believ- 
ers commanded  to  attend  on  them,  I  applied  myself  to  a  minister, 
who  gave  me  some  light  as  to  their  nature  and  design.  The  only 
person  to  whom  I  had  revealed  my  mind.  For  I  was  determined 
to  be  fully  persuaded  in  my  own  mind  and  conscience ;  and  not  to 
be  persuaded  thereto  by  others.  Some  of  my  most  intimate  friends, 
as  they  have  since  told  me,  really  thought  me  settled  in  the  way  in 
which  I  had  been  educated.  Nor  did  they  attempt  to  persuade  me 
to  change ;  leaving  me  to  my  own  reason,  or  rather  to  the  word  and 
Spirit  of  God,  for  direction.  This  has  often  since  been  a  great  sat- 
isfaction to  me.  For  by  this  means  I  was  the  better  able  to  see  in- 
to these  matters,  and  have  my  judgment  established. 

And  now  I  resolved  directly  to  acquaint  my  dear  mother  with  my 
design.  But,  O,  the  struggle  I  had  here  with  my  affections  !  I 
feared  it  would  grieve  my  tender  parents.  I  knew  their  tender 
affection  for  me  :  and  certainly,  if  they  loved  their  children,  they 
must  desire  to  see  them  walk  in  their  way,  which  they  thought 
most  right.  Here  I  found  indeed  a  hard  trial.  It  grieved  me  to 
my  inmost  soul  to  think  of  grieving  them  :  yet  I  dare  not  neglect 
my  duty.  I  have  often  thought  the  trial  would  not  have  been  so 
great,  to  have  to  struggle  with  their  anger,  as  their  love.  But,  bless- 
ed be  God,  I  had  not  that  to  fear,  as  to  any  severity  in  matters  of  re- 
ligion. It  is  impossible  to  express  how  my  heart  bled  at  the  thought 
of  wounding  them.  And  nothing  but  the  fear  of  incurring  the  di- 
vine displeasure,  could  have  prevailed  on  me  to  have  done  this  vio- 
lence to  my  affection.  But  this  prevailed  ;  the  fear  of  offending 
God.  I  poured  out  my  soul  to  him  for  them,  that  they  might  be 
comfortably  supported  under  it.  And  then  told  my  mother  my  con- 
cern and  intent.  She,  with  the  utmost  tenderness,  assured  me,  that 
neither  my  father,  nor  she,  would  force  my  conscience.  Only  she 
entreated  me  not  to  be  rash  or  hasty  in  what  I  did ;  but  consider 
well  of  it.  Which  I  told  her  I  had  done,  he.  Once  or  twice  after 
this,  I  discoursed  with  her  upon  it.  She  reasoned  with  me  a  little 
upon  the  subject;  but  I  was  now  so  fully  established,  that  it  did  not 
move  me  from  my  purpose. 

After  I  had  discoursed  with  my  mother,  being  in  secret,  pleading 
with  God  for  grace  and  strength  to  carry  me  through,  if  it  was  agree- 
able to  his  will ;  if  not,  that  I  might  never  engage ;  I  had  a  scruple 
arise  concerning  my  faith,  lest  it  should  not  be  true  and  saving  :  and 
then  perhaps  I  should  fall  away ;  and  so  bring  great  dishonor  on  God 
and  religion.  And  it  was  suggested  to  my  mind,  that  it  was  a  great 
thins:  to  forsake  father  and  mother  for  Christ,  and  not  have  an  inter- 


372  MEMOIRS    OF 

est  in  him  at  last.  And  that  it  was  indeed  a  great  thing  for  one  so 
young  to  engage  in  such  an  affair;  to  forsake  the  profession  in  which 
I  had  been  educated,  and  make  such  a  high  one,  as  none  in  the  fam- 
ily had  ever  ventured  to  do.  This  put  me  upon  wrestling  with 
strong  cries  to  the  Father  of  mercies  for  direction  and  assistance. 
And  I  was  quieted  by  the  following  words  of  scripture,  which  were 
very  powerfully  set  home  on  my  soul.  "  Verily,  there  is  no  man, 
that  hath  left  father  or  mother,  brethren  or  sisters,  he.  for  my  sake, 
but  he  shall  receive  an  hundred  fold  here ;  and  in  the  world  to  come 
eternal  life."  And  again,  "  My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee.  My 
strength  is  made  perfect  in  weakness."  Again,  "  Lest  a  promise 
being  left  us  of  entering  into  his  rest,  any  of  you  should  seem  to 
come  short  of  it.  O,  thou  of  little  faith,  wherefore  didst  thou  doubt?" 
These  words  were  impressed  on  my  mind  with  such  power,  that  had 
all  the  world  stood  up  to  oppose,  I  thought  I  could  fearless  venture 
to  go  on,  against  them  all,  in  the  strength  of  my  Redeemer.  O, 
how  powerfully  did  they  establish  and  invigorate  my  soul,  in  the  pur- 
suit of  my  duty ! 

I  was  then  determined  to  proceed,  relying  on  Christ,  in  the  prom- 
ises. If  his  grace  was  sufficient  for  me ;  and  his  strength  might  be 
made  perfect  in  my  weakness,  it  was  enough ;  which  I  then  believed 
it  would  be,  according  to  his  word.  It  was  ground  sufficient  for  me 
to  engage  in  this  concern,  however  difficult,  great  and  singular  it 
might  appear,  for  one  of  my  age.*  O,  how  did  Christ  now  appear 
for  me  !  At  once,  dispelling  all  my  doubts  and  fears,  confirming  and 
establishing  me,  both  as  to  my  own  good  state,  and  his  certain  pres- 
ence and  assistance  in  my  following  him  in  the  way  of  his  appoint- 
ment, to  which  he  had  called  me.  I  saw  the  call  was  his,  and  the 
promise  his,  and  the  duty  mine  to  comply.  I  now  believed  him  com- 
manding me  to  seek  his  face  in  this  way,  and  my  heart  returned,  Thy 
face,  O  Lord,  will  I  seek. 

And  having  made  some  search  into  the  scriptural  mode  of  baptism, 
I  was  well  satisfied  as  to  sprinkling.  It  appeared  from  scripture  and 
reason  to  be  right.  I  then  went  to  the  Rev.  Mr.  Clap;  and,  after 
discoursing  with  him,  gave  up  my  name  to  be  taken  into  his  church. 
The  day  before  this  was  to  be  completed,  I  was  under  some  dark- 
ness and  fears:  and  therefore  was  afraid  lest  God  should  hide  his 
face  from  me,  in  the  solemn  transaction.  And  by  this  means  Satan 
took  the  advantage  to  make  me  question  whether  I  had  done  right, 
in  what  I  had  done.  I  knew  the  subtilty  of  Satan  to  perplex  my 
soul,  and  make  me  fear  all  was  wrong,  when  God  did  not  afford  light 
and  evidence.  I  was  now  ready  to  conclude  to  send  the  minister 
word,  that  I  should  not  go  out  the  next  day.  But  now,  even  noiv 
was  God  pleased  to  speak  to  my  soul  by  his  Spirit,  in  those  words, 
"  I  said  not  unto  the  seed  of  Jacob,  Seek  ye  me  in  vain  !"     Here  I 

% 

*  Not  quite  sixteen  years  old. 


MISS  SUSANNA  ANTHONY.  373 

was  led  to  review  my  calls  to  these  ordinances ;  and  was  powerfully 
convinced  they  were  from  God.  That  it  was  God,  and  only  he,  who 
had  bid  me  seek  his  face  in  these  duties ;  and  then  the  blessed  Spirit 
assured  me,  from  the  word  of  God,  that  he  had  not  bid  me  seek  his 
face  here,  in  vain.  1  then  determined  to  do  my  duty,  and  leave  the 
event  with  God  :  if  he  saw  best  to  own  his  own  institutions,  by  afford- 
ing his  sensible  presence  and  grace,  well :  but  if  he  saw  best  to  deny 
his  sensible  comfort,  it  was  my  duty  to  submit ;  but  not  to  omit  my 
duty  by  not  going.  Thus  I  cast  my  burden  on  God,  pleading,  if  it 
was  his  will,  that  he  would  welcome  me  there,  by  the  light  of  his 
countenance,  and  the  joy  of  his  salvation.  But,  above  all,  that  I  might 
approve  myself  to  him  in  the  devout,  solemn,  humble  and  faithful 
discharge  of  my  duty,  though  I  felt  not  that  joy  which  was  sweet  to 
my  soul. 

And  thus,  on  October  24,  1742,*  I  was  baptized,  and  taken  into 
the  church.  My  soul  was,  in  a  most  solemn  manner,  engaged  to  ap- 
prove myself  to  God.  And  never  had  I  more  sensibly  exercised 
faith,  than  now.  While  the  covenant  was  read,  I  was  enabled  to  give 
up  my  whole  soul  and  body  to  God,  taking  him  for  my  own,  only 
covenant  God.  And,  indeed,  the  whole  time  was  taken  up  in  the 
most  solemn  transaction  between  God  and  my  soul,  and  in  this  so 
solemn  engagement,  sealed  on  both  sides.  I  sealed  to  be  the  Lord's; 
and  here  God  sealed  to  be  mine,  my  Father,  my  Redeemer,  and  my 
Sanctifier  ;  my  only,  everlasting  refuge  and  hope.  O,  how  happy 
did  I  now  appear  to  be,  under  these  solemn  vows,  calling  on  saints 
and  angels  to  witness  the  solemn  transaction  ! 

"  Here  in  thy  courts  I  leave  my  vow, 

And  thy  rich  grace  record ; 
Witness,  ye  saints,  who  hear  me  now, 

If  I  forsake  the  Lord." 

The  121st  Psalm  was  sung  in  Dr.  Watts's  version.  The  title, 
"  Divine  protection."  Which  did  then,  and  ever  since,  appear  very 
precious  to  me  ;  especially  the  two  first,  and  two  last  verses.  The 
two  last  are  these  : 

"  Should  earth  and  hell  with  malice  burn, 

Still  thou  shalt  go,  and  still  return, 
Safe  in  the  Lord ;  his  heavenly  care 

Defends  thy  life  from  every  snare. 

"  On  thee  foul  spirits  have  no  power, 

And  in  thy  last  departing  hour, 
Angels,  that  trace  the  airy  road, 

Shall  bear  thee  homeward  to  thy  God.'' 

I  was  now  fully  satisfied  in  what  I  had  done ;  and  never  since,  so 
far  as  I  can  remember,  have  had  one  doubt  or  scruple  about  the  doc- 
trines or  ordinances  which  I  then  embraced ;  which  is  now  above 


■  The  day  before  she  was  sixteen  years  old. 


374  MEMOIRS  OF 

eleven  years  ago.*  I  have  often  found  cause  to  bless  God  for  the 
many  trials  I  had  concerning  the  changing  my  religion,  as  to  these 
things.  For  by  this  my  judgment  was  more  enlightened,  and  more 
fully  confirmed,  that  I  was  right  in  what  I  then  did.  It  was  with  de- 
liberation and  solid  determination  of  my  judgment ;  free  from  con- 
straint, persuasion  or  prejudice,  that  I  proceeded  in  these  matters,  as 
what,  from  the  best  light  I  then  had,  or  now  have,  in  the  word  of 
God,  I  think  to  be  most  clearly  revealed.  Yet,  I  still  love  and  honor 
those,  who,  I  hope,  are  truly  pious,  among  that  people,  though  differ- 
ing from  me  in  some  sentiments ;  and  I  firmly  believe  God  has  his 
chosen  ones  among  them.  My  acquaintance  with  some,  of  exem- 
plary lives  and  conversation,  and  christian  experiences,  so  agreeable 
to  the  word  of  God,  forbids  my  censuring  them,  merely  because  they 
do  not  see  or  profess  just  as  I  do. 

But  to  go  on  with  my  own  experiences.  My  faith  began  evidently 
to  increase  under  these  means  and  ordinances.  And  for  some  weeks 
after  this  solemn  transaction,  I  enjoyed  more  solid  steady  peace  in 
my  soul,  than  ever  I  had  done  before  :  and  was  often  melted  down 
before  God,  to  see  those  who  had  been  educated  in  these  principles, 
and  had  all  outward  helps  to  forward  them  in  coming  up  to  these  sa- 
cred institutions  of  Christ ;  yet  fearing  to  take  the  vows  of  God  upon 
them :  and  I,  who  was  called  to  engage  with  so  many  difficulties,  com- 
pelled to  come  in  to  this  marriage  supper.  It  was  truly  affecting, 
and  often  caused  me  to  cry  out,  Why  me,  Lord,  why  me  ?  O.  bless- 
ed be  God,  that  I  was  thus  young  brought  to  an  open,  public  pro- 
fession of  him  ;  and  had  the  seals  of  the  covenant  set  on  me  !  It  was 
a  day  of  the  gladness  of  my  heart.  A  day  forever  to  be  remem- 
bered with  joy.  A  day,  in  which  God  took  me  near  himself.  And 
I  trust  I  shall  ever  find  a  solid  satisfaction  in  what  I  then  did. 
Nothing  should  have  tempted  me  to  have  wished  myself  from  under 
these  bonds  and  seals. 

Thus  was  my  soul  daily  established  in  God.  Every  outward  re- 
proach that  was  cast  on  me,  was  improved,  either  to  put  me  on  see- 
ing that  my  foundation  was  right,  or  studying  how  I  might  more  glo- 
rify God,  and  honor  the  sacred  profession  I  had  made.  My  soul  was 
built  up  under  the  word  and  ordinances  of  God,  on  which  he  had 
taught  me  to  set  a  high  value,  as  being  his  own  institutions. 

And  though  God  has  since  sometimes  corrected  my  backslidings, 
and  hid  his  face  for  a  small  moment ;  yet  his  loving  kindness  has  he 
not  taken  from  me,  nor  suffered  his  faithfulness  to  fail :  but  has  gra- 
ciously led  me  along  by  still  waters ;  and  in  green  pastures  has  he 
caused  me  to  feed.  His  rod  and  his  staff  have  comforted  me.  In 
and  by  every  affliction,  he  has  taught  me  his  tender  care  over  me. 
In  every  cross  and  disappointment,  he  has,  sooner  or  later,  made  me 
to  adore  his  wisdom,   and  see  his  kind   designs  of  love,  and  mercy. 

*  Hence  it  appears  that  she  was  twenty  seven  years  old,  when  she  wrote  this. 


MISS  SUSANNA  ANTHONY.  475 

And  though  he  has  sometimes  called  me  into  the  field  of  battle ;  yet 
he  has  harnessed  me  for  the  battle,  and  fought  for  me.  Innumerable 
evils  have  compassed  me  around.  Satan,  the  world,  and  my  own 
wicked,  deceitful  heart,  all  combined  to  devour  me  quick ;  yet  his 
arm  alone  has  sustained  me.  Even  when  every  refuge  failed,  and 
my  faith  was  ready  to  stagger,  my  extremity  has  been  his  opportu- 
nity.    He  has  never  left  me  unsuccored  or  without  relief. 

After  I  had  enjoyed  great  peace  in  my  soul,  and  had  sat  under  the 
droppings  of  the  sanctuary  of  God  with  vast  delight,  he  was  pleased 
awfully  to  bereave  me  of  both  my  ever  dear  and  Rev.  Pastors : 
which  was  a  very  sore  affliction  :  yet,  under  this  trial,  he  taught  me 
much  by  what  I  experienced. 

Then  was  he  pleased  to  visit  me  with  many  and  great  bodily  dis- 
orders, whereby  I  have  been  often  brought,  to  appearance,  to  the 
gates  of  the  grave ;  and  every  outward  comfort  of  food  or  physic 
rendered  a  terror,  and  an  aggravation  of  my  pain.  Yet  by  all  these 
things  have  I  been  taught  the  riches  of  his  grace  and  love ;  and  in  all 
has  he  been  my  comforter,  and  my  only  all-sufficient  refuge.  How 
hath  he  borne  me,  and  my  burdens  !  And  it  is  with  pleasure  that  I 
now  recount  the  most  distressing  trials  of  my  life  :  For  by  these  has 
God  bound  me  faster  to  himself;  laid  me  under  renewed  obligations 
to  live  devoted  to  him,  and  his  glory. 

And  when  Satan  has  been  permitted,  as  he  has  been  in  later  years, 
most  furiously  to  rally  all  his  forces  against  the  foundation  of  my 
hope,  as  to  all  religion  :  By  which  I  have  been  led  into  the  most  ter- 
rible conflicts  and  combats,  with  the  united  powers  of  hell,  so  that  I 
have  even  chosen  strangling  and  death,  rather  than  an  encounter  with 
these  legions  of  foul  spirits.  How  dreadful  the  wrar !  Yet,  how  glori- 
ous the  victory,  which  my  Redemer  has  gained  !  How  wisely  has  he 
defeated  Satan,  and  put  him  to  flight,  and  filled  my  soul  with  songs 
of  deliverance  !  O,  howT  hath  he  defeated  every  hellish  plot,  that  has 
been  laid  for  my  entire  destruction. 

I  am  surely  bound  by  the  most  sacred  obligation  to  live  to  his  glo- 
ry. His  right  in  me  is  indisputable.  The  flesh,  the  world,  and  the 
devil,  must  all  give  back,  and  own  his  sovereign  right  in  and  over 
me.  His  arm  alone  has  rescued  my  soul  from  hell ;  and  his  shall 
be  the  glory.  O  my  soul,  remember  the  victories  and  triumphs  of 
thy  most  kind  and  gracious  Redeemer,  over  sin,  Satan  and  the  world, 
when  they  have  all  united  for  thy  utter  ruin.  What  infinite  wisdom, 
what  almighty  power,  what  irresistible  grace,  what  glorious  goodness, 
what  uncontrollable  sovereignty,  and  what  amazing  condescension, 
have  been  displayed  towards  thee  !  Can  I,  O,  can  I,  ever  forget  the 
loving  kindness  of  the  Lord,  and  slight  his  tender  mercies !  How  had 
my  faith  utterly  failed,  had  not  the  unseen  arm  of  Jehovah  sustained 
it !  How  often  have  my  hopes  been  at  the  lowest  ebb,  when  speedy 
relief  has  been  brought  to  me ! 


376  MEMOIRS  OF 

And  how  often,  when  my  sin  and  folly  has  exposed  me  to  the  rage 
of  hell  and  the  malice  of  men ;  yea,  to  my  Savior's  severe  rebukes, 
as  well  as  to  my  own  accusing  conscience,  has  Jesus  engaged  for 
me,  and  delivered  me  from  all  my  fears  !  How  slow  has  his  anger 
moved  !  How  swift  his  grace  !  How  innumerable  are  these  in- 
stances ! 

How  tenderly  has  he  been  untwisting  my  heart  from  the  world,  to 
which  it  has  dinged  !  How  much  wisdom  has  he  ever  manifested 
in  all  the  methods  he  has  taken  with  my  rebellious  heart ;  and  made 
me  to  adore  it,  in  some  of  the  sorest  trials.  How  has  he  conde- 
scended to  instruct  and  teach  me ;  kindly  showing  me,  wherefore  he 
did  correct  me ;  as  though  he  would  not  suffer  me  to  suspect  his 
kindness.  O  unparalleled  goodness !  Thou,  Lord,  hast  been  my 
refuge,  my  support  and  comforter,  in  every  time  of  trouble.  And  in 
almost  every  trial  and  affliction  have  I  vowed  to  the  Lord,  that  if  he 
would  then  deliver  me  out  of  my  distress,  I  would  use  my  most  stu- 
dious endeavor  to  trust  more  firmly  in  him.  And  he  has,  sooner  or 
later,  brought  me  to  cast  my  cares  and  burdens  on  him ;  giving  up 
every,  even  the  most  minute  concern  of  mine,  to  his  allwise  disposal. 
And  on  every  deliverance  have  I  been  led  to  renew  the  sacred  en- 
gagements which  I  have  made  in  distress. 

And  now  I  am  no  more  my  own.  I  am  the  Lord's,  by  all  the 
bonds  and  obligations  of  a  rational,  redeemed ,  devoted  creature. 
God  has  been  long  teaching  me  his  absolute  right  in  me,  and  all  my 
services  and  enjoyments ;  that  I  can  call  nothing  my  own ;  that  he 
has  a  sovereign  right  to  these,  as  the  creator  and  bestower  of  all ; 
and  by  my  own  most  voluntary  surrender  of  all  to  him ;  renouncing, 
in  the  most  solemn  manner,  all  hope,  expectation,  and  desire,  from 
the  creature,  and  choosing  him  alone  for  my  portion,  desire  and 
delight. 

And  as  it  has  been  the  ardent  desire,  the  importunate  request,  and 
the  grand  pursuit  of  my  life,  to  lay  up  all  my  good  in  God,  and  re- 
ceive all  from  him ;  so  I  now  find  an  habitual  disposition  of  soul  to 
rest,  in  a  measure,  satisfied  with  all  his  dispensations  towards  me. 
And,  through  grace,  believing  I  am  his ;  that  I  have  a  covenant  right 
to  that  most  gracious  Being,  who  doth  all  things  according  to  the 
counsel  of  his  own  will,  which  are  for  his  own  glory :  And  in  full 
agreement  with  this  is  the  highest  good  of  his  chosen  people  :  And 
having  a  thousand,  and  a  thousand  times  solemnly  subscribed  to  these 
terms  :  That  his  will  and  his  glory  may  have  the  governing  influence 
and  disposal  of  me,  and  all  that  relates  to  me :  I  have  esteemed  it 
my  highest' felicity  thus  to  have  myself,  and  all  my  actions  and  con- 
cerns disposed  of.  And,  now  it  is  my  joy  and  crown  of  rejoicing, 
that  it  is  and  shall  be  so,  by  the  firm  and  unalterable  decree  of  him 
who  cannot  change. 

And  this  belief  I  find  powerfully  prevailing  to  reconcile  me  to  all 
the  divine  dispensations  of  providence.     For,  when  the  glory  of  God 


MISS    SUSANNA    ANTHONY.  377 

is  my  highest  end  and  desire ;  and  I  firmly  believe  that  God,  who 
has  the  ordering  of  all  my  affairs,  has  this  in  view  ;  namely,  his  own 
glory,  well  may  I  rejoice  :  For  I  have  nothing  to  fear.  He  has  in- 
finite wisdom  to  direct,  and  almighty  power  to  effect  what  he  pleas- 
es :  And  therefore  can  never  fail  of  his  purposes.  All  his  dispensa- 
tions towards  me,  I  would  always  realize,  as  the  result  of  infinite  wis- 
dom and  eternal  counsel ;  and  therefore  most  perfect.  And,  though 
my  proud  rebellious  heart  dare  rise  up  in  opposition,  and  impiously 
call  in  question  his  ways ;  yet,  through  grace,  I  never  leave  strug- 
gling, until  the  conquest  is  gained,  and  my  soul  submits  to  the  scep- 
ter of  Jesus,  and  signs  its  former  engagements. 

And  this  conquest  is  his.  It  is  he  who  exerts  his  almighty  pow- 
er, and  subdues  my  remaining  corruptions  ;  or  I  should  never  over- 
come. All  the  glory  is  his,  forever  his  :  For,  without  him,  I  can- 
not do  any  thing.  I  still  find  such  remains  of  sin  in  this  depraved 
heart,  that  were  it  not  for  the  prevailing  intercession,  and  daily  inter- 
position of  the  great  God-Man-Mediator,  with  the  Father,  and  against 
Satan  and  my  own  wicked  heart,  I  should  despair  of  ever  gaining  the 
victory.  But,  thanks  be  to  God,  through  Jesus  Christ,  wTho  giveth 
the  victory.  And  through  him  I  hope  ere  long  to  receive  the  end 
of  my  faith,  the  salvation  of  my  soul ;  the  open  vision  and  full  frui- 
tion of  this  best  of  Beings.  When  sin  and  Satan  shall  no  more  de- 
file and  vex  my  weary  soul.  All  these  fiery  conflicts  shall  then  be 
remembered  with  endless  acclamations  to  Jesus,  my  only  almighty 
Savior.  To  him,  to  him  alone,  shall  all  the  redeemed  ascribe  the 
glory  of  their  salvation.  Thine,  O  my  eternal,  incarnate  God,  shall 
be  the  praise.  And  now,  what  wait  I  for  ?  All  my  expectations  are 
from  thee,  and  all  my  hopes  are  in  thee.  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come 
quickly.     Amen  and  Amen. 

The  following  paper  is  transcribed  and  inserted  here,  as  it  was 
written  in  her  youth,  when  she  was  but  seventeen  years  old,  and  ex- 
presses the  views  and  exercises  which  she  then  had  ;  and  affords  ad- 
monition and  instruction,  especially  to  those  young  persons  who  shall 
read  it. 

Oct.  25,  1743.  I  am  just  now  entering  into  the  eighteenth  year 
of  my  age.  And  does  the  tempter  tell  me,  that  I  chose  religion 
when  I  was  a  child,  and  knew  no  better;  when  I  knew  nothing  of 
the  pleasures  of  this  world  :  And  that  it  may  be,  when  these  enjoy- 
ments and  pleasures  appear  delightful,  I  shall  forsake  strict  and  solid 
religion,  and  run  with  the  young,  giddy  multitude,  into  the  excesses 
of  vanity  ?  Then,  O  my  soul,  sit  down  again,  and  make  another  de- 
liberate choice ;  even  now  I  am  entering  the  prime  of  all  my  days : 
And  let  me  picture  the  world  with  its  brightest  side  outmost;  and  re- 
ligion in  a  solitary  dress;  and  then  choose  my  portion.  If  my  former 
choice  has  not  been  free  and  noble  enough.;  come  now,  my  soul,  and 
make  one.  Let  there  be  nothing  in  it  mean  and  low;  but  let  it  be 
great,  noble  and  free. 

48 


378  MEMOIRS  OF 

As  to  religion  :  Can  I  sacrifice  my  name,  and  all  that  the  world 
calls  delightful,  now  in  the  prime  of  my  age ;  and  be  accounted  a 
fool  and  mad,  by  the  wise,  rich  and  polite  world  ?  Can  I  withstand 
a  thousand  temptations  to  mirth  and  pleasure ;  and  be  a  despised 
outcast  among  men  ?  Now,  if  I  conform  to  the  world,  I  shall  be  a 
pleasing  object  to  many,  and  a  delight  to  them,  who  now  despise  me. 
What  pleasure  that  the  world  can  afford  shall  be  withheld  from  me, 
if  I  once  give  myself  up  to  sensual  pleasure,  and  the  gratification  of 
my  whole  inclination  ;  allowing  myself  all  that  mirth  and  jollity,  that 
my  youthful  age  will  now  admit  of?  If  I  now  give  a  loose  to  my 
youthful  appetites,  and  satisfy  my  carnal  desires ;  what  can  then  de- 
prive me  of  pleasure,  now  I  am  free  from  pain  and  the  infirmities  of 
old  age,  which  might  give  a  disgust  to  these  pleasures.  Now  I  have 
life,  health  and  liberty.  If  I  yield  to  these  desires,  and  seek  to  sat- 
isfy them  by  a  thousand  new  and  fresh  delights ;  take  my  swing  in 
the  world ;  cast  away  sorrow,  and  indulge  self  in  ten  thousand  new 
pleasures ;  what  then  can  cross  me  ? 

And,  on  the  other  hand,  if  I  choose  strict  religion  now,  I  may  ex- 
pect reproach,  disdain  and  contempt,  from  the  world,  as  not  fit  for 
common  society,  or  scarce  to  live.  I  shall  be  accounted  a  poor, 
mean,  ignorant,  despicable  creature,  unworthy  the  notice  of  mortals  : 
And,  it  may  be,  despised  by  formal  professors,  as  being  religious 
overmuch  :  They  watching  for  my  halting,  and  rejoicing  at  my  falls. 
And  besides,  I  must  expect  many  dark  and  doubting  hours,  filled 
with  bitter  sighs  and  groans  ;  denying  myself,  and  taking  up  my 
cross ;  plucking  out  a  right  eye,  and  cutting  off  a  right  hand ;  daily 
meeting  with  crosses,  and  losses,  and  afflictions ;  and,  it  may  be, 
with  persecutions,  imprisonment  and  death,  with  the  utmost  distress. 
While  the  sensual  libertine  lives  in  pleasure,  flourishing  like  a  green 
bay  tree,  and  has  no  bands  in  his  death. 

What  a  wide  difference  is  here,  between  the  strictly  religious,  and 
the  sensual  worldling  !  Come,  then,  my  soul,  and  view  them  both 
as  far  as  death ;  and  now  make  a  solemn  and  deliberate  choice,  ei- 
ther religion,  or  carnal  pleasure.  Come,  my  soul,  and  choose  for 
Eternity. 

Sovl.  Upon  considering  the  nature  and  properties  of  each,  I  am 
brought  to  a  free  and  full  choice.  I  see  nothing  in  this  pleasure  that 
can  satisfy  an  immortal  soul ;  nothing  worthy  my  notice  ;  nothing  but 
an  empty  sound.  Nor  can  it  have  any  part  in  my  affections,  for  a 
portion.  They  are  but  mean  trifles,  unfit  to  attract  and  busy  an  im- 
mortal soul.  But  religion,  though  it  have  its  troubles  with  it ;  yet  it 
hath  a  sacred  sweetness  in  all.  I  feel  an  inward  pleasure  and  satis- 
faction, which  gives  a  relish,  as  it  were,  to  this  kind  of  religious  pain 
and  sorrow. 

Objector.  Come,  Soul,  lay  aside  prejudice.  What !  Nothing  in  all 
this  pleasure,  to  delight  thee.  Search  a  little  deeper.  Or  what  can 
be  in  this  melancholy  religion,  to  allure  thee  to  choose  its  ways  ? 


MISS    SUSANNA    ANTHONY.  379 

Soul.  I  have  found  what  it  is.  For  in  all  those  pleasures,  the  soul 
has  no  God,  and  no  happiness,  suited  to  its  immortal  nature  ;  without 
which,  all  is  but  a  sickening  trifle.  Wherefore,  the  soul  which  hath 
God  for  its  portion,  attended  with  ever  so  much  sorrow,  is  unspeaka- 
bly more  happy. 

Objector.  But  if  you  indulge  yourself  in  pleasures,  and  strive  to  di- 
vert your  company  with  mirth  and  jollity,  you  will  gain  the  esteem  of 
many,  aud  they  will  greatly  prize  you,  and  seek  your  company. 

Soul.  I  value  the  approbation  of  the  most  high  God,  before  all  the 
esteem  of  poor  mortals ;  and  deliberately  make  choice  of  him,  and 
his  way  of  strict  religion,  for  my  portion,  pleasure  and  happiness. 

I  do  now,  with  my  whole  soul  and  all  my  powers,  choose  God  for 
my  portion ;  taking  his  cross  as  well  as  his  crown ;  esteeming  the 
sorrows  of  religion  greater  riches  than  the  pleasures  of  sin  ;  looking 
on  it  a  pleasure  to  be  crucified  with  Christ.  I  despise  every  world- 
ly enjoyment,  compared  with  one  smile  from  the  lovely  Jesus.  I  do, 
with  my  whole  heart  and  soul,  choose  God  and  religion,  though  it 
may  be  through  a  sea  of  sorrow  and  distress,  rather  than  the  world 
in  all  its  pomp  and  splendor,  with  ten  thousand  enjoyments.  O  most 
great  and  glorious  God,  I  now  choose  thee  as  my  sufficient,  and  eve- 
ry way  suitable  portion.  I  solemnly  take  God,  the  Father,  Son,  and 
Holy  Ghost,  for  my  all,  in  life,  death  and  eternity  ;  and  resign  myself, 
soul  and  body,  into  thy  hands.  And  I  take  all  the  holy  angels  in 
heaven  ;  and  even  the  Most  High  God,  the  possessor  of  heaven  and 
earth,  himself,  to  witness  that  I  do. 

And  now,  Lord,  I  am  thine.  Do  with  me  as  thou  wilt.  I  am 
thy  clay,  feeble,  helpless,  and  hopeless.  1  throw  myself,  soul  and 
body,  life  and  health,  liberty  and  pleasure,  on  thee,  the  boundless, 
infinite  fullness  of  heaven,  the  immutable  God.  Lord,  God,  Fa- 
ther, Son  and  Holy  Ghost,  I  this  day  and  minute  subscribe  with  my 
heart  and  hand,  to  be  the  Lord's.  Even  so,  Lord  Jesus,  Amen  and 
Amen.  Susanna  Anthony. 

Now  I  have  again  made  my  choice.  A  choice  which,  I  trust,  I 
shall  stand  by  throughout  eternity.  And  amidst  ten  thousand  flat- 
tering temptations,  I  refuse  them  all,  and  esteem  it  greater  pleasure, 
to  mourn  for  sin,  and  mortify  one  lust,  than  to  indulge  a  thousand. 
I  now  despise  all  youthful  vanities,  and  sensual  gratifications ;  and 
choose  a  life  of  self-denial,  resolving  henceforth  to  take  up  my  whole 
and  entire  delight  and  happiness  in  God,  in  the  way  of  holiness;  at 
whose  right  hand  are  rivers  of  pleasure,  and  that  forevermore. 

And  now,  let  me  consider  those  objections  against  religion.  What 
is  that  applause,  which  a  carnal  world  can  give  ?  Nothing  but  what 
is  too  mean  to  influence  and  actuate  a  truly  noble  mind.  Mortal 
flatteries  die  with  mortal  worms ;  and  cannot  live  beyond  this  dung- 
hill earth.  Besides,  Truth  hath  said,  "  The  friendship  of  the  world 
is  enmity  with  God."     And  it  cannot  be  set  in  competition  with  the 


380  MEMOIRS  OF 

approbation  and  favor  of  Jehovah,  the  great  eternal  Sovereign  of 
heaven  and  earth.  And,  should  I  indulge  my  carnal  desires,  what 
peace  and  joy  would  a  tormenting  conscience  afford,  amidst  these 
vanities  ?  How  often  have  I  seen  such  persons,  as  soon  as  they  had 
a  moment  to  reflect,  ready  to  run  wild ;  nor  dare  long  to  reflect. 
Surely  their  pains  have  been  more  than  their  pleasures.  But,  sup- 
pose I  could  still  the  perpetual  sting  of  conscience ;  are  all  those  van- 
ities commensurate  to  the  desires  of  an  immortal  soul  ?  Can  I  have 
such  mean,  such  sordid,  base,  vile  thoughts  of  that  immortal  spirit, 
with  which  the  great  almighty  Creator  hath  invested  me,  as  to  think 
such  mean  trifles  can  suffice  a  never  dying  soul,  which  must  exist, 
as  long  as  God  himself?  Surely  there  is  nothing  but  an  infinite  good 
that  can  satisfy  its  boundless  cravings.  It  is  horrid  barbarity  to  feed 
it  on  such  insipid  husks,  since  it  is  capable  of  immortal  boundless  de- 
lights in  God. 

And  what  are  these  mighty  frights  in  a  life  of  religion,  which 
should  affright  a  truly  great  and  immortal  soul,  since  the  joys  only 
are  real,  lasting  and  perpetual  ?  Who  shall  dare  to  inscribe  Eternal 
on  any  of  the  sorrows  of  a  religious  life  ?  What  is  any  sorrow,  re- 
proach or  disdain,  that  admits  of  God  to  be  the  portion  of  the  soul  ? 
What  if  I  be  despised  as  poor,  mean  and  ignorant,  not  fit  for  society, 
if  Christ  be  mine  ?  He  is  rich,  great,  full  of  wisdom  and  knowl- 
edge ;  and  in  him  I  may  be  complete,  who  is  the  head  of  influ- 
ence. And  what  greater  honor  can  a  mortal  have,  than  to  be  a  child 
of  the  King  of  kings  and  Lord  of  lords.  God  shall  honor  the  soul 
with  his  presence.  He  will  condescend  to  reside  and  dwell  in  the 
gracious  soul :  A  guest  infinitely  preferable,  as  his  nature  is  trans- 
cendent. 

And  as  to  dark  and  doubting  hours,  some  of  these  may  proceed 
from  my  own  sin  and  folly.  But,  as  far  as  they  are  sent  from  God, 
they  shall  only  prepare  me  for  immortal  joys,  and  make  heaven  the 
sweeter  when  I  arrive  there.  These  shall  make  my  soul  shine  bright- 
er, and  add  new  lustre  to  my  glory.  These  shall  all  be  remember- 
ed with  joy,  and  every  tear  be  put  into  a  bottle,  and  add  to  my  crown 
of  joy  and  triumph. 

As  to  denying  myself,  and  taking  up  my  cross  ;  when  it  is  to  fol- 
low Jesus,  it  should  be  most  pleasant :  For  his  yoke  is  most  easy, 
and  his  burden  is  light  to  the  soul  that  truly  loves  him.  And  will 
not  such  a  soul  most  freely  and  cheerfully  pluck  out,  tear  off,  and 
crucify  that  which  has  wounded  his  Lord  ?  I  should  count  nothing 
too  dear  to  part  with,  for  my  Jesus,  since  he  hath  not  for  me.  What- 
ever I  do  out  of  love,  is  sweet :  and  he  rewards  it  a  thousand  fold 
with  the  consolation  of  his  blessed  Spirit. 

In  fine,  as  to  all  crosses,  and  losses,  and  afflictions ;  whatever  I 
lose  for  Jesus,  is  gain.  If  I  meet  with  crosses,  I  know  they  come 
from  a  compassionate  God  :  and  so  will  surely  be  for  the  best :  And 
he  cannot  wrong  me.     If  I  give  myself  to  him,  he  has  bound  himself  to 


MISS    SUSANNA    ANTHONY.  381 

be  my  God ;  which  implies  in  it  the  utmost  blessedness  :  And  had 
he  not  bound  himself,  1  trust  his  love  would  do  it.  The  loss  of  all 
things,  even  life  itself,  shall  be  a  happy  gain,  when  the  soul  finds  God. 
Let  afflictions,  persecutions,  imprisonment,  and  even  death  come,  if 
Jesus  stand  by,  and  strengthen,  I  am  not  afraid  I  shall  suffer  too  much 
by  or  for  him.  All  my  care  is,  that  he  may  strengthen  me  to  endure 
the  last  extremity :  For  without  him,  I  know  the  flesh  will  shrink 
back,  and  I  shall  indulge  that  carnal  principle  of  ease.  But  God 
hath  said,  As  thy  days,  so  shall  thy  strength  be ;  and,  My  grace  is 
sufficient  for  thee.  How  sweet  is  it  for  the  soul  not  to  count  the  life 
dear,  and  to  resist  unto  death  for  Jesus  and  his  truth  !  O,  what  a 
truly  noble  soul  does  it  discover  in  a  christian,  to  wage  war  with  hell, 
earth  and  his  own  heart ;  and  fight  against  all,  rather  than  be  over- 
come by  them,  and  made  a  slave  to  his  base,  sordid  lusts! 

After  she  had  made  a  public  profession  of  religion,  she  felt  a  strong 
desire  to  serve  Christ,  in  an  entire  and  constant  devotedness  to  him, 
in  promoting  his  interest  and  kingdom,  the  good  of  his  people,  and 
the  salvation  of  men.  This  led  her  seriously  to  consider  in  what  way, 
and  by  what  means,  she,  in  her  situation,  and  circumstances,  could 
best  answer  these  ends.  She  was  a  poor,  obscure  person,  and  had 
no  prospect  of  obtaining  much  of  the  things  of  this  world,  so  as  to 
do  much  good  by  supporting  the  gospel  or  distributing  to  the  relief  of 
the  indigent.  She  did  not  expect  to  rise  into  general  repute,  or  to 
any  public  station,  by  which  she  could  have  opportunity  of  exten- 
sive influence  ;  and  her  natural  capacity  she  considered  as  small,  and 
she  was  destitute  of  the  advantages  of  education,  which  many  had. 

After  a  careful  and  conscientious  attention  to  this  subject,  and 
much  earnest  prayer  for  direction,  daily  crying  to  God,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  Saul,  when  he  was  converted,  "Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have 
me  to  do  ?"  she  was  led  to  conclude  that  she  could  serve  the  inter- 
est of  Christ,  and  of  his  church,  and  promote  the  good  of  her  fellow 
men,  more,  by  devoting  herself  to  prayer,  than  in  any  other  way,  of 
which  she  was  capable.  And  as,  in  her  circumstances,  she  was  in 
a  great  measure  free  from  domestic  cares,  and  had  opportunity  to 
spend  much  time  in  retirement,  she  thought  it  was  her  duty  to  devote 
as  much  time  as  could  be  spared  from  her  particular  employment, 
and  necessary  avocations,  in  prayer,  not  only  for  herself,  and  all  her 
particular  friends  and  near  connexions ;  but  more  especially  for  the 
prosperity  of  the  church  of  Christ,  and  the  advancement  of  his  king- 
dom in  the  world,  until  all  nations,  Jews  and  Gentiles,  should  be  con- 
verted and  brought  into  it ;  in  which,  prayer  for  the  ministers  of  the 
gospel  was  included,  that  they  might  be  filled  with  the  spirit  of  Christ, 
and  abundantly  assisted  and  succeeded ;  and  that  the  head  of  the 
church,  and  Lord  of  the  harvest,  would  raise  up  and  send  forth  faith- 
ful laborers  into  his  harvest,  he. 

For  this  exercise  she  frequently  set  apart  whole  days,  when  her 
circumstances  would  admit  of  it,  and  especially  when  there  appear- 


382  MEMOIRS    OF 

ed  to  her  to  be  a  particular  call  for  prayer :  and  spent  them  in  secret 
fasting  and  prayer.  And  she  used  to  spend  the  afternoon  and  eve- 
ning of  the  last  day  of  the  week  in  this  exercise,  when  not  prevented 
by  some  uncommon  circumstance  ;  also  the  morning  of  the  Sabbath. 

Before  she  was  sixteen  years  old,  she  joined  a  society  of  women, 
who  met  once  every  week,  for  prayer,  reading,  and  religious  conver- 
sation ;  and  who  devoted  the  afternoon,  once  in  a  month,  to  this  ex- 
ercise ;  and  spent,  at  least,  four  whole  days  in  a  year,  in  fasting  and 
prayer  together.*  Of  this  society  she  was  a  distinguished  member, 
as  long  as  she  lived ;  by  whom  she  was  greatly  beloved  and  esteem- 
ed ;  and  they  received  much  comfort  and  edification  from  her  con- 
versation and  prayers.  In  the  latter,  especially,  she  was  distinguish- 
edly  eminent;  and,  at  particular  times,  had  such  enlargement  and 
access  to  the  throne  of  grace,  that  she  would  pray  an  hour  and  a 
half,  or  more,  with  such  engagedness  and  fervency,  without  any  rep- 
etition, with  a  flow  of  words  expressing  the  most  pertinent  and  affect- 
ing ideas,  and  with  such  a  natural  connexion,  and  progression  from 
one  to  another,  that  none  who  joined  with  her  would  appear  to  be 
tired,  but  all  pleased,  affected  and  edified  :  and  felt  a  consciousness 
that  none  could  have  an  adequate  idea  of  what  passed  at  such  times, 
who  were  not  present,  as  a  full  description  of  the  holy  fervor,  the 
clear  view  of  invisible  things,  and  that  nearness  to  God,  while  she 
poured  out  her  heart  before  him,  which  she  discovered,  cannot  be 
made  by  any  narration  of  them. 

She  appeared  wholly,  and  in*  a  distinguished  degree,  devoted  to 
the  cause  of  Christ  and  pure  religion ;  and  was  a  remarkable  exam- 
ple of  devotion,  benevolence,  and  christian  friendship;  of  self-denial, 
sobriety,  modesty,  humility,  industry,  and  of  a  careful  circumspection 
and  conscientiousness  in  all  her  concerns  and  conduct.  She  being 
greatly  attentive  to  her  Bible,  and  all  other  means  of  instruction 
which  she  enjoyed,  attained  an  eminent  degree  of  discerning  and 
knowledge  of  the  distinguishing  doctrines  and  duties  of  Christianity. 
And,  as  she  was  greatly  attentive  to  practical  religion,  and  constantly 
studied  the  Bible  in  this  view,  always  exercising  herself  to  have  a 
conscience  void  of  offense,  both  towards  God  and  man,  she  was  re- 
markably judicious  as  a  casuist,  and  greatly  helpful  to  her  friends,  who 
applied  to  her  in  doubtful  and  difficult  cases  of  conscience.  All  this 
has  been  already  very  particularly  exhibited  by  the  extracts  from  her 
writings,  which  have  been  produced  in  the  preceding  sections:  but 
cannot,  even  in  this  way,  be  fully  expressed,  or  set  in  that  clear,  af- 
fecting, and  amiable  light,  before  the  public,  in  which  she  was  seen, 
loved,  and  admired,  by  her  particular  and  intimate  friends. 

Her  bodily  frame  and  constitution  were  so  feeble  and  delicate,  from 
her  youth,  that  she  was  not  equal  to  any  business,  which  required  a 

*  This  is  the  same  society  mentioned  in  the  preceding  memoir,  as  having  been 
founded  by  Mrs.  Osborn,  and  her  friends, 


MISS  SUSANNA  ANTHONY.  383 

considerable  degree  of  strength  and  exertion.  She  was,  therefore, 
chiefly  employed  in  the  use  of  her  needle,  in  which  she  was  expert 
and  skilful,  and  by  which  she  was  able  to  support  herself,  when  she 
enjoyed  her  health,  of  which  she  was  deprived  for  a  number  of  years, 
from  about  the  twentieth  year  of  her  age,  and  fell  into  very  painful 
and  distressing  disorders  of  body ;  so  that  she  appeared  to  herself  and 
others,  many  times,  to  be  dying,  or  near  to  death ;  and  her  physician 
and  friends  thought  she  could  not  survive  her  disorders,  which  at- 
tended her  several  years,  excepting  some  short  intervals  of  respite. 
But  she  was,  in  a  great  measure,  relieved  from  these  distressing  dis- 
orders, and  enjoyed  a  degree  of  ease  and  health  in  the  latter  part  of 
her  life  ;  though  she  was  always  feeble,  and  subject  to  turns  of  painful 
maladies. 

When  the  war,  between  Britain  and  America,  commenced,  she 
left  Newport,  and  went  into  the  country,  where  she  spent  a  great  part 
of  her  time,  until  that  war  was  nearly  closed  ;  part  of  which  time  she 
spent  in  teaching  the  children  in  the  families  in  which  she  lived,  and 
in  keeping  a  small  school;  in  which  she  appeared  to  be  greatly  ser- 
viceable, and  obtained  the  approbation,  gratitude,  and  esteem,  of  those 
who  employed  her. 

After  the  war,  she  lived  at  Newport  to  the  time  of  her  decease,  a 
comfort,  and  greatly  useful  to  her  friends,  earnestly  endeavoring,  in 
her  sphere,  to  promote  the  cause  of  truth  and  Christianity  in  the 
world,  and  more  especially  in  the  religious  society  with  which  she 
was  connected  ;  by  whom  her  death  was  justly  considered  as  an  un- 
speakable loss.  But,  with  respect  to  the  people  in  general,  the  words 
of  the  prophet  may  be  applied,  in  this  instance  :  "  The  righteous 
perisheth,  and  no  man  layeth  it  to  heart ;  the  merciful  are  taken 
away,  none  considering  that  the  righteous  is  taken  away  from  the  evil 
to  come." 

In  the  month  of  June,  1791,  her  youngest  sister  was  taken  sick 
with  a  peripneumony  ;  and  as  she  had  but  one  more  sister  then  living, 
who  was  out  of  town,  she  went  and  attended  her  in  her  sickness* 
which  proved  mortal,  and  she  died  in  about  a  week.  On  the  day  in 
which  her  sister  died,  she  was  seized  with  the  same  disorder,  which 
put  an  end  to  her  life  also  in  one  week.  The  disorder,  with  which 
she  died,  was  violent  from  first  to  last,  and  uncommonly  distressing; 
so  that  she  was  not  able  to  say  much  in  this  her  last  sickness.  She, 
however,  said  to  her  christian  friends,  that  she  desired  to  bless  God, 
that  she  had  nothing  of  those  conflicts,  which  she  had  before  some- 
time feared  ;  but  her  soul  did,  with  a  sweet  calm  and  confidence,  rest 
on  Jesus  Christ,  without  the  least  doubt  of  her  union  to  him,  and  of 
her  happiness  in  his  kingdom  for  ever.  Thus  she  died,  on  the  23d 
of  June,  1791.* 


From  the  Life  of  Miss  Anthony,  by  Dr.  Hopkins. 


384 


MRS.  MARTHA  LAURENS  RAMSAY. 


Martha  Laurens  Ramsay  was  bora  in  Charleston,  S.  C.  on  the 
3d  of  November,  1759.  She  was  the  daughter  of  Henry  Laurens 
and  of  Eleanor  Ball,  and  born  in  the  ninth  year  after  their  marriage. 
By  the  father's  side,  she  was  of  French  extraction.  Her  great 
grand  parents  were  born  in  Rochelle,  and  suffered  in  the  famous 
siege  of  that  place.  They  were  Huguenots  or  Protestants.  Being, 
by  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantz,  compelled  to  leave  their 
native  country,  they  came  to  America  in  the  latter  end  of  the  17th 
century.  Her  maternal  ancestors  migrated  from  Devonshire,  in 
England,  and  settled  in  South  Carolina  about  the  same  time. 

In  the  first  year  of  her  life,  she  had  the  small  pox  so  severely 
that  she  was  supposed  to  be  dead,  and  as  such  was  actually  laid  out 
preparatory  to  her  funeral.  This  was  done  under  an  open  window, 
instead  of  the  close  room  in  which  she  had  been  kept,  according  to 
the  absurd  mode  of  treating  the  small  pox  in  1760.  Dr.  Moultrie, 
coming  in  at  this  crisis,  pronounced  her  to  be  still  alive,  probably  re- 
called to  life  by  the  fresh  air  of  the  open  window.  Under  other 
circumstances  she  would  shortly  have  been  buried,  as  was  then 
commonly  done,  with  persons  who  died  of  the  small  pox  in  that 
year  of  extensive  mortality.  A  valuable  life  was  thus  providentially 
saved  for  future  usefulness. 

Martha  Laurens  early  discovered  a  great  capacity  and  eagerness 
for  learning.  In  the  course  of  her  third  year  she  could  readily  read 
any  book,  and,  what  is  extraordinary,  in  an  inverted  position,  with- 
out any  difficulty.  In  youth  her  vivacity  and  spirits  were  exuberant. 
Feats  of  activity,  though  attended  with  personal  danger,  were  to  her 
familiar;  great  exertions  of  bodily  labor;  romantic  projects;  ex- 
cesses of  the  wildest  play  were  preferred  to  stagnant  life ;  but  from 
all  these  she  could  be  turned  off  in  a  moment  to  serious  business. 
As  she  grew  up,  the  same  activity  was  exerted  in  acquiring  the  use- 
ful and  ornamental  parts  of  female  education.  She  very  soon  ac- 
quired a  grammatical  knowledge  of  the  French  language ;  a  con- 
siderable eminence  in  reading,  writing,  arithmetic,  English  grammar, 
geography,  the  use  of  the  globes.  She  even  acquired  a  considera- 
ble acquaintance  with  geometry  and  mathematical  science.  At  the 
same  time,  she  was  indefatigable  in  cultivating  an  acquaintance  with 
books ;  and,  by  means  of  abridging,  transcribing,  and  committing  to 
memory,  was  very  successful  in  retaining  much  of  what  she  read. 
In  accomplishments  and  the  ornamental  parts  of  education,  she  ex- 
celled, and  in  the  exercise  of  them  took  great  delight. 


memoirs,  he.  385 

In  the  eleventh  year  of  her  age,  she  sustained  an  immense  loss 
by  the  death  of  her  excellent  mother ;  but  this  was  in  some  meas- 
ure made  up  by  the  maternal  care  of  her  good  aunt,  Mary  Laurens, 
the  wife  of  James  Laurens,  whose  sound  judgment,  refined  manners, 
and,  eminent  piety,  well  fitted  her  for  training  up  her  orphan  niece 
for  both  worlds.  To  her  care,  and  to  that  of  his  brother,  Henry 
Laurens  committed  the  charge  of  his  two  daughters,  while  he  went 
to  superintend  the  education  of  his  sons  in  Europe.  There  he  con- 
tinued till  the  end  of  the  year  1774,  when  love  for  his  country 
brought  him  back  to  its  defence  against  the  aggressions  of  Britain. 
Thus,  while  Providence  deprived  Miss  Laurens  of  the  instructions 
and  example  of  her  natural  mother,  it  raised  up  another  friend,  who 
performed  the  maternal  duties,  with  equal  capacity,  fidelity,  and  af- 
fection. Though  she  was  deprived  of  the  company  of  her  wise  and 
virtuous  father,  for  almost  the  whole  of  that  interesting  period,  which 
extended  from  the  eleventh  to  the  twenty  second  year  of  her  age, 
she  continued  to  receive  letters  from  him.  From  1771  till  1775  his 
paternal  instructions,  communicated  by  letter,  were  calculated  to  for- 
ward the  virtuous  education  of  a  beloved  daughter,  growing  up  with 
fair  prospects  of  an  ample  fortune  ;  but  in  and  after  1775  he  warned 
her  of  the  probability  that  his  estate  would  be  forfeited,  and  that  her 
father  and  brother  in  arms  would  lose  their  lives,  and  that  she  must 
prepare  to  maintain  herself  by  her  own  exertions.  These  anticipa- 
tions were  not  fully  realized ;  but  the  expectation  of  them  had  a  di- 
rect tendency  to  assist  in  forming  the  solid  education  of  the  person 
to  whom  they  were  addressed. 

Miss  Laurens,  in  her  twelfth  year,  began  to  be  the  subject  of  se- 
rious religious  impressions.  She  was  well  instructed  in  the  great 
gospel  mystery  of  salvation  by  the  atoning  sacrifice  of  Jesus  Christ 
for  the  sins  of  the  world.  And  there  is  good  reason  to  believe,  that 
at  a  very  early  period  she  was  brought,  by  the  grace  of  God,  cor- 
dially to  accept  of  salvation  freely  offered,  though  dearly  purchased. 

In  the  fifteenth  year  of  her  age,  in  conformity  to  the  advice  of 
Dr.  Doddridge,  and  in  a  form  of  words  recommended  by  him,  she 
prepared,  and  solemnly  executed  an  instrument  of  writing,  called  by 
her,  with  great  propriety,  "A  self  dedication  and  solemn  covenant 
with  God."  In  this,  after  a  suitable  introduction,  "  she  presents  be- 
fore her  Maker  the  whole  frame  of  her  nature,  all  the  faculties  of 
her  mind,  and  all  the  members  of  her  body,  as  a  living  sacrifice 
holy  and  acceptable  unto  God."  And  "not  only  consecrates  all  that 
she  was,  and  all  that  she  had  to  his  service,  but  humbly  resigns  to 
his  heavenly  will  all  that  she  called  hers,  to  be  disposed  of  as  he 
pleased."  In  the  Old  Testament,  we  several  times  read  of  the  ru- 
lers, priests,  and  people  among  the  Jews  solemnly  covenanting  be- 
fore God,  to  renounce  their  transgressions  and  to  adhere  to  his  ser- 
vice. In  the  ninth  and  tenth  chapters  of  Nehemiah  there  is  a  par- 
ticular account  of  a  covenant  to  this  effect,  drawn  up  in  writing,  and 

49 


386  MEMOTRS  OF 

ratified  by  the  names  and  seals  of  the  persons  who  consented  to  it. 
Whether,  in  addition  to  these  examples  from  holy  writ,  and  the  re- 
commendation of  Dr.  Doddridge,  there  were  any  particular  circum- 
stances, which,  at  that  time,  induced  Miss  Laurens  to  enter  into  this 
written  engagement  to  be  the  Lord's,  is  unknown.  It  is  behaved 
that  she  kept  the  transaction  secret  from  all  the  world,  and  that  the 
paper  in  question  was  never  seen  by  any  human  being  before  her 
death,  thirty  seven  years  afterwards.  At  the  time  of  its  execution, 
she  was  exactly  fourteen  years  and  seven  weeks  old,  was  in  possession 
of  all  the  comforts  of  life,  and  had  as  brilliant  prospects  before  her 
as  any  of  her  sex  in  Carolina.  The  only  serious  affliction  she  had 
then  met  with  was  the  loss  of  her  mother.  This  had  taken  place 
three  years  and  seven  months  before,  and  the  keen  sensations  occa- 
sioned thereby  must,  in  the  ordinary  course  of  things,  have  been 
nearly  worn  off  by  time.  The  engagements  thus  solemnly  entered 
into  by  Miss  Laurens  were  in  unison  with  her  subsequent  conduct 
through  life.  Of  the  sincerity  of  the  transaction,  on  her  part,  on  a 
view  of  all  its  circumstances,  no  doubt  can  exist. 

In  the  year  1775,  James  Laurens,  his  wife  and  two  nieces,  Martha 
Laurens,  and  Mary  Eleanor  Laurens,  afterward  the  wife  of  Charles 
Pinckney,  went  to  England.  Martha  Laurens  was  received  on  her 
landing  by  her  elder  brother,  John  Laurens,  from  whom  she  had 
been  for  some  years  separated.  Being  older,  he  had  taken  great 
delight  in  forwarding  her  education,  and  particularly,  in  forming  her 
mind  to  be  superior  to  the  common  accidents  of  life,  and  the  ground- 
less fears  of  some  of  her  sex.  To  ascertain  whether  his  labors  had 
been  successful  or  not,  he  bribed  the  postillion  to  drive  very  rapidly, 
and  at  the  same  time,  without  discovering  his  views,  narrowly  watch- 
ed her  countenance,  to  observe  whether  there  were  any  changes  in 
it  expressive  of  womanish  fears,  at  the  novel  scene,  so  totally  differ- 
ent from  all  her  former  travelling  in  the  low,  flat,  stoneless  country  of 
Carolina.  On  the  termination  of  the  experiment,  to  his  satisfaction, 
he  announced  to  his  unsuspecting  sister  his  congratulations,  that  "he 
had  found  her  the  same  Spartan  girl  he  had  left  her." 

During  the  first  years  of  the  American  Revolution,  and  for  a  short 
time  after  its  termination,  Miss  Laurens  resided  in  various  parts  of 
England,  improving  her  mind,  and  preparing  herself  for  meeting  the 
contemplated  loss  of  her  father,  brother,  and  fortune,  by  the  events 
of  the  war,  and  at  the  same  time  doing  every  office  of  love  to  her 
uncle,  who  for  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life  labored  under  a  painful 
complaint.  While  residing  in  England,  she  formed  an  acquaintance 
with  many  persons  eminent  for  their  piety,  and  particularly  with  the 
Countess  of  Huntingdon,  by  whom  she  was  very  much  noticed. 
She  highly  prized  the  company  of  such  persons,  and  from  them  re- 
ceived both  pleasure  and  improvement. 

After  the  treaty  of  France  with  Congress,  in  1778,  and  particu- 
larly the  rejection,  in  the  same  year,  of  the  offers  of  Great  Britain, 


MRS.  MARTHA  LAURENS  RAMSAY.  387 

for  a  reunion  with  her  late  colonies,  the  situation  of  the  Carolina 
Laurens  family  in  England  was  unpleasant.  Henry  Laurens  was  at 
that  time  president  of  Congress,  and  had  officially  conducted  the 
correspondence  of  that  body  with  the  British  commissioners,  which 
terminated  in  a  rejection  of  their  offers.  Miss  Laurens  was  often 
obliged  to  hear  her  native  country  abused,  and  to  read  and  hear  her 
beloved  father  calumniated  as  a  fomenter  of  the  disputes  between 
Britain  and  her  colonies,  and  as  an  aspiring,  ambitious  man,  wishing 
to  rise  to  consequence  at  every  hazard  ;  but  taught  by  his  sage  ad- 
vice, and  her  own  good  sense,  she  shunned  all  political  controversy. 
Unable  to  render  her  suffering  country  any  other  service,  she  daily 
offered  up  her  fervent  prayers  in  its  behalf. 

Mr.  James  Laurens,  his  two  nieces,  and  their  aunt,  finding  it  ex- 
pedient to  leave  England,  passed  over  to  France,  and  lived  there  till 
the  re-establishment  of  peace.  During  the  greatest  part  of  this  pe- 
riod, of  six  or  seven  years,  and  the  whole  of  the  time  of  their  resi- 
dence in  England,  they  were  almost  wholly  cut  off  from  their  usual 
means  of  support,  for  their  property  was  in  America,  three  thousand 
miles  distant.  War  raged,  and  the  Atlantic  ocean  rolled  between 
them  and  it.  In  this  forlorn  situation  they  found  ample  occasion  for 
all  the  comforts  of  the  religion  which  they  professed.  The  greatest 
economy  was  necessary.  A  residence  in  Vigan  was  preferred  on 
account  of  the  cheapness  of  living.  There  Miss  Laurens  spent  her 
time  usefully  to  her  uncle,  profitably  to  herself,  and  as  pleasantly  as 
straitened  circumstances,  anxiety  for  her  friends  and  native  country 
would  permit.  She  had  many  opportunities  of  improving  her  mind 
by  reading  and  conversation,  of  which  she  availed  herself.  She  and 
the  family  of  her  uncle  received  great  civilities  from  the  French  for 
the  same  reasons  that  occasioned  the  slights  they  received  from  the 
English.  But  nevertheless,  they  had  all  abundant  scope  for  the  ex- 
ercise of  faith,  patience,  and  trust  in  that  Being  to  whom  they  had 
committed  all  their  concerns. 

In  the  year  1780,  Miss  Laurens's  father  was  taken  prisoner  at  sea, 
and  confined  on  a  charge  of  high  treason  in  the  tower  of  London, 
and  his  life  thus  staked  on  the  success  of  the  American  Revolution. 
If  that  had  failed,  it  would  have  been  easy  to  have  convicted  him  of 
the  crime  with  which  he  was  charged,  and  not  easy  to  have  saved 
him  from  the  penalty  annexed  to  it.  The  disorder  of  her  uncle 
became  daily  worse,  and  required  unceasing  attention  by  night  and 
by  day ;  Charleston  was  taken  by  the  British  ;  Carolina  overrun  by 
their  armies ;  remittances  were  not  only  rendered  impossible,  but  the 
loss  of  the  whole  capital  extremely  probable.  The  alarms  of  her 
father,  at  the  beginning  of  the  war,  seemed  to  be  on  the  point  of  be- 
ing realized.  About  the  same  time  intelligence  was  received  that 
her  dearly  beloved  brother,  John  Laurens,  had  fallen  in  battle.  Un- 
der this  complication  of  distresses,  she  found  the  wisdom  and  com- 
fort of  having  secured  a  friend  in  her  maker,  bv  a  solemn  covenant 


388  MEMOIRS    OF 

entered  into  with  him  in  the  morning  of  life,  in  the  full  enjoyment  of 
health,  and  in  the  fair  prospect  of  every  worldly  blessing.  From  this 
source  she  drew  much  consolation,  and  bore  up  under  every  trial, 
trusting  in  him,  to  whom  she  had,  in  a  most  solemn  manner,  conse- 
crated herself.  In  due  time  the  clouds  of  adversity  began  to  disperse ; 
the  prospects  of  America  brightened.  Her  father  was  discharged 
from  confinement,  and  after  a  separation  of  seven  years,  she  joined 
him  in  Paris,  and  presided  over  his  domestic  concerns,  while  he  as- 
sisted in  the  negociations  which  terminated  in  peace  and  the  acknowl- 
edged independence  of  the  United  States.  The  transition  from  the 
nurse's  chamber,  in  a  remote  country  place,  to  the  head  of  the  table 
of  a  minister  plenipotentiary  in  the  metropolis  of  France,  was  great 
and  sudden.  Amidst  the  gayeties  of  Paris,  in  which  she  occasionally 
indulged,  her  Bible  was  her  companion  and  counsellor.  She  read  it 
by  day  and  meditated  on  it  by  night.  It  had  taught  her  to  bear  ad- 
versity with  patience,  resignation  and  fortitude ;  and  now  kept  her 
from  the  intoxication  and  follies  which  are  too  apt  to  grow  out  of 
prosperity. 

The  restoration  of  peace  to  Carolina  in  1783,  pointed  out  the 
propriety  of  the  return  of  the  inhabitants.  Miss  Laurens,  with  her 
aunt  and  sister,  arrived  in  Charleston  in  1785,  after  a  long  absence, 
comprehending  something  more  than  the  whole  period  of  the  Ameri- 
can revolution.  Their  joy  on  finding  their  native  country  at  peace, 
and  raised  from  the  humble  rank  of  a  dependent  colony  to  that  of 
an  independent  state,  was  inexpressible.  Now,  for  the  first  time, 
after  leading  an  unsettled  life  for  ten  years,  they  found  themselves  at 
home.  On  the  23d  of  January,  1787,  Miss  Laurens  was  married 
to  Dr.  David  Ramsay,  and  in  the  course  of  the  ensuing  sixteen  years, 
became  the  mother  of  eleven  children.  Of  these  eight  survived. 
Mrs.  Ramsay  now  displayed  the  same  virtuous  habits,  and  the  same 
energy  of  character,  in  taking  care  of  her  children,  in  promoting  her 
husband's  happiness,  and  making  a  well  ordered  home  his  chief  de- 
light, that  had  formerly  distinguished  Miss  Laurens  in  acquiring  use- 
ful knowledge,  and  discharging  the  duties  of  a  daughter,  a  sister,  and 
a  niece.  Soon  after  she  became  a  mother,  she  studied  with  deep 
Interest  most  of  the  esteemed  practical  treatises  on  education,  both  in 
French  and  English,  that  she  might  be  better  informed  of  the  nature 
and  extent  of  her  new  duties.  She  gave  a  decided  preference  to 
the  writings  of  Mr.  Locke  and  Dr.  Witherspoon  on  that  subject. 
The  object  she  proposed  to  herself  was  to  obtain  for  her  children, 
health  of  body  and  a  well  regulated  mind.  To  secure  the  former, 
they  were  from  their  birth  daily  washed  in  cold  water,  and  through- 
out the  whole  period  of  infancy,  permitted  to  expose  themselves 
with  uncovered  feet,  to  wet  and  cold,  and  all  the  varieties  and  sud- 
den changes  of  Carolina  weather.  To  favor  the  latter,  they  were 
taught  to  curb  their  tempers;  to  subject  their  passions  to  the  su- 
preme dominion  of  reason  and  religion ;  to  practise  self  denial ;  to 


MRS.  MARTHA  LAURENS  RAMSAY.  389 

bear  disappointments ;  and  to  resist  the  importunity  of  present  pleas- 
ure or  pain,  for  the  sake  of  what  reason  pronounces  fit  to  be  done 
or  borne.  She  suckled  all  her  children  without  the  aid  of  any  wet 
nurse;  watched  over  them  by  night  and  day;  and  clung  to  them 
every  moment  of  sickness  or  pain.  They  were  the  subjects  of  her 
prayers  before  they  were  born,  and  every  subsequent  day  of  her 
life.  With  one  exception,  she  devoted  them  all  to  God  in  baptism, 
publicly  in  churfch,  at  a  time  when  private  baptisms  were  common; 
for  she  rejoiced  in  every  proper  opportunity  of  declaring  to  the  world 
her  firm  belief  of  the  christian  religion,  and  her  respect  for  all  its  in- 
stitutions. As  soon  as  they  were  capable  of  receiving  religious  in- 
struction, she  liberally  imparted  it;  and  early  taught  them  their  mis- 
erable and  corrupted  state  by  nature ;  that  they  were  born  into  a 
world  of  sin  and  misery ;  surrounded  with  temptations,  and  without 
a  possibility  of  salvation,  but  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  a  participa- 
tion in  the  benefits  procured  for  sinners,  by  the  atoning  sacrifice  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  at  the  same  time,  that  God  was  the  hearer  of 
prayer,  the  tenderest  of  fathers,  and  the  best  of  friends  to  all  who 
put  their  trust  in  him.  She  early  taught  them  to  read  their  Bibles. 
That  this  might  be  done  pleasantly,  she  connected  with  it  Mrs.  Trim- 
mer's prints  of  scripture  history;  that  it  might  be  done  with  under- 
standing, she  made  them  read,  in  connection  with  their  Bibles, 
Watts's  short  view  of  the  whole  scripture  history,  and,  as  they  ad- 
vanced to  a  proper  age,  Newton  on  the  Prophecies  ;  and  such  books 
as  connect  sacred  with  profane  history,  and  the  Old  with  the  New 
Testament ;  so  that  the  Bible,  though  written  in  periods  widely  re- 
mote from  each  other,  might  appear  to  them  a  uniform,  harmonious 
system  of  divine  truth.  Of  this  blessed  book  she  enjoined  upon 
them  daily  to  read  a  portion,  and  to  prize  it  as  the  standard  of  faith 
and  practice;  as  a  communication  from  heaven  on  eternal  concerns; 
as  the  word  of  God  pointing  out  the  only  way  to  salvation ;  as  a  let- 
ter of  love  sent  from  their  heavenly  Father  to  direct  their  wandering 
feet  to  the  paths  of  truth  and  happiness. 

As  her  children  advanced  in  years,  she  conducted  her  sons  through 
a  course  of  education  fitting  them  to  enter  college,  and  with  the  help 
of  her  tried  and  accomplished  friend,  Miss  Futerell,  she  carried  her 
daughters  at  home  through  the  several  studies  taught  in  boarding 
schools.  In  every  period  of  her  adult  age,  whether  married  or  sin- 
gle, when,  from  accidental  circumstances,  she  was  the  head  of  the 
family,  and  in  health,  she  daily  read  to  her  domestic  circle,  a  portion 
of  the  holy  scriptures,  and  prayed  with  them  ;  and  frequently  on  par- 
ticular occasions,  with  one  or  more  individuals  of  it,  and  regularly, 
every  Sunday,  with  her  young  white  and  black  family,  in  addition  to 
catechetical  instructions  given  to  both  at  the  same  time. 

Mrs.  Ramsay  was  uncommonly  economical  of  time.  She  suffer- 
ed none  of  it  to  be  wasted.  By  rising  early  she  secured  the  most 
raJuable  portion  of  it  for  devotion  and  business.     A  reasonable  part 


390  MEMOIRS  OF 

of  every  day  was  spent  in  religious  exercises.  Much  in  reading  well 
chosen  books,  and  also  in  copying  original  papers  for  her  father  and 
husband  ;  much  in  working  for  the  accommodation  of  her  family ; 
and  much  in  teaching  her  children,  and  forming  their  minds  to  virtue, 
and  knowledge,  and  often  a  considerable  part  of  it  in  writing  letters 
to  her  absent  friends.  With  a  few  exceptions  she  declined  all  visits 
during  the  day,  as  destructive  to  her  plans,  making  every  hour  turn  to 
the  best  account.  '  When  the  business  of  the  day  was  ended,  she  in- 
dulged her  social  habits.  The  number  of  books  she  read  was  as- 
tonishingly great,  and  her  memory  uncommonly  strong  in  retaining 
the  substance  of  their  contents.  She  could  recite  nearly  the  whole 
of  Young's  Night  Thoughts  without  book.  With  the  Holy  Scriptures 
she  was  intimately  acquainted,  and  could  readily  turn  to  any  text,  or 
passage,  bearing  on  the  subject  of  the  conversation.  The  Latin  and 
Greek  Classics  she  had  read  in  translations,  at  a  very  early  period.  By 
catching  from  her  brother,  by  studying  occasionally  his  Latin  gram- 
mar and  books,  and  by  the  aid  of  an  accurate  knowledge  of  the 
French  language,  and  the  general  principles  of  grammar,  as  applied 
to  the  English  and  French  languages,  she  laid  such  a  foundation,  that 
when  she  became  the  mother  of  children,  for  their  sakes  she  ran  over 
the  Latin  and  Greek  classics,  in  the  short  method  recommended  by 
Mr.  Locke,  so  as  to  make  her  a  profitable  instructor  to  them,  in  these 
languages.  With  the  same  views,  she  began,  and  prosecuted  to  a 
considerable  extent,  the  study  of  Botany.  From  the  same  versatility 
of  genius,  and  habits  of  industry,  after  she  was  married,  she  read 
with  attention,  most  of  the  practical  writers  on  medicine,  that  were 
then  usually  put  into  the  hands  of  medical  students,  and  studied  with 
particular  interest  such  of  them  as  treat  of  the  diseases  of  women 
and  children.  In  times  of  general  sickness,  when  her  husband  was 
full  of  business,  she  frequently  shortened  his  labors,  in  studying  cases 
of  peculiar  difficulty,  by  running  over  his  books,  and  finding  similar 
cases ;  and  collecting  in  one  view  for  his  inspection,  the  opinions  and 
practice  of  standard  medical  authors,  on  diseases  of  the  same  nature. 
She  was  familiar  with  most  of  the  modern  works  of  genius,  taste  and 
imagination,  written  in  the  English  and  French  language,  and  enjoy- 
ed them.  In  solid  learning  she  was  not  deficient.  Locke's  Essay 
on  the  Human  Understanding,  Watts's  Logic,  Improvement  of  the 
Mind,  Philosophical  Essays,  and  other  works  of  science,  were  the 
studies  of  her  youth.  To  these,  as  she  grew  up,  she  added  natural 
and  civil  history,  biography,  astronomy,  chronology,  voyages  and 
travels,  he.  In  divinity,  she  read  much  that  was  practical,  but  rare- 
ly looked  into  any  thing  that  was  controversial.  A  few  fundamental 
doctrines,  such  as  free  salvation  by  the  atoning  sacrifice  of  the  co-equal 
Son  of  God,  and  sanctification  by  the  Spirit,  she  considered  as  essen- 
tial, and  worth  contending  for ;  but  disputes  on  minor,  unessential 
points,  she  considered  as  injurious  to  the  peace,  harmony,  and  best 
interests  of  religion,  and  would  not  waste  her  time  in  studying  them, 


MRS.  MARTHA  LAURENS  RAMSAY,  391 

any  farther  than  making  up  her  own  opinion  on  particular  points, 
from  what  appeared  to  her  own  mind,  to  be  revealed  in  the  word  of 
God.  If  that  was  silent,  or  did  not  decide  for  or  against  any  opinion 
or  practice,  she  took  no  farther  pains  in  the  investigation. 

In  discharging  relative  duties,  Mrs.  Ramsay  was  exemplary.  As 
a  child,  she  had  a  high  opinion  of  parental  authority ;  and  to  it  she 
conceived  herself  as  owing  implicit  obedience  in  every  case  not 
plainly  inconsistent  with  her  duty  to  God.  It  was,  therefore,  a  stand- 
ing order  to  her  servants,  without  a  moment  of  delay,  and  without 
announcing  the  circumstance,  to  call  her,  not  only  from  business  but 
from  her  most  private  retirement  whenever  her  father  had  occasion 
for  her  services.  Never  was  there  a  daughter  more  devoted,  attach- 
ed and  obedient  to  her  parent  than  she  was :  and  her  conduct  flowed, 
not  from  instinct,  accident  or  example  but  from  principle.  In  the 
same  manner  she  had  determined  what  were  her  conjugal  duties. 
She  was  well  acquainted  with  the  plausible  reasonings  of  modem 
theorists,  who  contend  for  the  equality  of  the  sexes;  and  few  females 
could  support  their  claims  to  that  equality  on  better  grounds  than  she 
might  advance  ;  but  she  yielded  all  pretensions  on  this  score,  in  con- 
formity to  the  positive  declarations  of  holy  writ,  of  which  the  follow- 
ing were  full  to  the  point,  and  in  her  opinion  outweighed  whole  vol- 
umes of  human  reasoning.  "  In  sorrow  thou  shalt  bring  forth  chil- 
dren, and  thy  desire  shall  be  to  thy  husband,  and  he  shall  rule  over 
thee."  Gen.  hi,  16.  "Wives  submit  yourselves  unto  your  own  hus- 
hands  as  unto  the  Lord.  For  the  husband  is  the  head  of  the  wife, 
even  as  Christ  also  is  the  head  of  the  church  ;  and  he  is  the  Savior  of 
the  body.  Therefore  as  the  Church  is  subject  unto  Christ,  so  let  the 
wives  be  to  their  own  husbands  in  every  thing."  Eph.  v.  22,  23,  24. 
In  practice  as  well  as  theory  she  acknowledged  the  dependent,  sub- 
ordinate condition  of  her  sex;  and  considered  it  as  a  part  of  the 
curse  denounced  on  Eve,  as  being  "  the  first  in  the  transgression." 
1  Tim.  ii.  13,  14.  The  most  self  denying  duties  of  the  conjugal  re- 
lations being  thus  established  on  a  divine  founda'tion,  and  illustrated 
by  those  peculiar  doctrines  of  revelation  on  which  she  hung  all  her 
hopes,  the  other  duties  followed  by  an  easy  train  of  reasoning,  and 
were  affectionately  performed.  In  this  manner,  the  subject  of  these 
memoirs  used  her  Bible  as  a  system  of  practical  ethics,  from  which 
she  acquired  a  knowledge  of  her  true  station,  and  also  deduced  such 
excellent  rules  of  conduct  in  life,  as  might  be  expected  from  correct 
principles.  As  a  parent  who  had  brought  children  into  a  world  of 
sin  and  misery,  without  their  consent,  she  considered  herself  as 
bound,  in  common  justice,  to  do  every  thing  in  her  power  for  their 
comfort  in  passing  through  it.  She  thought  no  pains  too  great,  no 
sacrifices  too  hard,  provided  her  children  were  advanced  by  them. 
In  addition  to  her  steady  attention  to  their  education,  she  exerted 
herself  to  keep  them  constantly  in  good  humor ;  gave  them  every 
indulgence  compatible  with  their  best  interests ;  partook  with  thern 


392  MEMOIRS  OF 

in  their  sports ;  and  in  various  ways  amused  their  solitary  hours  so 
as  often  to  drop  the  mother  in  the  companion  and  friend ;  took  a 
lively  interest  in  all  their  concerns,  and  made  every  practicable  ex- 
ertion for  their  benefit.  From  the  Bible  she  was  taught,  "  Fathers, 
provoke  not  your  children  to  anger,  lest  they  be  discouraged." 
Col.  iii,  21.  On  this  text,  she  often  commented  verbally,  and  every 
day  practically.  From  it  she  drew  several  rules  of  conduct  in  her 
behavior  toward  her  children.  As  a  child,  she  was  for  implicit  obe- 
dience ;  but  as  a  mother,  was  very  moderate  in  urging  her  parental 
rights,  and  avoided,  as  far  as  consistent  with  a  strict  education,  every 
thing  which  might  "  provoke  her  children  to  anger."  Under  this 
general  head  she  considered  as  forbidden,  unnecessary  severity,  sar- 
casms, and  all  taunting,  harsh,  unkind  language ;  overbearing  con- 
duct, high-toned  claims  of  superiority;  capricious  or  whimsical  ex- 
ertions of  authority,  and  several  other  particulars,  calculated  to  irri- 
tate children  or  fill  them  with  terror.  On  the  other  hand,  she  con- 
sidered parents  as  required  by  this  precept  to  curb  their  own  tem- 
pers ;  to  bridle  their  passions ;  to  make  proper  allowances  for  indis- 
cretions and  follies  of  youth ;  and  to  behave  toward  their  offspring 
in  the  most  conciliatory  manner,  so  as  to  secure  their  love  and  affec- 
tions on  the  score  of  gratitude.  These  and  several  other  rules  of 
conduct  in  the  discharge  of  relative  duties  were  not  taken  up  at  ran- 
dom, but  derived  from  reason  and  reflection,  and  especially  from  an 
attentive  consideration  of  the  preceptive  part  of  the  word  of  God. 
Happy  would  it  be  for  society,  if  all  its  members  used  their  Bibles 
for  similar  purposes. 

Her  maxim  was,  not  to  complain  of  God,  but  to  God.  To  him 
she  went  with  all  her  burdens  and  cares,  and  sweetly  reposed  on  his 
almighty  arm.  Her  unabated  confidence  in  her  Maker;  her  uncon- 
ditional submission  and  cheerful  resignation  to  his  will,  took  away 
from  adversity  its  gloom,  and  threw  over  it  a  cheerful  light.  The 
workings  of  her  mind,  under  these  pressures,  as  recorded  in  her 
manuscripts,  prove  her  high  attainments  in  the  christian  life,  and 
were  probably  one  cause  of  them.  In  all  her  distresses,  the  burden 
of  sin  lay  heavier  on  her  mind  than  the  burden  of  outward  troubles. 
She  was  much  more  reconciled  to  death  as  closing  the  scene  of  her 
sinning,  than  that  of  her  suffering.  She  found  great  satisfaction  in 
reading  Drelincourt  on  Death,  and  Watts's  World  to  Come.  Short- 
ly before  her  last  sickness,  she  brought  to  her  husband  and  request- 
ed him  to  read  a  speech  delivered  more  than  a  hundred  years  ago  at 
the  grave  of  a  pious  person,  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Peter  Sterry,  which  is 
preserved  in  the  352d  page  of  Watts's  World  to  Come.  In  it  she 
had  underscored  the  following  sentiments,  as  expressive  of  her  feel- 
ings, with  respect  to  the  contemplated  approaching  commitment  of 
her  body  to  the  grave,  and  its  consequent  dissolution  therein. 

"  We  do  for  ourselves  and  for  this  our  dearly  beloved  in  the  Lord 
accept  of  thee,  O  grave,  and  readily  deliver  up  her  body  to  thee 


MRS.  MARTHA  LAURENS  RAMSAY.  393 

It  is  a  body  that  hath  been  weakened  and  wearied  with  long  afflic- 
tion and  anguish ;  we  freely  give  it  unto  thee  ;  receive  it,  and  let  it 
have  in  thee  a  quiet  rest  from  all  its  labors ;  for  thus  we  read  it  writ- 
ten of  thee,  '  There  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling,  and  there  the 
weary  are  at  rest.' 

"  But  we  know  thee,  O  grave,  to  be  also  a  devourer,  and  yet  we 
can  freely  deliver  up  the  body  unto  thee.  There  was  in  it  a  con- 
tracted corruptibility,  dishonor,  and  weakness;  take  them  as  thy 
proper  prey;  they  belong  to  thee,  and  we  would  not  withhold  them 
from  thee.  Freely  swallow  them  up  for  ever,  that  they  may  appear 
no  more. 

"  Yet,  know,  O  grave,  that  there  is  in  the  body,  considered  as  once 
united  to  such  a  soul,  a  divine  relation  to  the  Lord  of  life,  and  this 
thou  must  not,  thou  canst  not  dissolve  nor  destroy.  But  know,  and 
even  before  thee,  and  over  thee  be  it  spoken,  that  there  is  a  season 
hastening  wherein  we  shall  expect  it  again  from  thee  in  incorruption, 
honor,  and  power. 

"  We  now  sow  it  unto  thee  in  dishonor,  but  expect  it  again  return- 
ed from  thee  in  glory.  We  now  sow  it  unto  thee  in  weakness  ;  we 
expect  it  again  in  power.  We  now  sow  it  unto  thee  a  natural  body; 
we  look  for  it  again  from  thee  a  spiritual  body." 

The  life  of  Miss  Carter  was  one  of  the  last  books  Mrs.  Ramsay 
read ;  and  she  indulged  the  pleasing  anticipation  of  speedily  forming 
an  acquaintance  with  a  woman  of  her  fervent  piety  and  great  attain- 
ments. But  of  all  the  inhabitants  of  heaven,  she  longed  most  for  the 
acquaintance  of  Dr.  Watts,  whose  divine  songs,  most  of  which  she 
had  committed  to  memory,  had  administered  much  to  her  comfort 
by  night  and  by  day. 

From  the  first  moment  of  her  last  sickness,  she  had  a  presenti- 
ment that  she  would  not  survive  it.  This  gave  her  no  alarm.  She 
made  preparations  for,  and  arranged  the  circumstances  of  her  fu- 
neral, with  the  same  calmness  and  self  possession  she  would  have 
done  in  the  days  of  her  best  health,  when  preparing  for  a  journey  or 
voyage.  She  directed  that  her  funeral  should  be  private  ;  her  coffin 
plain  and  without  a  plate ;  that  Dr.  Hollinshead  should  perform  his 
ministerial  duties  on  the  occasion  in  her  own  house,  before  a  few  of 
her  most  particular  friends.  Her  coffin  was  accordingly  made  of 
Carolina  cedar.  After  she  had  given  these  directions,  her  disease 
seemed  to  yield  ;  but  she  insisted  that  her  feelings  convinced  her  to 
the  contrary.  She  suffered  grievous  pains  in  sundry  periods  of  her 
last  illness.  To  assist  her  in  supporting  under  them,  she  deliberate- 
ly surveyed  her  manifold  sins  as  the  procuring  cause  of  all  pain,  and 
also  took  a  distinct  view  of  the  sufferings  of  Christ,  and  then  asked 
herself,  shall  not  I  who  have  so  grievously  sinned,  quietly  submit  to 
pain,  which  I  deserve,  since  the  innocent  Jesus  suffered  so  much  for 
me  ?  On  the  last  day  but  one  of  her  life,  she  lay  for  some  consid- 
erable time  in  a  warm  bath.     While  there,  she  directed  the  following 

50 


394  memoirs,  &c. 

hymn,  from  a  collection  of  hymns  presented  to  her  by  the  Countess 
of  Huntingdon,  to  be  read  to  her. 

When  languor  and  disease  invade 

This  trembling  house  of  clay, 
'Tis  sweet  to  look  beyond  our  cage, 

And  long  to  fly  away. 

Sweet  to  look  inward  and  attend 

The  whispers  of  his  love ; 
Sweet  to  look  upward  to  the  place 

Where  Jesus  dwells  above. 

Sweet  to  look  back  and  see  my  name 

In  life's  fair  book  set  down ; 
Sweet  to  look  forward  and  behold 

Eternal  joys  my  own. 

Sweet  to  reflect  how  grace  divine 

My  sins  on  Jesus  laid ; 
Sweet  to  remember  that  his  blood 

My  debt  of  suff'ring  paid. 

Sweet  in  his  righteousness  to  stand. 

Which  saves  from  second  death  ; 
Sweet  to  experience  day  by  day, 

His  Spirit's  quick'ning  breath. 

Sweet  on  his  faithfulness  to  rest, 

Whose  love  can  never  end  ; 
Sweet  on  his  covenant  of  grace 

For  all  things  to  depend. 

Sweet  in  the  confidence  of  faith 

To  trust  his  firm  decrees ; 
Sweet  to  lie  passive  in  his  hands 

And  know  no  will  but  his. 

If  such  the  sweetness  of  the  streams. 

What  must  the  fountain  be, 
Where  saints  and  angels  draw  the  bliss 

Immediately  from  Thee. 

She  repeated  the  two  last  lines  of  every  verse  with  eyes  directed 
to  heaven,  as  expressive  of  their  coincidence  with  her  views.  She 
had  frequently,  in  the  course  of  her  sickness,  given  animated  ex- 
hortations to  her  children  and  others,  to  make  choice  of  God  for 
their  portion,  and  also  particular  directions  how  to  manage  the  family 
after  she  was  gone.  About  4  o'clock,  P.  M.  June  10th,  1811,  she 
asked  her  husband  and  children  if  they  were  willing  to  give  her  up. 
They  evaded  the  question  ;  but  she  in  direct  terms  informed  them 
that  she  had  sometimes  felt  a  repugnance  to  death  on  their  accounts, 
but  assured  them  that  God  had  now  made  her  entirely  willing  to 
give  them  all  up ;  and  in  about  an  hour  after  expired. 

From  The  Life  of  Mrs.  Ramsay  by  her  husband,  David  Ramsay,  M.  D. 


395 


MRS.  ISABELLA   GRAHAM. 


Isabella  Marshall,  (afterwards  Mrs.  Graham,)  was  born  on  the 
29th  of  July,  1742,  in  the  shire  of  Lanark,  in  Scotland.  Her  grand- 
father was  one  of  the  elders  who  quitted  the  established  church  with 
the  Rev.  Messrs.  Ralph  and  Ebenezer  Erskine.  She  was  educated 
in  the  principles  of  the  church  of  Scotland.  Her  father  and  mother 
were  both  pious :  indeed,  her  mother,  whose  maiden  name  was  Ja- 
net Hamilton,  appears,  from  her  letters,  yet  extant,  to  have  possessed 
a  mind  of  the  same  character  as  her  daughter  afterwards  exhibited. 

Isabella  was  trained  to  an  active  life,  as  well  as  favored  with  a  su- 
perior education.  Her  grandfather,  whose  dying  bed  she  had  as- 
siduously attended,  bequeathed  her  a  legacy  of  some  hundred  pounds. 
In  the  use  to  which  she  applied  this  money,  the  soundness  of  her 
judgment  thus  early  manifested  itself.  She  requested  it  might  be 
appropriated  to  the  purpose  of  giving  her  a  finished  education. 
When  ten  years  of  age,  she  was  sent  to  a  boarding  school  taught  by 
a  lady  of  distinguished  talents  and  piety.  Often  has  Mrs.  Graham 
repeated  to  her  children  the  maxims  of  Mrs.  Betty  Morehead. 
With  ardent  and  unwearied  endeavors  to  attain  mental  endowments, 
and  especially  moral  and  religious  knowledge,  she  attended  the  in- 
structions of  Mrs.  Morehead  for  seven  successive  winters.  How 
valuable  is  early  instruction  !  with  the  blessing  of  God,  it  is  proba- 
ble that  this  instructress  has  laid  the  foundation  of  the  exertions  and 
usefulness  of  her  pupil  in  after  life.  How  wise  and  how  gracious 
are  the  ways  of  the  Lord  !  Knowing  the  path  in  which  he  was  af- 
terwards to  lead  Isabella  Marshall,  her  God  was  pleased  to  provide 
her  an  education  of  a  much  higher  kind  than  was  usual  in  those 
days.  Who  would  not  trust  that  God  who  alone  can  be  the  guide 
of  our  youth  ? 

Her  father,  John  Marshall,  farmed  a  paternal  estate,  called  the 
Heads,  near  Hamilton.  This  estate  he  sold,  and  rented  the  estate 
of  Eldersley,  once  the  habitation  of  Sir  William  Wallace.  There 
Isabella  passed  her  childhod  and  her  youth.  She  had  no  precise 
recollection  of  the  period  at  which  her  heart  first  tasted  that  the 
Lord  was  gracious.  As  long  as  she  could  remember,  she  took  de- 
light in  pouring  out  her  soul  to  her  God. 

In  the  woods  of  Eldersley  she  selected  a  bush,  to  which  she  re- 
sorted in  seasons  of  devotion  ;  under  this  bush,  she  was  enabled  to 
devote  herself  to  God,  through  faith  in  her  Redeemer,  before  she 
had  attained  to  her  tenth  year.  To  this  favorite,  and  to  her  sacred 
spot,  she  would  repair,  when  exposed  to  temptation,  or  perplexed 


396  MEMOIRS  OF 

with  childish  troubles.  From  thence  she  caused  her  prayers  to  as- 
cend, and  always  found  peace  and  consolation. 

Children  cannot  at  too  early  a  period  seek  the  favor  of  the  God 
of  heaven.  How  blessed  to  be  reared  and  fed  by  his  hand,  taught 
by  his  Spirit,  and  strengthened  by  his  grace ! 

The  late  Rev.  Dr.  Witherspoon,  afterwards  President  of  Prince- 
ton College,  was  at  this  time  one  of  the  ministers  of  the  town  of 
Paisley.  Isabella  sat  under  his  ministry,  and  at  the  age  of  seven- 
teen she  was  admitted  by  him  to  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  sup- 
per. In  the  year  1765,  she  was  married  to  Dr.  John  Graham,  then 
a  practising  physician  in  Paisley,  a  gentleman  of  liberal  education, 
and  of  respectable  standing. 

About  a  year  after  their  marriage,  Dr.  Graham  was  ordered  to 
join  his  regiment,  the  Royal  Americans,  then  stationed  in  Canada. 

Before  they  sailed  for  America,  a  plan  had  been  digested  for  their 
permanent  residence  in  that  country.  Dr.  Graham  calculated  on 
disposing  of  his  commission,  and  purchasing  a  tract  of  land  on  the 
Mohawk  river,  to  which  his  father-in-law,  Mr.  Marshall,  and  his 
family,  were  to  follow  him. 

The  regiment  was  quartered  at  Montreal  for  several  months,  and 
here  Jessie,  the  eldest  daughter  of  Dr.  and  Mrs.  Graham,  was  born. 
They  afterwards  removed  to  Fort  Niagara,  on  Lake  Ontario,  and 
continued  in  garrison  there  for  four  years ;  here  Joanna  and  Isabella 
Graham  were  born.  Mrs.  Graham  always  considered  the  time  she 
passed  at  Niagara  as  the  happiest  of  her  days,  considered  in  a  tem- 
poral view.  The  officers  of  the  regiment  were  amiable  men,  and 
attached  to  each  other.  A  few  of  them  were  married,  and  their  la- 
dies were  united  in  the  ties  of  friendship.  The  society  there,  se- 
cluded from  the  world,  exempt  from  the  collision  of  individual  and 
separate  interests,  which  often  create  so  much  discord  in  large  com- 
munities ;  and  studious  to  promote  the  happiness  of  each  other,  en- 
joyed that  tranquillity  and  contentment,  which  ever  accompany  a 
disinterested  interchange  of  friendly  offices.  This  fort  being  in  a 
situation  detached  from  other  settlements,  the  garrison  were  conse- 
quently deprived  of  ordinances,  and  the  public  means  of  grace ;  the 
life  of  religion  in  the  soul  of  Mrs.  Graham  was  therefore  at  a  low 
ebb.  A  conscientious  observance  of  the  sabbath,  which  throughout 
life  she  maintained,  proved  to  her  at  Niagara  as  a  remembrance  and 
revival  of  devotional  exercises.  She  wandered,  on  those  sacred 
days,  into  the  woods  around  Niagara,  searched  her  Bible,  communed 
with  her  God,  and  herself,  and  poured  out  her  soul  in  prayer  to  her 
covenant  Lord.  Throughout  the  week,  the  attention  of  her  friends, 
her  domestic  comfort  and  employments,  and  the  amusements  pur- 
sued in  the  garrison,  she  used  to  confess,  occupied  too  much  of  her 
lime,  and  of  her  affections. 

Here  we  behold  a  little  society  enjoying  much  comfort  and  happi- 
ness in  each  other,   yet  falling  short  of  that  pre-eminent  duty,  and 


MRS.    ISABELLA    GRAHAM.  39T 

superior  blessedness  of  glorifying,  as  they  ought  to  have  done,  the 
God  of  heaven,  who  fed  them  by  his  bounty,  and  offered  them  a  full 
and  free  salvation  in  the  gospel  of  his  Son.  No  enjoyments,  nor 
possessions,  however  ample  and  acceptable,  can  crown  the  soul  with 
peace  and  true  felicity,  unless  accompanied  with  the  fear  and  favor 
of  Him,  who  can  speak'  pardon  to  the  transgressor,  and  shed  abroad 
his  love  in  the  hearts  of  his  children  :  thus  giving  an  earnest  of  spir- 
itual and  eternal  blessedness,  along  with  temporal  good. 

The  commencement  of  the  revolutionary  struggle  in  America, 
rendered  it  necessary,  in  the  estimation  of  the  British  government, 
to  order  to  another  scene  of  action,  the  sixtieth  regiment,  composed 
in  a  great  measure  of  Americans. 

Their  destination  was  the  island  of  Antigua ;  Dr.  Graham,  Mrs. 
Graham,  and  their  family,  consisting  now  of  three  infant  daughters, 
and  two  young  Indian  girls,  crossed  the  woods  from  Niagara  to  Os- 
wegatche,  and  from  thence  descended  the  Mohawk  in  batteaux  to 
Schenectady.  Here  Dr.  Graham  left  his  family,  and  went  to  New 
York  to  complete  a  negociation  he  had  entered  into  for  the  sale  of 
his  commission,  to  enable  him  to  settle,  as  he  originally  intended,  on 
a  tract  of  land  which  it  was  in  his  power  to  purchase  on  the  banks 
of  the  river  they  had  just  descended.  The  gentleman  proposing  to 
purchase  his  commission,  not  being  able  to  perfect  the  arrangement 
in  time,  Dr.  Graham  found  himself  under  the  necessity  of  proceed- 
ing to  Antigua  with  the  regiment.  Mrs.  Graham,  on  learning  this, 
hurried  down  with  her  family  to  accompany  him,  although  he  had 
left  it  optional  with  her  to  remain. 

At  New  York  they  were  treated  with  much  kindness  by  the  late 
Rev.  Dr.  John  Rodgers,  and  others,  especially  by  the  family  of 
Mr.  Vanbrugh  Livingston.  With  Mr.  Livingston's  daughter,  the 
wife  of  Major  Brown  of  the  sixtieth  regiment,  Mrs.  Graham  form- 
ed a  very  warm  friendship,  which  continued  during  the  life  of  Mrs. 
Brown. 

On  their  arrival  in  Antigua,  Mrs.  Graham  was  introduced  to  the 
families  of  two  brothers,  of  the  name  of  Gilbert,  gentlemen  of  prop- 
erty, and  great  piety.  They  were  connected  with  the  Methodists, 
and  by  their  pious  exertions  and  exemplary  lives,  with  the  blessing 
of  God,  became  instruments  of  much  good,  to  many  in  that  island. 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Graham  participated  largely  in  the  hospitality  and 
friendship  of  many  respectable  families  at  St.  Johns. 

Dr.  Graham  was  absent  in  St.  Vincents  for  some  months;  having 
accompanied,  as  surgeon,  a  military  force,  under  Major  Etherin^tcn, 
sent  thither  to  quell  an  insurrection  of  the  Caribbeans. 

On  his  return  to  Antigua,  he  found  Mrs.  Graham  almost  inconso- 
lable for  the  loss  of  her  valuable  mother,  the  tidings  of  whose  death 
had  just  reached  her.  He  roused  her  from  this  state  of  mind,  by 
saying,  that  "God  mighl  perhaps  call  her  to  a  severer  trial,  by  taking 
her  husband  also.''     The  warning  appeared  prophetic.     On  the  17th 


398  MEMOIRS  OF 

November,  1774,  he  was  seized  with  a  feverish  disorder,  which  did 
not  appear  for  the  first  three  days  to  be  alarming  in  the  estimation  of 
attending  physicians ;  yet  it  increased  afterwards  with  such  violence, 
as  to  terminate  his  mortal  existence  on  the  22d.  The  whole  course 
of  the  Doctor's  illness,  produced  a  most  interesting  scene.  He  cal- 
culated on  death ;  expressed  his  perfect  resignation ;  gave  his  testi- 
mony to  the  emptiness  of  a  world,  in  which  its  inhabitants  are  too 
much  occupied  in  pursuing  bubbles,  which  vanish  into  air ;  and  died 
in  the  hope  of  faith  in  that  divine  Redeemer,  who  is  able  to  save  to 
the  uttermost  all  that  come  unto  God  by  Him.  At  the  commence- 
ment of  her  husband's  illness,  Mrs.  Graham  entertained  no  appre- 
hensions of  danger  to  his  life.  When  hope  as  to  continuance  of 
temporal  life  was  extinguished,  her  anxiety  for  his  spiritual  and  eter^ 
oal  welfare  exercised  her  whole  soul.  When  he  breathed  his  last, 
gratitude  to  God,  and  joy  at  the  testimony  he  had  given  of  dying  in 
the  faith  of  Jesus,  afforded  a  support  to  her  mind,  which  the  painful 
feelings  of  her  heart  could  not  immediately  shake :  but  when  the 
awful  solemnities  were  over — earth  to  earth,  dust  to  dust — and  the 
spirit  gone  to  God  who  gave  it — when  all  was  still,  and  she  was  a 
widow  indeed — that  tenderness  of  soul,  and  sympathy  of  friendship, 
for  which  Mrs.  Graham  was  ever  remarkable,  were  brought  into  se- 
vere and  tumultuous  exercise.  Her  husband,  companion,  protector, 
was  gone ;  a  man  of  superior  mind,  great  taste,  warm  affection,  and 
domestic  habits.  She  was  left  with  three  daughters,  the  eldest  of 
whom  was  not  over  five  years  of  age ;  and  with  the  prospect  of 
having  another  child  in  a  few  months.  Of  temporal  property,  she 
possessed  very  little :  she  was  at  a  distance  from  her  father's  house : 
the  widow  and  the  fatherless  were  in  a  foreign  land.  The  change 
in  her  circumstances  was  as  sudden  as  it  was  great. 

She  had  now  no  sympathizing  heart,  to  receive  and  return  the 
confidence  of  unbounded  friendship  ;  and  thus,  by  reciprocal  com- 
munion, to  alleviate  the  trials  and  enrich  the  enjoyments  of  life.  All 
the  pleasing  plans,  all  the  cherished  prospects,  of  future  settlement 
in  life,  were  cut  off  in  a  moment.  Whilst  sinking  into  a  softened 
indifference  to  the  world,  in  the  contemplation  of  her  severe  loss, 
she  was,  on  the  other  hand,  roused  into  exertion  for  the  sustenance 
and  support  of  her  young  family,  whose  earthly  dependence  was 
now  necessarily  upon  her. 

Not  satisfied  with  the  custom  of  the  island,  in  burying  so  soon  af- 
ter life  is  extinct,  her  uneasiness  became  so  great,  that  her  friends 
judged  it  prudent  to  have  her  husband's  grave  opened,  to  convince 
her  that  no  symptoms  of  returning  life  bad  been  exhibited  there. 
The  fidelity  of  her  heart  was  now  as  strongly  marked  as  her  tender- 
ness. She  dressed  herself  in  the  habiliments  of  a  widow,  and  sur- 
veying herself  in  a  mirror,  determined  never  to  lay  them  aside. 
This  she  strictly  adhered  to,  and  rejected  every  overture,  afterwards 
made  to  her,  of  again  entering  into  the  married  state.     She  breathed 


MRS.    ISABELLA    GRAHAM.  399 

the  feelings  of  her  heart  in  a  little  poem,   in  which  she  dedicated 
herself  to  her  God  as  a  widow  indeed. 

On  examining  into  the  state  of  her  husband's  affairs,  she  discover- 
ed that  there  remained  not  quite  two  hundred  pounds  sterling  in  his 
agent's  hands. 

These  circumstances  afforded  an  opportunity  for  the  display  of 
the  purity  of  Mrs.  Graham's  principles,  and  her  rigid  adherence  to 
the  commandments  of  her  God  in  every  situation. 

It  was  proposed  to  her,  and  urged  with  much  argument,  to  sell 
the  two  Indian  girls,  her  late  husband's  property. 

No  considerations  of  interest,  nor  necessity,  could  prevail  upon 
her  to  make  merchandise  of  her  fellow  creatures,  the  works  of  her 
heavenly  Father's  hand ;  immortai  beings.  One  of  these  girls  ac- 
companied her  to  Scotland,  where  she  was  married ;  the  other  died 
in  Antigua,  leaving  an  affectionate  testimony  to  the  kindness  of  her 
dear  master  and  mistress. 

It  may  be  profitable  here,  to  look  at  Mrs.  Graham,  contrasted 
with  the  society  in  temporal  prosperity  around  her.  Many  persons 
then  in  Antigua,  wTere  busy  and  successful  in  the  accumulation  of 
wealth,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  thought,  tending  to  holiness,  to 
God,  and  to  heaven.  The  portion  which  they  desired  they  possess- 
ed. What  then  ?  they  are  since  gone  to  another  world.  The  mag- 
ic of  the  words,  "  my  property,"  "  an  independent  fortune,"  has 
been  dispelled ;  and  that  for  which  they  toiled,  and  in  which  they 
gloried,  has  since  passed  into  a  hundred  hands  :  the  illusion  is  vanish- 
ted,  and  unless  they  made  their  peace  with  God  through  the  blood  of 
the  cross,  they  left  this  world,  and  alas  !  found  no  heaven  before 
them.  But  amidst  apparent  affliction  and  outward  distress,  God  was 
preparing  the  heart  of  this  widow,  by  the  discipline  of  his  covenant, 
for  future  usefulness ;  to  be  a  blessing,  probably,  to  the  thousands  of 
her  race,  and  to  enter,  finally,  on  that  rest  ivhich  remaineth  for  the 
people  of  God. 

Her  temporal  support,  was  not  in  her  esteem,  "  an  independent 
fortune,"  but  a  life  of  dependence  on  the  care  of  her  heavenly  Fa- 
ther :  she  had  more  delight  in  suffering  and  doing  his  will,  than  in 
all  riches.  "  The  secret  of  the  Lord,  is  with  those  who  fear  him, 
and  he  will  show  them  his  covenant."  To  those  who  walk  with  God, 
he  will  show  the  way  in  which  they  should  go,  and  their  experience 
will  assure  them  that  he  directs  their  paths.  ':  Bread  shall  be  given 
them,  and  their  water  shall  be  sure."  She  passed  through  many  tri- 
als of  a  temporal  nature,  but  she  was  comforted  of  her  God  through 
them  all ;  and  at  last  was  put  in  possession  of  an  eternal  treasure  in 
heaven,  where  neither  moth  nor  rust  doth  corrupt,  nor  thieves  break 
through  and  steal.  May  this  contrast  be  solemnly  examined,  and 
the  example  of  this  child  of  God  made  a  blessing  to  many  ! 

Previously  to  her  confinement,  and  the  birth  of  her  son,  Mrs. 
Graham  set  her  house  in  order,  in  the  probable  expectation  of  he\ 


400  MEMOIRS    OF 

decease.  She  wrote  a  letter  to  her  father  in  Scotland,  commending 
her  young  family  to  his  protection ;  also  a  letter  to  her  friend  Mrs. 
G — ,  giving  the  charge  of  her  affairs,  and  of  her  family,  to  her  and 
her  husband  Captain  G — ,  during  their  stay  in  Antigua. 

In  this  letter  she  expressed  her  full  confidence  in  the  friendship  of 
Mrs.  G — ,  but  at  the  same  time  declared  her  solicitude  about  her 
indifference  to  spiritual  concerns ;  and  dealt  very  faithfully  with  her 
conscience,  as  to  the  propriety  and  necessity  of  her  being  more  en- 
gaged to  seek  the  favor  of  God,  through  the  mediation  and  atone- 
ment of  the  blessed  Redeemer. 

It  pleased  God,  however,  to  preserve  her  life  at  this  time ;  and 
she  soon  after  dedicated  her  infant  son  to  her  God  in  baptism :  giv- 
ing him  the  name  of  his  father  John. 

Having  now  no  object  to  induce  her  to  stay  longer  at  Antigua, 
she  disposed  of  her  slender  property,  and  placing  her  money  into  the 
hands  of  Major  Brown,  requested  him  to  take  a  passage  for  herself 
and  family,  and  to  lay  in  their  sea  stores. 

Mrs.  Graham,  after  seeing  a  railing  placed  around  the  grave  of 
her  beloved  husband,  that  his  remains  might  not  be  disturbed  until 
mingled  with  their  kindred  dust,  bade  adieu  to  her  kind  friends,  and 
with  a  sorrowful  heart,  turned  her  face  towards  her  native  land.  No 
ship  offering  for  Scotland  at  this  time,  she  embarked  with  her  family  in 
one  bound  to  Belfast  in  Ireland.  Major  Brown  and  his  brother  offi- 
cers saw  her  safely  out  to  sea ;  and  he  gave  her  a  letter  to  a  gentle- 
man in  Belfast,  containing  as  he  said  a  bill  for  the  balance  of  the 
money  she  had  deposited  with  him.  After  a  stormy  and  trying  voy- 
age, she  arrived  in  safety  at  her  destined  port.  The  correspondent 
in  Ireland  of  Major  Brown,  delivered  her  a  letter  from  that  officer, 
expressive  of  esteem  and  affection ;  and  stating,  that  as  a  proof  of 
respect  for  the  memory  of  their  deceased  friend,  he  and  his  brother 
officers  had  taken  the  liberty  of  defraying  the  expenses  of  her 
voyage. 

Consequently,  the  bill  he  had  given  was  for  the  full  amount  of  her 
original  deposit ;  and  thus,  like  the  brethren  of  Joseph,  she  found 
all  her  money  in  the  sack's  mouth.  Being  a  stranger  in  Ireland, 
without  a  friend  to  look  out  for  a  proper  vessel,  in  which  to  embark 
for  Scotland,  she  and  her  children  went  passengers  in  a  packet;  on 
board  of  which,  as  she  afterwards  learned,  there  was  not  even  a 
compass.  A  great  storm  arose,  and  they  were  tossed  to  and  fro  for 
nine  hours  in  imminent  danger.  The  rudder  and  the  mast  were 
carried  away ;  every  thing  on  deck  thrown  overboard  :  and  at  length 
the  vessel  struck  in  the  night  upon  a  rock,  on  the  coast  of  Ayr,  in 
Scotland.  The  greatest  confusion  pervaded  the  passengers  and 
crew.  Amongst  a  number  of  young  students  going  to  the  Universi- 
ty at  Edinburgh,  some  were  swearing,  some  praying  and  all  were  in 
despair.  The  widow  only  remained  composed.  With  her  babe  in 
her  arms,  she  hushed  her  weeping  family,  and  told  them,  that  in  a 


MRS.    ISABELLA    GRAHAM.  401 

few  minutes  they  should  all  go  to  join  their  father  in  a  better  world. 
The  passengers  wrote  their  names  in  their  pocket  books,  that  their 
bodies  might  be  recognized,  and  reported  for  the  information  of 
their  friends.  One  young  man  came  into  the  cabin  asking,  "  is  there 
any  peace  here  ?"  He  was  surprised  to  find  a  female  so  tranquil ; 
a  short  conversation  soon  evinced  that  religion  was  the  source  and 
hope  to  them  both  in  this  perilous  hour.  He  engaged  in  prayer, 
and  then  read  the  107th  Psalm.  While  repeating  these  words,  "he 
maketk  the  storm  a  calm,  so  that  the  waves  thereof  are  still"  the  ves- 
sel swung  off  the  rock  by  the  rising  of  the  tide.  She  had  been 
dashing  against  it  for  an  hour  and  a  half,  the  sea  making  a  breach  over 
her,  so  that  the  hold  was  now  nearly  filled  with  water.  Towards 
morning  the  storm  subsided,  and  the  vessel  floated  until  she  rested 
on  a  sand  bank.  Assistance  was  afforded  from  the  shore,  and  the 
shipwrecked  company  took  shelter  in  a  small  inn,  where  the  men 
semeed  anxious  to  drown  the  remembrance  of  danger  in  a  bowl  of 
punch.  How  faithful  a  monitor  is  conscience  !  this  voice  is  listened 
to  in  extreme  peril ;  but  oh,  infatuated  man  !  how  anxious  art  thou 
to  stifle  the  warnings  of  wisdom  in  the  hour  of  prosperity  !  thou- 
sands of  our  race,  no  doubt  delay  their  preparation  for  eternity,  until 
by  sudden  death,  scarce  a  moment's  time  is  left  to  perform  this  solemn 
work. 

Mrs.  Graham  retired  to  a  private  room  to  offer  up  thanksgiving 
to  God  for  his  goodness,  and  to  commend  herself  and  her  orphans 
to  his  future  care. 

A  gentleman  from  Ayr,  hearing  of  the  shipwreck,  came  down  to 
offer  assistance;  and  in  him  Mrs.  Graham  was  happy  enough  to  re- 
cognize an  old  friend.  This  gentleman  paid  her  and  her  family  much 
attention,  carrying  them  to  his  owTn  house,  and  treating  them  with 
kindness  and  hospitality. 

In  a  day  or  two  after  this,  she  reached  Cartside,  and  entered  her 
father's  dwelling ;  not  the  large  ancient  mansion,  in  which  she  had 
left  him,  but  a  thatched  cottage,  consisting  of  three  apartments. 
Possessed  of  a  too  easy  temper,  and  unsuspecting  disposition,  Mr. 
Marshall  had  been  induced  to  become  security  for  some  of  his  friends 
whose  failure  in  business  had  reduced  him  to  poverty.  He  now  ac- 
ted as  factor  of  a  gentleman's  estate  in  this  neighborhood,  of  whose 
father  he  had  been  the  intimate  friend,  with  a  salary  of  twenty  pounds 
sterling  per  annum,   and  the  use  of  a  small  farm. 

In  a  short  time,  however,  his  health  failed  him,  and  he  was  depri- 
ved of  this  scanty  pittance,  being  incapable,  as  the  proprietor  was 
pleased  to  think,  of  fulfilling  the  duties  of  factor. 

Alive  to  every  call  of  duty,  Mrs.  Graham  now  considered  her  fa- 
ther as  added  with  her  children,  to  the  number  of  dependents  on  her 
industry.  She  proved,  indeed,  a  good  daughter  ;  faithful,  affection- 
ate and  dutiful,  she  supported  her  father  through  his  declining  years ; 
and  he  died  at  her  house,  during  her  residence  in  Edinburgh,  sur- 
al 


402  MEMOIRS    OF 

rounded  by  his  daughter  and  her  children,  who  tenderly  watched 
him  through  his  last  illness. 

From  Cartside,  she  removed  to  Paisley,  where  she  taught  a  small 
school.  The  slender  profits  of  such  an  establishment,  with  a  wid- 
ow's pension  of  sixteen  pounds  sterling,  were  the  means  of  subsis- 
tence for  herself  and  her  family.  When  she  first  returned  to  Cart- 
side,  a  few  religious  friends  called  to  welcome  her  home.  The  gay 
and  wealthy  part  of  her  former  acquaintance,  flutterers  who,  like  the 
butterfly,  spread  their  silken  wings,  only  to  bask  in  the  warmth  of  a 
summer  sun,  found  not  their  way  to  the  lonely  cottage  of  an  afflicted 
widow.  Her  worth,  although  in  after  life,  rendered  splendid  by  its 
own  fruits,  was  at  this  time  hidden,  excepting  to  those  whose  reflec- 
tion and  wisdom,  had  taught  them  to  discern  it  more  in  the  faith  and 
submission  of  the  soul,  than  in  the  selfish  and  extravagant  exhibi- 
tions of  that  wealth,  bestowed  by  the  bounty  of  providence,  but  ex- 
pended too  often  for  the  purposes  of  vanity  and  dissipation. 

In  such  circumstances,  the  christian  character  of  Mrs.  Graham 
was  strongly  marked.  Sensible  that  her  heavenly  Father  saw  it 
good,  at  this  time,  to  depress  her  outward  condition,  full  of  filial  ten- 
derness, and  like  a  real  child  of  God,  resigned  to  whatever  should 
appear  to  be  his  will,  her  conduct  conformed  to  his  dispensations. 
With  a  cheerful  heart,  and  in  the  hope  of  faith,  she  set  herself  to 
walk  down  into  the  valley  of  humiliation,  leaning  upon  Jesus,  as  the 
beloved  of  her  soul.  1  delight  to  do  thy  will,  Oh  my  God,  yea,  thy 
law  is  ivithin  my  heart,  was  the  spontaneous  effusion  of  her  genuine 
faith.  She  received,  with  affection,  the  scriptural  admonition,  Hum- 
hie  yourselves  therefore  under  the  mighty  hand  of  God,  that  he  may 
exalt  you  in  due  time :  casting  all  your  care  upon  him  ;  for  he  careth 
for  you. 

She  laid  aside  her  children's  fine  frocks  and  clothed  them  in  home- 
spun. At  Cartside,  she  sold  the  butter  she  made,  and  her  children 
were  fed  on  milk.  It  was  her  wish  to  eat  her  own  bread,  however 
coarse,  and  to  owe  no  person  any  thing  but  love.  At  Paisley,  for  a 
season,  her  breakfast  and  supper  was  porridge,  and  her  dinner  pota- 
toes and  salt.  Peace  with  God,  and  a  contented  mind,  supplied  the 
lack  of  earthly  prosperity,  and  she  adverted  to  this  her  humble  fare, 
to  comfort  the  hearts  of  suffering  sisters,  with  whom  she  correspond- 
ed at  a  later  period  of  life,  when  in  comfortable  circumstances. 

Meantime  the  Lord  was  not  unmindful  of  his  believing  child ;  but 
was  preparing  the  minds  of  her  friends  for  introducing  her  to  a  more 
enlarged  sphere  of  usefulness. 

Her  pious  and  attached  friend,  Mrs.  Major  Brown,  had  accompa- 
nied her  husband  to  Scotland,  and  they  now  resided  on  their  estate  in 
Ayrshire.  Mr.  Peter  Reid,  a  kind  friend  when  in  Antigua,  was  now 
a  merchant  in  London.  This  gentleman  advised  her  to  invest  the 
little  money  she  had  brought  home,  (and  which  she  had  still  preserv- 
ed,) in  muslins ;  which  she  could  work  into  finer  articles  of  dress  j 


MRS.  ISABELLA  GRAHAM.  403 

and  he  would  ship  them  in  a  vessel  of  his  own,  freight  free,  to  be 
sold  in  the  West  Indies.  His  object  was  partly  to  increase  her  little 
capital,  and  partly  to  divert  her  mind  from  meditating  so  deeply  on 
the  loss  of  her  lamented  husband. 

She  shed  so  many  tears  while  at  Cartside,  as  to  injure  her  eye- 
sight, and  to  render  the  use  of  spectacles  necessary :  she  adopted 
his  plan ;  the  muslin  dresses  were  shipped ;  but  she  soon  afterwards 
learned  that  the  ship  was  captured  by  the  French.  This  a  severe 
blow  to  her  temporal  property,  and  more  deeply  felt,  as  it  was  receiv- 
ed at  the  time  when  her  father  was  deprived  of  his  office. 

Mrs.  Brown,  after  consulting  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  Randall,  of  Glas- 
gow ;  the  Rev.  Mr.  Ellis,  of  Paisley ;  lady  Glenorchy  and  Mrs. 
Walker,  of  Edinburgh  ;  proposed  to  Mrs.  Graham  to  take  charge  of 
a  boarding  school  in  the  metropolis. 

The  friends  of  religion  were  of  opinion,  that  such  an  establishment, 
under  the  direction  of  such  a  character  as  Mrs.  Graham,  would  be  of 
singular  benefit  to  young  ladies,  destined  for  important  stations  in  so- 
ciety. Her  liberal  education,  her  acquaintance  with  life,  and  her 
humble,  yet  ardent  piety,  were  considered  peculiarly  calculated  to 
qualify  her  for  so  important  a  trust. 

Another  friend  had  suggested  to  Mrs.  Graham  the  propriety  of 
opening  a  boarding  house  in  Edinburgh,  which  he  thought  could, 
through  his  influence,  be  easily  filled  by  students. 

She  saw  obstacles  to  both ;  a  boarding  house  did  not  appear  suit- 
able, as  her  daughters  would  not  be  so  likely  to  have  the  same  ad- 
vantages of  education  as  from  a  boarding  school.  To  engage  as  an 
instructress  of  youth  on  so  large  a  scale,  with  so  many  competitors, 
appeared  for  her,  an  arduous  undertaking. 

In  this  perplexity,  as  in  former  trials,  she  fled  to  her  unerring 
counsellor,  the  Lord,  her  covenant  God.  She  set  apart  a  day  for 
fasting  and  prayer.  She  spread  her  case  before  the  Lord,  earnestly 
beseeching  him  to  make  his  word  a  light  to  her  feet,  and  a  lamp  to 
her  path;  and  to  lead  her  in  (he  way  in  which  she  should  go;  es- 
pecially, that  she  might  be  directed  to  choose  the  path,  in  which  she 
could  best  promote  his  glory,  and  the  best  interests  of  herself  and 
her  children.  On  searching  the  scriptures,  her  mind  fastened  on 
these  words,  in  John  xxi,  15,  Simon,  son  of  Jonas,  lovest  thou  me 
more  than  these?  He  saith  unto  him,  yea,  Lord ;  thou  Jcnoivesi  that 
I  love  thee;  he  said  unto  him,  feed  my  lambs. 

Never,  perhaps,  was  this  commandment  applied  with  more  energy, 
nor  accompanied  with  a  richer  blessing  since  the  days  of  the  Apostle, 
ihan  in  the  present  instance. 

Her  determination  was  accordingly  made.  She  resolved  to  un- 
dertake the  education  of  youth,  trusting  that  her  Lord  would  make 
her  a  humble  instrument  to  feed  his  lambs.  Here  was  exhibited  an 
instance  of  simple,  yet  powerful  faith  in  a  believer,  surrounded  by 
temporal  perplexities;  and  of  condescension  and  mercy  on  the  part  of 


404  MEMOIRS  OF 

a  compassionate  God.     Light,  unseen  by  mortal  eyes,  descended  on 
her  path. 

Although  her  faith  was  strong,  yet  her  mind  was  under  such  agita- 
tion, from  her  total  want  of  funds  to  carry  her  plan  into  effect,  and 
from  other  conflicting  exercises,  as  to  throw  her  into  a  nervous  fever, 
which  kept  her  confined  to  her  bed  for  some  weeks.  On  her  recov- 
ery, she  felt  it  her  duty  to  go  forward,  trusting  that  He  who  had  di- 
rected her  path,  would  provide  the  means  that  were  necessary  to 
enable  her  to  walk  in  it :  she  sold  her  heavy  furniture,  packed  up 
all  her  remaining  effects,  and  prepared  to  set  out  from  Paisley  for 
Edinburgh  on  a  Monday,  sometime  in  the  year  1780. 

On  the  Saturday  previous,  she  sat  by  her  fire,  musing,  and  won- 
dering in  what  manner  the  Lord  would  appear  for  her  at  this  time, 
when  a  letter  was  brought  to  her  from  Mr.  Peter  Reid,  enclosing  a 
sum  of  money  which  he  had  recovered  from  the  underwriters,  on 
account  of  Mrs.  Graham's  muslins,  captured  on  their  passage  to  the 
West  Indies.  Mrs.  Graham  had  considered  them  as  totalrjTtost,  but 
her  friend  had  taken  the  precaution  to  have  them  insured. 

With  this  supply  she  was  enabled  to  accomplish  her  object,  and 
arrived  in  Edinburgh  with  her  family.  Her  friend,  Mrs.  Brown,  met 
her  there,  and  stayed  with  her  a  few  days,  to  comfort  and  patronize 
her  in  her  new  undertaking.  Mrs.  Brown  was  her  warm  and  con- 
stant friend,  until  her  death,  which  happened  at  Paisley  it  1782,  when 
she  was  attending  the  communion.  She  bequeathed  her  daughter 
Mary  to  Mrs,  Graham's  care.  But  in  1735  the  daughter  followed 
the  mother,  being  cut  off  by  a  fever  in  the  twelfth  year  of  her  age. 

It  may  be  proper  here  to  introduce  the  name  of  Mr.  George  An- 
derson, a  merchant  in  Glasgow,  who  had  been  an  early  and  particu- 
lar friend  of  Dr.  Graham.  He  kindly  offered  his  friendly  services, 
and  the  use  of  his  purse,  to  promote  the  welfare  of  the  bereaved 
family  of  his  friend.  Mrs.  Graham  occasionally  drew  upon  both. 
The  money  she  borrowed,  she  had  the  satisfaction  of  repaying  with 
interest. 

A  correspondence  was  carried  on  between  them  after  Mrs.  Gra- 
ham's removal  to  America,  until  the  death  of  Mr.  Anderson  in  1802. 
Such  was  the  acknowledged  integrity  of  this  gentleman,  that  he  was 
very  generally  known  in  Glasgow  by  the  appellation  of  "  honest 
George  Anderson." 

During  her  residence  in  Edinburgh,  she  was  honored  with  the 
friendship  and  counsel  of  many  persons  of  distinction  and  piety. 
The  viscountess  Glenorchy  ;  lady  Ross  Baillie ;  lady  Jane  Belches ; 
Mrs.  Walter  Scott,  (mother  of  the  poet ;)  Mrs.  Dr.  Davidson  ;  Mrs. 
Baillie  Walker,  were  amongst  her  warm  personal  friends.  The  Rev. 
Dr.  Erskine,  and  Dr.  Davidson,  (formerly  the  Rev.  Mr.  Randall,  of 
Glasgow,)  and  many  respectable  clergymen,  were  also  her  friends. 
She  and  her  family  attended  on  the  ministry  of  Dr.  Davidson,  an 
,;;bJc,  evangelical,  useful  pastor. 


MRS.  ISABELLA  GRAHAM.  405 

Her  school  soon  became  respectable,  in  numbers  and  character. 
Her  early  and  superior  education  now  proved  of  essential  service  to 
her.  She  was  indefatigable  in  her  attention  to  the  instruction  of  her 
pupils.  While  she  was  faithful  in  giving  them  those  accomplishments 
which  were  to  qualify  them  for  acting  a  distinguished  part  in  this 
world,  she  was  also  zealous  in  directing  their  attention  to  that  Gospel, 
by  which  they  were  instructed  to  obtain  an  inheritance  in  the  eternal 
world.  She  felt  a  high  responsibility,  and  took  a  deep  interest  in 
their  temporal  and  spiritual  welfare.  As  a  mother  in  Israel,  she  wish- 
ed to  train  them  up  in  the  ways  of  the  Lord. 

She  prayed  with  them  morning  and  evening,  and  on  the  sabbath, 
which  she  was  careful  to  devote  to  its  proper  use,  she  took  great 
pains  to  imbue  their  minds  with  the  truths  of  religion.  Nor  did  she 
labor  in  vain.  Although  she  was  often  heard  to  lament  of  how  little 
use  she  had  been,  compared  with  her  opportunities  of  doing  good, 
yet  when  her  children,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bethune,  visited  Scotland  in 
1801,  they  heard  of  many  characters,  then  pious  and  exemplary, 
who  dated  their  first  religious  impressions  from  those  seasons  of 
early  instruction  which  they  enjoyed  under  Mrs.  Graham,  while  in 
Edinburgh. 

Mrs.  Graham's  manner  in  the  management  of  youth,  was  peculiar- 
ly happy.  Whilst  she  kept  them  diligent  in  their  studies,  and  strictly 
obedient  the  laws  she  had  established,  she  was  endeared  to  them  by 
her  tenderness ;  and  the  young  ladies  instructed  in  her  school,'  re- 
tained for  her  in  after  life  a  degree  of  filial  affection,  which  showed 
itself  unequivocally  wherever  opportunities  offered  to  test  it.  This 
was  afterwards  remarkably  the  case  with  her  pupils  in  America. 
Her  little  republic  was  completely  governed  by  a  system  of  equitable 
laws.  On  every  alleged  offence,  a  court  martial,  as  they  termed  it, 
was  held,  and  the  accused  tried  by  her  peers.  There  were  no  arbi- 
trary punishments,  no  sallies  of  capricious  passion.  The  laws  were 
promulgated  and  must  be  obeyed.  The  sentences  of  the  courts 
martial  were  always  approved,  and  had  a  salutary  effect.  In  short, 
there  was  a  combination  of  authority,  decision  and  tendernes,  in  Mrs. 
Graham's  government,  that  rendered  its  subjects  industrious,  intelli- 
gent, circumspect,  and  happy.  She  enjoyed  their  happiness  ;  and 
in  cases  of  sickness,  she  watched  her  patients  with  unremitting  soli- 
citude and  care,  sparing  no  expense  to  promote  their  restoration  to 
health. 

A  strong  trait  in  her  character  was  distinctly  marked  by  one  rule 
she  had  adopted,  viz.  to  educate  the  daughters  of  pious  ministers  at 
half  price.  This  was  setting  an  example  worthy  of  imitation.  It 
was  a  conduct  conformable  to  scriptural  precept.  Said  Paul,  If  we 
have  sown  unto  you  spiritual  things,  is  it  a  great  thing  if  ive  shall 
reap  your  carnal  things  ?  Do  ye  not  know  that  they  which  minister 
about  holy  things,  live  of  the  things  of  the  temple?  Even  so  hath  the 
Lord  ordained  that  they  which  preach  the  gospel  should  live  by  the 
gospel. 


406  MEMOIRS  OF 

It  was  customary  with  lady  Glenorchy  to  remark,  that  two  of  Mrs. 
Graham's  friends  held  a  band  around  her  waist,  when  she  approach- 
ed the  boundaries  between  religion  and  the  world,  to  prevent  her  from 
falling  over. 

Lady  Glenorchy  being  in  a  delicate  state  of  health,  made  frequent 
use  of  Mrs.  Graham  as  her  almoner  to  the  poor.  On  one  of  these 
visits,  Mrs.  Graham  called  on  a  poor  woman,  with  a  present  of  a  new 
gown.  "  I  am  obliged  to  you  and  her  ladyship  for  your  kindness," 
said  the  poor  woman,  rich  in  faith ;  "  but  I  maun  gang  to  the  right 
airth  first,  ye  wad  na  hae  come,  gin  ye  had  na  been  sent ;  the  Lord 
hath  left  me  lately  wi  but  ae  goon  for  week  day  and  sabbath,  but  now 
he  has  sent  you  with  a  sabbath  day's  goon."  Meaning  in  plain  Eng- 
lish, that  her  thankfulness  was  first  due  to  the  God  of  providence, 
who  had  put  it  into  the  hearts  of  his  children  to  supply  the  wants  of 
this  poor  disciple. 

It  being  stated  as  a  matter  of  regret,  that  poor  people,  when  sick, 
suffered  greatly,  although  while  in  health  their  daily  labor  supported 
them  ;  Mrs.  Graham  suggested  the  idea  of  every  poor  person  in  the 
neighborhood  laying  aside  one  penny  a  week,  to  form  a  fund  for  re- 
lieving the  contributors  when  in  sickness.  Mr.  Douglas  undertook 
the  formation  of  such  an  Institution.  It  went  for  a  long  time  under 
the  name  of  "  The  Penny  Society."  It  afterwards  received  a  more 
liberal  patronage,  has  now  a  handsome  capital,  and  is  called  "  The 
Society  for  the  relief  of  the  Destitute  Sick." 

In  July  1786,  Mrs.  Graham  attended  the  dying  bed  of  her  friend 
and  patroness,  lady  Glenorchy :  this  lady  had  shown  her  friendship  in 
a  variety  of  ways  during  her  valuable  life  ;  she  had  one  of  Mrs.  Gra- 
ham's daughters  for  some  time  in  her  family ;  condescended  herself 
to  instruct  her,  and  sent  her  for  a  year  to  a  French  boarding  school 
in  Rotterdam.  She  defrayed  all  her  expenses  while  there,  and  fur- 
nished her  with  a  liberal  supply  of  pocket  money,  that  she  might  not 
see  distress  without  the  power  of  relieving  it.  So  much  does  a  per- 
son's conduct  in  maturer  years  depend  upon  the  habits  of  early  life, 
that  it  is  wise  to  accustom  young  people  to  feel  for,  and  to  contribute 
in  their  degree  to  the  relief  ol,  the  afflicted  and  the  needy. 

Mrs.  Graham  had  the  honor  of  attending  the  death  bed,  and  of 
closing  the  eyes  of  this  distinguished  child  of  God.  It  had  been 
lady  Glenorchy's  express  desire  that  Mrs.  Graham  should  be  sent  for 
to  attend  her  dying  bed,  if  within  twenty  miles  of  her  when  such  at- 
tendance should  be  necessary. 

When  Dr.  Witherspoon  visited  Scotland  in  the  year  1785,  he  had 
frequent  conversations  with  Mrs.  Graham,  on  the  subject  of  her  re- 
moval to  America.  She  gave  him  at  this  time  some  reason  to  calcu- 
late on  her  going  thither  as  soon  as  her  children  should  have  comple- 
ted the  course  of  education  she  had  proposed  for  them. 

Mrs.  Graham  had  entertained  a  strong  partiality  for  America  ever 
since  her  former  residence  there,  and  had  indulged  a  secret  expecta- 
tion of  returning  thither. 


MRS.  ISABELLA  GRAHAM,  407 

It  was  her  opinion,  and  that  of  many  pious  people,  that  America 
was  the  country  where  the  Church  of  Christ  would  eventually  flour- 
ish.    She  was  therefore  desirous  to  leave  her  offspring  there. 

After  some  correspondence  with  Dr.  Witherspoon,  and  consulta- 
tion with  pious  friends,  she  received  the  approbation  of  the  latter  to 
her  plan.  She  had  an  invitation  from  many  respectable  characters  in 
the  city  of  New  York,  with  assurances  of  patronage  and  support. 
She  arranged  her  affairs  for  quitting  Edinburgh.  The  Algerines  be- 
ing then  at  war  with  the  United  States,  her  friends  insisted  on  her 
chartering  a  small  British  vessel  to  carry  herself  and  family  to  the 
port  of  New  York.  This  increased  her  expenses ;  but  providence, 
in  faithfulness  and  mercy,  sent  her  at  this  time  a  remittance  from  Dr. 
Henderson  ;  and  a  legacy  of  two  hundred  pounds  bequeathed  her  by 
lady  Glenorchy  as  a  mark  of  her  regard,  was  of  great  use  to  her  in 
her  present  circumstances. 

Thus  in  the  month  of  July,  1789,  Mrs.  Graham  once  more  pre- 
pared to  go  into  a  land  which  the  Lord  seemed  to  tell  her  of;  and 
after  a  pleasant,  though  tedious  voyage,  she  landed  in  New  York  on 
the  8th  day  of  September. 

At  New  York  she  and  her  family  were  received  with  the  greatest 
cordiality  and  confidence.  The  late  Rev.  Dr.  Rodgers  and  Dr. 
Mason  were  especially  kind  to  her.  She  came  eminently  prepared 
to  instruct  her  pupils  in  all  the  higher  branches  of  female  education : 
the  favorable  change  effected  by  her  exertions  in  this  respect,  was 
soon  visible  in  the  minds,  manners,  and  accomplishments  of  the  young 
ladies  committed  to  her  care.  She  opened  her  school  on  the  5th  of 
October,  1789,  with  five  scholars,  and  before  the  end  of  the  same 
month,  the  number  increased  to  fifty.  She  not  only  imparted  knowl- 
edge to  her  pupils,  but  also  by  her  conversation  and  example,  pre- 
pared their  minds  to  receive  it  in  such  a  manner  as  to  apply  it  to 
practical  advantage.  Whilst  she  taught  them  to  regard  external  ac- 
complishments as  ornaments  to  the  female  character,  she  was  careful 
to  recommend  the  practice  of  virtue  as  the  highest  accomplishment 
of  all,  and  to  inculcate  the  principles  of  religion  as  the  only  solid 
foundation  for  morality  and  virtue.  The  annual  examination  of  her 
scholars  were  always  well  attended,  and  gave  great  satisfaction. 
General  Washington,  whilst  at  New  York,  honored  her  with  his  patron- 
age. The  venerable  and  amiable  Bishop  of  the  Episcopal  church 
in  the  state  of  New  York,  then  the  Rev.  Dr.  Benjamin  Moore,  never 
once  was  absent  from  those  examinations.  She  was  sensible  of  his 
friendship,  and  always  spoke  of  him  in  terms  of  great  esteem  and 
respect. 

She  united  in  communion  with  the  Presbyterian  Church  under 
the  pastoral  care  of  the  late  Rev.  Dr.  John  Mason.  This  excellent 
man  was  her  faithful  friend,  and  wise  counsellor.  Under  his  ministry 
her  two  daughters,  Joanna  and  Isabella,  joined  the  church  in  the  year 
1791.     Her  eldest  daughter  Jessie,  who  had  made  a  profession  of 


408 


MEMOIRS  OF 


religion  in  Scotland,  was  married  in  July,  1790,  to  Mr.  Hay  Steven- 
son, merchant  of  New  York,  and  she  became  a  member  of  the  Pres- 
byterian Church  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Rodgers  where  her  husband 
attended. 

In  the  year  1791,  her  son,  who  had  been  left  in  Scotland  to  com- 
plete his  education,  paid  his  mother  a  visit.  Mrs.  Graham,  consider- 
ing herself  as  inadequate  to  the  proper  management  of  a  boy,  had  at  an 
early  period  of  his  life  sent  her  son  to  the  care  of  a  friend,  who  had 
promised  to  pay  due  attention  to  his  morals  and  education.  The  boy 
had  a  warm  affectionate  heart,  but  possessed,  at  the  same  time,  a 
bold  and  fearless  spirit.  Such  a  disposition,  under  proper  manage- 
ment, might  have  been  formed  into  a  noble  character ;  but  he  was 
neglected,  and  left  in  a  great  measure  to  himself  by  his  first  preceptor. 

For  two  years  of  his  life,  he  was  under  the  care  of  Mr.  Murray, 
teacher  of  an  academy  at  Abercorn.  He  was  a  man  truly  qualified 
for  this  station.  He  instructed  his  pupils  with  zeal ;  led  even  their 
amusements ;  and  to  an  exemplary  piety,  added  the  faithful  counsel 
of  a  friend.  He  loved,  and  was  therefore  beloved.  Under  his  super- 
intendence, John  Graham  improved  rapidly,  and  gained  the  affections 
of  his  teacher  and  companions.  Happy  for  him  had  he  continued 
in  such  a  suitable  situation.  He  was  removed  to  Edinburgh  to  receive 
a  more  classical  education.  Being  left  there  by  his  mother  and 
sisters,  the  impetuosity  of  his  temper,  and  propensity  for  a  sea-faring 
life,  induced  his  friends  to  place  him  as  an  apprentice  in  the  mer- 
chant-service. He  was  shipwrecked  on  the  coast  of  Holland,  and 
Mr.  Gibson  of  Rotterdam,  a  friend  of  Mrs.  Graham,  took  him  to  his 
house,  and  enabled  him  to  come  to  the  United  Stales.  He  remain- 
ed at  New  York  for  some  months.  His  mother  deemed  it  his  duty 
to  return  to  Scotland  to  complete  his  time  of  service.  His  inclina- 
tion tended  evidently  to  the  profession  of  a  sailor ;  she  therefore 
fitted  him  out  handsomely,  and  he  embarked  for  Greenock  in  the 
same  ship  with  Mr.  John  M.  Mason,  the  only  son  of  the  late  Dr. 
Mason,  who  went  to  attend  the  theological  lectures  at  the  Divinity 
Hall  in  Edinburgh. 

Mrs.  Graham's  exercises  of  mind  on  parting  with  her  son,  were 
deep  and  affecting.  She  cast  him  upon  the  covenant  mercy  of  her 
God,  placing  a  blank,  as  to  temporal  things,  in  her  Lord's  hand,  but 
holding  on  with  a  fervent  faith  and  hope  to  the  promise  of  spiritual 
life,  Leave  thy  fatherless  children,  1  mill  preserve  them  alive  :  and  let 
thy  widows  trust  in  me. 

Three  months  afterwards,  she  learned  that  a  pressgang  had  boarded 
the  ship  in  w7hich  her  son  had  been,  and  although  he  was  saved  from 
their  grasp  by  a  stratagem  of  the  passengers,  yet  all  his  clothes  were 
taken  away  from  him.  Reflecting  on  this  event,  she  says,  "  shall  I 
withdraw  the  blank  I  have  put  into  the  Redeemer's  hands?  has  he 
not  hitherto  done  all  things  well  ?  have  not  my  own  afflictions  been  my 
greatest  blessings?  Lord  I  renew  my  blank."     After  undergoing 


MRS.    ISABELLA    GRAHAM.  409 

many  sufferings,  this  young  man  wrote  to  his  mother  from  Demerara 
in  the  year  1794,  that  he  had  been  made  a  prisoner:  had  been  re- 
taken ;  and  then  intended  to  go  to  Europe  with  a  fleet  which  was  soon 
to  sail  under  convoy.  His  letter  was  couched  in  terms  of  salutary  re- 
flection on  his  past  life,  and  a  hope  of  profiting  by  past  experience. 
This  was  the  last  account  which  Mrs.  Graham  had  of  her  afflicted 
son.  All  inquiries  instituted  respecting  him  proved  fruitless,  and  she 
had  to  exercise  faith  and  submission,  not  without  hope  towards  God, 
that  the  Great  Redeemer  had  taken  care  of,  and  would  finally  save, 
this  prodigal  son.  She  had  known  a  case  in  her  father's  family,  which 
excited  their  solicitude,  and  encouraged  her  hope.  Her  younger 
brother,  Archibald  Marshall,  a  lad  of  high  temper,  though  possessed 
of  an  affectionate  heart,  had  gone  to  sea,  and  was  not  heard  of  at 
all  for  several  years.  A  pious  woman  who  kept  a  boarding-house  in 
Paisley,  found  one  of  her  boarders  one  day  reading  Doddridge's 
Rise  and  Progress  of  Religion  in  the  Soul  of  Man,  with  Archibald 
Marshall's  name  written  on  the  blank  leaf.  On  inquiry  the  stranger 
told  her  he  got  that  book  from  a  young  man  on  his  death-bed,  as  a 
token  of  regard.  That  young  man  was  Archibald  Marshall — he  was 
an  exemplary  Christian ;  "and  I  have  reason,"  added  he,  "  to  bless 
God  that  he  was  ever  my  messmate."  The  woman,  who  heard  this 
account,  transmitted  it  to  Mr.  Marshall's  family,  who  were  known  to 
her.  Mrs.  Graham  had  no  such  consolatory  account  afforded  to 
her ;  but  under  much  yearning  of  heart,  she  left  this  concern,  as 
well  as  every  other,  to  the  disposal  of  that  God  who  doeth  all  things 
ivelL 

In  July  1795,  Mrs.  Graham's  second  daughter,  Joanna,  was  mar- 
ried to  Mr.  Divie  Bethune,  merchant  in  New  York.  In  the  follow- 
ing month  her  eldest  daughter,  Mrs.  Stevenson,  was  seized  with  a 
fatal  illness.  Of  a  most  amiable  disposition  and  genuine  piety,  she 
viewed  the  approach  of  death  with  the  composure  of  a  Christian 
and  the  intrepidity  of  faith. 

She  had  been  in  delicate  health  for  some  years  before,  and  now  a 
complication  of  disorders  denied  all  hope  of  recovery.  She  sung  a 
hymn  of  triumph,  until  the  struggles  of  death  interrupted  her.  Mrs. 
Graham  displayed  great  firmness  of  mind,  during  the  last  trying  scene, 
and  when  the  spirit  of  her  daughter  fled,  the  mother  raised  her  hands, 
and  looking  towards  heaven,  exclaimed,  "  I  wish  you  joy,  my  darling." 
She  then  washed  her  face,  took  some  refreshment,  and  retired  to  rest. 

Such  was  her  joy  of  faith  at  the  full  salvation  of  her  child ;  but 
when  the  loss  of  her  company  was  felt,  the  tenderness  of  a  mother's 
heart  afterwards  gave  vent  to  feelings  of  affectionate  sorrow  :  nature 
will  feel,  even  when  faith  triumphs. 

Mrs.  Graham  made  it  a  rule  to  appropriate  a  tenth  part  of  her 
earnings  to  be  expended  for  pious  and  charitable  purposes :  she  had 
taken  a  lease  of  two  lots  of  ground  on  Greenwich-street  from  the 
corporation  of  Trinity  Church,   with  a  view  of  building  a  house  on 

52 


410  MEMOIRS    OF 

them  for  her  own  accommodation  :  the  building,  however,  she  never 
commenced :  by  a  sale  which  her  son,  Mr.  Bethune,  made  of  the 
lease  in  1795  for  her,  she  got  an  advance  of  one  thousand  pounds. 
So  large  a  profit  was  new  to  her.  "Quick,  quick,"  said  she,  "let 
me  appropriate  the  tenth  before  my  heart  grows  hard."  What  fidelity 
in  duty!  what  distrust  of  herself!  Fifty  pounds  of  this  money  she 
sent  to  Mr.  Mason  in  aid  of  the  funds  he  was  collecting  for  the  es- 
tablishment of  a  Theological  Seminary. 

In  the  year  1797,  a  society  was  instituted  at  New  York,  for  the 
relief  of  poor  widows  witli  small  children  ;  a  society  which  rose  into 
great  respectability,  and  has  been  productive  of  very  beneficent  effects. 
The  Lord,  in  his  merciful  providence  prepared  this  Institution,  to 
grant  relief  to  many  bereaved  families,  who  were  left  widows  and 
orphans  by  the  ravages  of  the  yellow  fever  in  the  year  1798. 

It  took  rise  from  an  apparently  adventitious  circumstance.  Mr. 
Bethune,  in  the  year  1796,  was  one  of  the  distributing  managers  of 
the  St.  Andrew's  Society.  The  distribution  of  this  charity  was  of 
course  limited  to  a  certain  description  of  applicants.  Mrs.  Bethune, 
interested  for  widows  not  entitled  to  share  in  the  bounty  of  the  St.  An- 
drew's Society,  frequently  collected  small  sums  for  their  relief.  She 
consulted  with  a  few  friends  on  the  propriety  of  establishing  a  Female 
Society  for  the  relief  of  poor  widows  with  small  children,  without 
limitation.  Invitations  in  the  form  of  circular  letters,  were  sent  to 
the  ladies  of  New  York ;  and  a  very  respectable  number  assembled 
at  the  house  of  Mrs.  Graham.  The  proposed  plan  was  approved, 
and  a  society  organized.  Mrs.  Graham  was  elected  first  Directress 
which  office  she  held  ten  years. 

At  the  semi-annual  meeting  in  March,  1798,  Mrs.  Graham  made 
a  very  pleasing  report  of  the  proceedings  of  the  managers,  and  of 
the  amount  of  relief  afforded  to  the  poor.  The  ladies  of  New- York 
rendered  themselves  truly  deserving  of  applause  for  their  zeal  in  this 
benevolent  undertaking. 

In  the  month  of  September  1798,  Mrs.  Graham's  daughter  Isa- 
bella was  married  to  Mr.  Andrew  Smith,  merchant  of  New  York, 
(afterwards  of  Richmond,  Va.)  Her  family  being  thus  settled  to 
her  satisfaction,  she  was  prevailed  upon  to  retire  from  business,  and 
to  live  with  her  children. 

Miss  Farquharson,  her  assistant,  to  whom  she  was  much  attach- 
ed, declined  to  succeed  her,  choosing  rather  to  enjoy  the  society  of 
her  patroness  and  friend.  She  was  a  young  lady  of  genuine  piety 
and  worth.  The  Lord  had  designed  her  for  another  important  sta- 
tion. She  is  now  Mrs.  Loveless,  of  Madras,  the  help-meet  of  the 
London  Society's  excellent  missionary  there.  Mrs.  Graham  main- 
tained a  correspondence  with  Mrs.  Loveless,  and  always  regarded 
her  with  much  affection. 

During  the  prevalence  of  the  yellow  fever  in  1798,  it  was  with 
much  difficulty  Mrs.  Graham  was  dissuaded  from  going  into  the  city 


MRS.     ISABELLA    GRAHAM.  411 

to  attend  on  the  sick  :  the  fear  of  involving  her  children  in  the  same 
calamity,  in  the  event  of  her  being  attacked  by  the  fever,  was  the 
chief  reason  of  her  acquiescing  in  their  wish  to  prevent  so  hazardous 
an  undertaking.  During  the  subsequent  winter,  she  was  indefatiga- 
ble in  her  attentions  to  the  poor :  she  exerted  herself  to  procure 
work  for  her  widows,  and  occupied  much  of  her  time  in  cutting  it 
out,  and  preparing  it  for  them.  The  managers  of  the  Widow's  so- 
ciety had  each  their  separate  districts ;  and  Mrs.  Graham,  as  first 
Directress,  had  a  general  superintendence  of  the  whole.  She  was 
so  happy  in  the  execution  of  her  trust,  as  to  acquire  the  respect  and 
confidence  of  the  ladies  who  acted  with  her,  as  well  as  the  affec- 
tions of  the  poor. 

Her  whole  time  was  now  at  her  command,  and  she  devoted  it  very 
faithfully  to  promote  the  benevolent  object  of  the  institution  over 
which  she  presided.  The  extent  of  her  exertions,  however,  became 
known,  not  from  the  information  given  by  herself,  but  from  the  ob- 
servations of  her  fellow  laborers,  and  especially  from  the  testimony 
of  the  poor  themselves. 

In  the  summer  of  1800,  she  paid  a  visit  to  her  friends  in  Boston. 
When  she  had  been  absent  for  some  weeks,  her  daughter  Mrs.  Be- 
thune  was  surprised  at  the  frequent  inquiries  made  after  her,  by  per- 
sons with  whom  she  was  unacquainted  :  at  length  she  asked  some 
of  those  inquirers  what  they  knew  of  Mrs.  Graham  ?  they  replied, 
"  we  live  in  the  surburbs  of  the  city,  where  she  used  to  visit,  relieve 
and  comfort  the  poor.  We  had  missed  her  so  long  that  we  were 
afraid  she  had  been  sick  :  when  she  walked  our  streets,  it  was  cus- 
tomary with  us  to  come  to  the  door  and  bless  her  as  she  passed." 

Until  January  1803,  she  lived  alternately  with  her  children,  Mrs. 
Bethune  and  Mrs.  Smith  ;  at  this  period  Mr.  Smith  having  removed 
from  New  York,  Mrs.  Graham  resided  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bethune, 
until  her  departure  to  a  better  world.  They  loved  her,  not  only 
from  natural  affection,  but  for  her  superior  worth ;  they  valued  her, 
for  they  believed  that  many  blessings  were  vouchsafed  to  them  and 
their  family  in  answer  to  her  prayers. 

The  Society  for  the  relief  of  poor  widows  with  small  children 
having  received  a  charter  of  incorporation,  and  some  pecuniary  aid 
from  the  Legislature  of  the  state,  the  ladies  who  constituted  the 
Board  of  Direction,  were  engaged  in  plans  for  extending  their  use- 
fulness :  Mrs.  Graham  took  an  active  part  in  executing  these  plans. 
The  society  purchased  a  small  house,  where  they  received  work  of 
various  kinds,  for  the  employment  of  their  widows.  They  opened 
a  school  for  the  instruction  of  their  orphans,  and  many  of  Mrs.  Gra- 
ham's former  pupils  volunteered  their  services,  taking  upon  them- 
selves by  rotation,  the  part  of  instructors.  Besides  establishing  this 
School,  Mrs.  Graham  selected  some  of  the  widows,  best  qualified 
for  the  task,  and  engaged  them  for  a  small  compensation,  to  open 
day  schools  for  the  instruction  of  the  children  of  widows,  in  distant 


412  MEMOIRS    OF 

parts  of  the  city :  she  also  established  two  Sabbath  Schools,  one  of 
which  she  superintended  herself,  and  the  other  she  placed  under 
the  care  of  her  daughter.  Wherever  she  met  with  Christians  sick 
and  in  poverty,  she  visited  and  comforted  them ;  and  in  some  instan- 
ces opened  small  subscription  lists  to  provide  for  their  support. 

She  attended  occasionally  for  some  years  at  the  Alms  House  for 
the  instruction  of  the  children  there,  in  religious  knowledge :  in  this 
work  she  was  much  assisted  by  a  humble  and  pious  female  friend, 
who  was  seldom  absent  from  it  on  the  Lord's  day.  In  short,  her 
whole  time  was  occupied  in  searching  out  the  distresses  of  the  poor, 
and  devising  measures  to  comfort  and  establish  them  to  the  extent  of 
her  influence  and  means.  At  the  same  time,  far  from  arrogating  any 
merit  to  herself,  she  seemed  always  to  feel  how  much  she  was  de- 
ficient in  following  fully  the  precepts,  and  the  footsteps  of  her  belov- 
ed Lord  and  Savior,  who  went  about  doing  good. 

It  was  often  her  custom  to  leave  home  after  breakfast,  to  take  with 
her  a  few  rolls  of  bread,  and  return  in  the  evening  about  eight 
o'clock.  Her  only  dinner  on  such  days  was  her  bread,  and  perhaps 
some  soup  at  the  Soup  House,  established  by  the  Humane  Society  for 
the  poor  over  which  one  of  her  widows  had  been,  at  her  recommen- 
dation, appointed.  She  and  her  venerable  companion,  Mrs.  Sarah 
Hoffman,  second  Directress  of  the  Widow's  Society,  travelled  many 
a  day  and  many  a  step  together  in  the  walks  of  charity.  Mrs.  Gra- 
ham was  a  Presbyterian,  Mrs.  Hoffman  an  Episcopalian.  Those 
barriers,  of  which  such  a  thundering  use  has  been  made  by  sectarians 
to  separate  the  children  of  God,  fell  down  between  these  two  friends 
at  the  cry  of  affliction,  and  were  consumed  on  the  altar  of  Christian 
love.  Arm  in  arm,  and  heart  to  heart,  they  visited  the  abodes  of 
distress,  dispensing  temporal  aid  from  the  purse  of  charity,  and  spi- 
ritual comfort  from  the  word  of  life. 

At  each  annual  meeting,  Mrs.  Graham  usually  made  an  address 
to  the  society,  with  a  report  of  the  proceedings  of  the  managers, 
through  the  preceding  year.  In  April  1800,  she  stated  that  "  again 
the  pestilence  had  evacuated  the  city ;  again  every  source  of  indus- 
try was  dried  up ;  even  the  streams  of  benevolence  from  the  coun- 
try failed.  Those  storehouses  from  which  relief  was  issued  to  thou- 
sands in  former  calamities,  now  disappointed  their  hopes,  and  those 
spared  by  the  pestilence,  were  ready  to  perish  by  the  famine."  These 
distresses  were  relieved  by  the  energetic  benevolence  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  society. 

The  winter  of  1804-5  was  unusually  severe :  the  river  Hudson 
was  shut  by  frost  as  early  as  November :  fuel  was  consequently 
scarce  and  dear ;  and  the  poor  suffered  greatly.  Mrs.  Graham  vis- 
ited those  parts  of  the  city  where  the  poorer  class  of  sufferers  dwelt ; 
in  upwards  of  two  hundred  families,  she  either  found  a  Bible  their 
property,  or  gave  them  one ;  praying  with  them  in  their  affliction. 
She  requested  a  friend  to  write,  first  one  religious  tract,  and  then 
another,  suited  to  the  peculiar  situation  of  those  afflicted  people. 


MRS.    ISABELLA    GRAHAM.  413 

And  lest  it  might  be  said,  it  was  cheap  to  give  advice,  she  usually 
gave  a  small  sum  of  money  along  with  the  tracts  she  distributed. 
There  was,  at  this  time,  neither  a  Bible  nor  Tract  Society  in  New 
York.  Mrs.  Hoffman  accompanied  her  in  many  of  her  excursions. 
In  the  course  of  their  visits,  they  discovered  a  French  family  from 
St.  Domingo,  in  such  extremity  of  distress,  as  made  them  judge  it 
necessary  to  report  their  case  to  the  Honorable  Dewitt  Clinton,  then 
mayor  of  the  city.  The  situation  of  this  family  being  made  public, 
three  hundred  dollars  were  voluntarily  contributed  for  their  relief. 
Roused  by  this  incident,  a  public  meeting  was  called  at  the  Tontine 
Coffee  House,  and  committees  from  the  different  wards  were  ap- 
pointed to  aid  the  Corporation,  in  ascertaining  and  supplying  the  im- 
mediate wants  of  the  suffering  poor.  The  zeal  of  Mrs.  Graham  and 
Mrs.  Hoffman  paved  the  way  for  this  public  spirited  exertion,  which, 
probably,  was  the  means  of  saving  the  lives  of  some  of  the  destitute 
and  friendless. 

In  the  month  of  August,  1S05,  Mrs.  Graham  paid  another  visit  to 
her  friends  in  Boston,   and  spoke  of  them  with  much  affection  and 
esteem.     She  used  to  mention  with  peculiar  approbation,  a  society      3* 
of  pious  ladies  there,  who  met  once  in  every  week,  for  prayer  and 
mutual  edification. 

On  the  15th  of  March,  1806,  the  female  subscribers  to  proposals 
for  providing  an  Asylum  for  Orphan  Children  met  at  the  City  Hotel; 
Mrs.  Graham  was  called  to  the  chair,  a  society  organized,  and  a  board 
of  direction  chosen.  Mrs.  Hoffman  was  elected  the  first  directress 
of  the  Orphan  Asylum  Society.  Mrs.  Graham  continued  in  the  of- 
fice of  first  directress  of  the  Widow's  Society,  but  took  a  deep  inter- 
est in  the  success  of  the  Orphan  Asylum  Society  also :  she  or  one 
of  her  family  taught  the  orphans  daily,  until  the  funds  of  the  institu- 
tion were  sufficient  to  provide  a  teacher  and  superintendent.  She 
was  a  trustee  at  the  time  of  her  decease.  The  wish  to  establish  this 
new  society,  was  occasioned  by  the  pain  which  it  gave  the  ladies  of 
the  Widow's  Society,  to  behold  a  family  of  orphans,  driven,  on  the 
decease  of  a  widow,  to  seek  refuge  in  the  alms-house ;  no  melting 
heart  to  feel,  no  redeeming  hand  to  rescue  them  from  a  situation  so 
unpromising  for  mental  and  moral  improvement. 

The  Society  have  received  a  charter  of  incorporation  from  the 
Legislature  ;  they  have  a  handsome  seal,  with  this  inscription  :  in  as 

MUCH  AS  YE  HAVE  DONE  IT  UNTO  ONE  OF  THE  LEAST  OF  THESE, 
YE  HAVE  DONE  IT  UNTO  ME. 

For  several  years  it  wTas  customary  with  Mrs.  Graham  to  visit  the 
Hospital.  Before  the  erection  of  the  edifice  adapted  to  the  recep- 
tion of  deranged  persons,  and  called  "  the  Lunatic  Asylum,"  she 
paid  a  particular  attention  to  patients  of  this  description. 

To  the  apartments  appropriated  to  sick  female  convicts  in  the  State 
Prison,  Mrs.  Graham  also  made  many  visits.  She  met  with  some 
affecting  circumstances  amon^t  tins  class. 


414  MEMOIRS  OF 

In  the  winter  1807—8,  when  the  suspension  of  commerce  by  the 
embargo,  rendered  the  situation  of  the  poor  more  destitute  than  ev- 
er, Mrs.  Graham  adopted  a  plan  best  calculated  in  her  view  to  de- 
tect the  idle  applicant  for  charity,  and  at  the  same  time  to  furnish 
employment  for  the  more  worthy  amongst  the  female  poor.  She 
purchased  flax,  and  lent  wheels,  where  applicants  had  none.  Such 
as  were  industrious,  took  the  work  with  thankfulness,  and  were  paid 
for  it;  those  who  were  beggars  by  profession,  never  kept  their  word 
to  return  for  the  flax  or  the  wheel.  The  flax  thus  spun,  was  after- 
wards wove,  bleached,  and  made  into  table-cloths  and  towels  -for 
family  use. 

Mrs.  Graham  used  to  remark,  that  until  some  Institution  should  be 
formed  to  furnish  employment  for  industrious  poor  women,  the  work 
of  charity  would  be  incomplete.  It  was  about  this  time,  that  deem- 
ing the  duties  too  laborious  for  her  health,  she  resigned  the  office  of 
First  Directress  of  the  Widow's  Society,*  and  took  the  place  of  a 
manager.  She  afterwards  declined  this  also,  and  became  a  trustee 
of  the  Orphan  Asylum  Society,  as  more  suited  to  her  advanced  pe- 
riod of  life. 

The  delicate  state  of  health  to  which  one  of  her  grand-daughters 
was  reduced  in  1808,  made  it  necessary  for  her  to  spend  the  sum- 
mer season  for  five  successive  years  at  Rockaway  for  the  advantage 
of  sea-bathing.  Mrs.  Graham  went  with  her,  it  being  beneficial  to 
her  own  health  also.  In  this  place,  she  met  with  many  strangers  : 
the  company  residing  there,  treated  her  with  much  affection  and  res- 
pect. She  always  attended  to  the  worship  of  God  morning  and 
evening  in  her  room,  and  was  usually  accompanied  by  some  of  the 
ladies  wrho  boarded  in  the  house.  Her  fund  of  information,  vivaci- 
ty of  manner  and  the  interest  which  she  felt  in  the  happiness  of  all 
around  her,  made  her  society  highly  valued  and  pleasing.  Few  of 
those  ladies  who  stayed  with  her  at  Rockaway,  for  any  length  of  time, 
failed  to  express,  at  parting,  their  esteem  for  her,  and  they  generally 
added  a  pressing  invitation  for  a  visit  from  her,  if  ever  she  should 
travel  near  where  they  dwelt. 

In  the  year  1810,  whilst  bathing,  she  was  carried  by  the  surf,  be- 
yond her  depth,  and  for  some  time  there  was  scarcely  a  hope  of  her 
regaining  the  shore.  Her  grand-children  were  weeping  on  the  beach, 
and  the  company  assembled  there  were  afflicted  but  hopeless  spec- 
tators of  her  danger.  At  that  moment  of  peril,  she  prayed  to  the 
Lord  for  deliverance,  but  acquiesced  in  his  will,  if  he  should  see  fit 
to  take  her  to  himself  in  this  manner.  Able  to  swim  a  little,  she  kept 
herself  afloat  for  some  time ;  she  became  at  length  very  faint ;  and 
when  her  friends  on  the  beach  apprehended  her  lost,  they  perceived 
that  the  wave  had  impelled  her  somewhat  nearer  to  them.  A  gen- 
tleman present,  and  her  female  attendant  stepped  into  the  surf,  and 
extending  their  arms  for  mutual  support,  one  of  them  was  enabled  to 
lay  hold  of  Mrs.  Graham's  bathing  gown,  and  to  pull  her  towards 


MRS.    ISABELLA    GRAHAM.  415 

them.  When  they  brought  her  ashore,  she  was  much  exhausted-, 
and  had  swallowed  a  considerable  quantity  of  water.  It  was  some 
hours  before  she  revived,  when  she  addressed  the  company  in  a  very 
serious  and  impressive  manner,  that  affected  them  to  tears.  Her 
health  during  the  following  winter  was  much  impaired  by  the  shock 
it  had  received. 

In  the  year  1811,  some  gentlemen  of  New-York  established  a 
Magdalen  Society :  they  elected  a  Board  of  ladies,  requesting  their 
aid  to  superintend  the  internal  management  of  the  Magdalen  House. 
This  Board  chose  Mrs.  Graham  their  presiding  lady,  which  office 
she  held  until  her  decease  ;  the  duties  attendant  on  it  she  discharged 
with  fidelity  and  zeal.  In  1812,  the  trustees  of  the  Lancasterian 
School  solicited  the  attendance  of  several  pious  ladies,  to  give  cate- 
chetical instruction  to  their  scholars,  one  afternoon  in  every  week  : 
Mrs.  Graham  was  one  of  those  who  attended  regularly  to  this  duty. 

During  the  last  two  years  of  her  life,  she  found  her  strength  inad- 
equate to  so  extensive  a  course  of  visiting  the  poor,  as  formerly ; 
there  were  some  distressed  families,  however,  that  experienced  her 
kind  attention  to  the  last.  She  would  occasionally  accompany  the 
Rev.  Mr.  Stanford  on  his  visits  to  the  State  Prison,  Hospital,  and  to 
the  Magdalen  House.  This  gentleman  is  the  stated  preacher,  em- 
ployed by  "  the  Society  for  the  support  of  the  Gospel  among  the 
poor."  He  devotes  his  time  to  preaching  in  the  Alms  House,  Hos- 
pital, State  Prison,  Debtor's  Prison,  he.  with  great  assiduity  and  ac- 
ceptance. Mrs.  Graham  now  spent  much  of  her  time  in  her  room, 
devoted  to  meditation,  prayer,  and  reading  the  Scriptures;  she  seem- 
ed to  be  weaning  from  earth,  and  preparing  for  heaven. 

In  the  spring  of  1814  she  was  requested  to  unite  with  some  la- 
dies, in  forming  a  Society  for  the  promotion  of  Industry  amongst 
the  poor. 

The  Corporation  of  the  city  having  returned  a  favorable  answer, 
to  their  petition  for  assistance  and  provided  a  house,  a  meeting  of  the 
Society  was  held,  and  Mrs.  Graham  once  more  was  called  to  the 
chair.  It  was  the  last  time  she  was  to  preside  at  the  formation  of  a 
new  Society.  Her  articulation,  once  strong  and  clear,  was  now  ob- 
served to  have  become  more  feeble.  The  ladies  present  listened  to 
her  with  affectionate  attention ;  her  voice  broke  upon  the  ear  as  a 
pleasant  sound  that  was  passing  away.  She  consented  to  have  her 
name  inserted  in  the  list  of  managers,  to  give  what  assistance  her  age 
would  permit  in  forwarding  so  beneficent  a  work.  Although  it  pleas- 
ed God  to  make  her  cease  from  her  labors,  before  the  House  of  In- 
dustry was  opened,  yet  the  work  was  carried  on  by  others,  and  pros- 
pered. Between  four  and  five  hundred  women  were  employed  and 
paid  during  the  following  winter.  The  Corporation  declared  in  strong 
terms  their  approbation  of  the  result,  and  enlarged  their  donation, 
with  a  view  to  promote  the  same  undertaking  for  the  succeeding 
winter. 


416  MEMOIRS  or 

In  the  month  of  May,  1814,  a  Report  was  received  from  Mr.  S. 
P — ,  of  Bristol,  in  England,  of  the  Society  for  establishing  Adult 
Schools.  Mrs.  Graham  was  so  delighted  with  a  perusal  of  it,  as 
immediately  to  undertake  the  formation  of  such  a  school  in  the  vil- 
lage of  Greenwich.  She  called  on  the  young  people  who  were  at 
work  in  some  neighboring  manufactories,  and  requested  them  to  at- 
tend her  for  this  purpose  every  Sabbath  morning  at  eight  o'clock. 
This  was  kept  up  after  her  decease,  as  a  Sunday  School,  and  con- 
sisted of  nearly  eighty  scholars.  She  was  translated  from  this  work 
of  faith  on  earth,  to  engage  in  the  sublimer  work  of  praise  in  heaven. 

For  some  weeks  previous  to  her  last  illness,  she  was  favored  with 
unusual  health,  and  much  enjoyment  of  religion :  she  appeared  to 
have  sweet  exercises  and  communion  in  attending  on  all  God's  ordi- 
nances, and  appointed  means  of  grace. 

She  was  greatly  refreshed  in  spirit  by  the  success  of  Missionary 
and  Bible  Societies.  She  used  to  speak  with  much  affection  of  Mr. 
Gordon,  Mr.  Lee,  and  Mr.  May,  with  whom  she  had  been  acquaint- 
ed when  in  New  York,  on  their  way  to  missionary  stations  in  India. 
For  Dr.  Robert  Morrison,  whom  she  had  seen  in  1807,  on  his  way 
to  China,  she  entertained  a  very  high  regard.  She  wag  much  pleas- 
ed with  the  solid  talents,  ardent  piety,  and  persevering  zeal*  which 
she  discerned  in  his  character. 

On  Tuesday,  the  19th  of  July,  she  complained  of  not  feeling  well, 
and  kept  her  room;  on  Thursday,  her  disorder  proved  to  be  a  cholera 
morbus,  and  her  children  sent  for  a  physician.  She  said  this  at- 
tack was  slighter  than  in  former  seasons.  On  Saturday  however, 
she  requested  that  Mrs.  Chrystie  might  be  sent  for ;  this  alarmed 
Mrs.  Bethune,  knowing  there  existed  an  understanding  between  those 
two  friends,  that  one  should  attend  the  dying  bed  of  the  other  :  Mrs. 
Chrystie  was  a  very  dear  friend  of  Mrs.  Graham.  For  upwards  of 
twenty  four  years  they  had  loved  each  other,  feeling  reciprocal  sym- 
pathy in  their  joys  and  their  sorrows  :  the  hope  of  faith  was  the  con- 
solation of  both,  and  oftentimes  it  had  been  .their  delightful  employ- 
ment to  interchange  their  expressions  of  affection  towards  Him, 
ivhom  having  not  seen,  they  loved,  and  in  ivhom,  though  they  saw  him 
not,  yet  believing  on  him,  they  rejoiced  with  joy  unspeakable  and  full 
of  glory.  On  Mrs.  Chrystie's  entering  the  chamber  of  her  friend, 
Mrs.  Graham  welcomed  her  with  a  sweet  expressive  smile,  seeming 
to  say,  "  I  am  going  to  get  the  start  of  you,  I  am  called  home  before 
you ;  it  will  be  your  office  to  fulfill  our  engagement."  When  she 
sat  by  her  bedside,  Mrs.  Graham  said,  "  your  face  is  very  pleasant 
to  me  my  friend."  During  Saturday  night  a  lethargy  appeared  to  be 
overpowering  her  frame.  On  Sabbath  morning  she  was  disposed  to 
constant  slumber ;  observing  Mr.  Bethune,  looking  at  her  with  agita- 
tion, she  was  roused  from  her  heaviness,  and  stretching  her  arms  to- 
wards him,  and  embracing  him,  she  said,  "my  dear,  dear  son,  I  am 
going  to  leave  you,  I  am  going  to  my  Savior."     "  I  know,"  be  re- 


MRS.    ISABELLA    GRAHAM.  417 

plied,  "  that  when  you  do  go  from  us,  it  will  be  to  the  Savior ;  but 
my  dear  mother,  it  may  not  be  the  Lord's  time  now  to  call  you  to 
himself.',  "  Yes,"  said  she,  "  now  is  the  time,  and  Oh !  I  could 
weep  for  sin."  Her  words  were  accompanied  with  tears.  "  Have 
you  any  doubts  then,  my  dear  friend  ?"  asked  Mrs.  Chrystie.  "  Oh 
no,"  replied  Mrs.  Graham  :  and  looking  at  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bethune, 
as  they  wept,  "  my  dear  children,  I  have  no  more  doubt  of  going  to 
my  Savior,  than  if  I  were  already  in  his  arms ;  my  guilt  is  all  trans- 
ferred ;  he  has  cancelled  all  I  owed.  Yet  I  could  weep  for  sins 
against  so  good  a  God  :  it  seems  to  me  as  if  there  must  be  weeping 
even  in  heaven  for  sin."  After  this,  she  entered  into  conversation 
with  her  friends,  mentioning  portions  of  scripture,  and  favorite  hymns 
which  had  been  subjects  of  much  comfortable  exercise  of  mind  to 
her.  Some  of  these  she  had  transcribed  into  a  little  book,  calling 
them  her  victuals  prepared  for  crossing  over  Jordan  :  she  committed 
them  to  memory,  and  often  called  them  to  remembrance,  as  her  songs 
in  the  night,  when  sleep  had  deserted  her.  She  then  got  Mr. 
Bethune,  to  read  to  her  some  of  these  portions,  especially  the  eighty 
second  hymn  of  the  third  book  of  Newton's  hymns,  beginning  thus  : 

Let  us  love,  and  sing,  and  wonder; 
Let  us  praise  the  Savior's  name  ! 
He  has  hush'd  the  law's  loud  thunder; 
He  has  quench'd  Mount  Sinai's  flame  ; 
He  has  wash'd  us  with  his  blood  ; 
He  has  brought  us  nigh  to  God. 

Mrs.  Graham  then  fell  asleep,  nor  did  she  awaken  until  the  voice  of 
the  Rev.  Dr.  Mason  roused  her.  They  had  a  very  affectionate  in- 
terview, which  he  has  partly  described  in  the  excellent  sermon  he 
delivered  after  her  decease.  She  expressed  to  him  her  hope,  as 
founded  altogether  on  the  redemption  that  is  in  Jesus  Christ.  Were 
she  left  to  depend  on  the  merit  of  the  best  action  she  had  ever  per- 
formed, that  would  be  only  a  source  of  despair.  She  repeated  to 
him,  as  her  view  of  salvation,  the  fourth  verse  of  the  hymn  already 
quoted  : 

Let  us  wonder,  grace  and  justice 

Join,  and  point  at  mercy's  store; 
When  thro'  grace  in  Christ  our  trust  is,, 
Justice  smiles,  and  asks  no  more  ; 
He  who  wash'd  us  with  his  blood, 
Has  secur'd  our  way  to  God. 

Having  asked  Dr.  Mason  to  pray  with  her,  he  inquired  if  there  was 
any  particular  request  she  had  to  make  of  God,  by  him  ;  she  replied 
that  God  would  direct :  then  as  he  kneeled,  she  put  up  her  hands, 
and  raising  her  eyes  towards  heaven,  breathed  this  short,  but  express- 
ive petition,  "  Lord,  lead  thy  servant  in  prayer." 

After  Dr.  Mason  had  taken  his  leave,  she  again  fell  into  a  deep 
sleep.  Her  physicians  still  expressed  a  hope  of  her  recovery,  as  her 
pulse  was  regular,  and  the  violence  of  her  disease  had  abated-     One 

53 


418  MEMOIRS.    &C. 

of  them,  however,  declared  his  opinion,  that  his  poor  drugs  would 
prove  of  little  avail  against  her  own  ardent  prayers  to  depart,  and 
be  with  Christ,  which  was  far  better  for  her  than  a  return  to  a  dying 
world. 

On  Monday  the  Rev.  Mr.  Rowan  prayed  with  her,  and  to  him  she 
expressed  also  the  tranquillity  of  her  mind,  and  the  steadfastness  of 
her  hope,  through  Christ,  of  eternal  felicity. 

Her  lethargy  increased  ;  at  intervals  from  sleep,  she  would  occa- 
sionally assure  her  daughter,  Mrs.  Bethune,  that  all  was  well ;  and 
when  she  could  rouse  herself  only  to  say  one  word  at  a  time,  that 
one  word,  accompanied  with  a  smile,  was  "  Peace."  From  her, 
there  was  a  peculiar  emphasis  in  this  expression  of  the  state  of  her 
mind  ;  Peace  1  leave  with  you,  my  peace  1  give  unto  you,  had  been 
a  favorite  portion  of  scripture  with  her,  and  a  promise,  the  fulfilment 
of  which  was  her  earnest  prayer  to  the  God  who  made  it.  She  also 
occasionally  asked  Mr.  Bethune  to  pray  with  her,  even  when  she  could 
only  articulate,  as  she  looked  at  him,  "  Pray."  She  was  now  sur- 
rounded by  many  of  her  dear  Christian  friends,  who  watched  her  dy- 
ing-bed with  affection  and  solicitude.  On  Tuesday  afternoon  she 
slept  with  little  intermission.  This,  said  Dr.  Mason,  may  be  truly 
called  "  falling  asleep  in  Jesus."  It  was  remarked  by  those  who  at- 
tended her,  that  all  terror  was  taken  away,  and  that  death  seemed 
here  as  an  entrance  into  life.  Her  countenance  was  placid,  and  look- 
ed younger  than  before  her  illness. 

At  a  quarter  past  twelve  o'clock,  being  the  morning  of  the  27th  of 
July,  1814,  without  a  struggle  or  a  groan,  her  spirit  winged  its  flight 
from  a  mansion  of  clay  to  the  realms  of  glory,  whilst  around  the  pre- 
cious remnant  of  earth,  her  family  and  friends  stood  weeping,  yet  el- 
evated by  the  scene  they  were  witnessing.  After  a  silence  of  ma- 
ny minutes,  they  kneeled  by  her  bed,  adored  the  goodness  and  the 
grace  of  God  towards  his  departed  child,  and  implored  the  divine 
blessing  on  both  the  branches  of  her  family,  as  well  as  on  all  the  Is- 
rael of  God. 

Thus  she  departed  in  peace,  not  trusting  in  her  wisdom  or  vir- 
tue, like  the  Philosophers  of  Greece  and  Rome ;  not  even  like  Ad- 
dison, calling  on  the  profligate  to  see  a  good  man  die ;  but  like 
Howard,  afraid  that  her  good  works  might  have  a  wrong  place  in  the 
estimate  of  her  hope,  her  chief  glory  was  that  of  "  a  sinner  saved  by 
Grace."* 


*  This  was  Howard's  epitaph,  dictated  by  himself. 
From  the  life  of  Mrs.  Graham,  by  her  daughter  Mrs.  Bethune. 


419 


MRS.  HARRIET  NEWELL. 


The  subject  of  these  memoirs,  was  a  daughter  of  Mr.  Moses  At- 
wood,  a  merchant  of  Haverhill,  Massachusetts,  and  was  born  Octo- 
ber H)th,  1793.  She  was  naturally  of  a  cheerful  disposition,  and  in 
early  life  was  distinguished  for  her  love  of  books,  and  a  taste  for 
reading,  which  led  her  to  the  acquisition  of  much  useful  knowledge. 
To  secure  to  her  the  advantage  of  a  liberal  and  solid  education,  she 
was,  in  her  thirteenth  year,  placed  at  an  academy  of  high  reputation 
at  Bradford,  not  far  from  her  native  town.  At  this  place,  distin- 
guished in  the  religious  experience  of  many  eminent  Christians,  as 
the  place  where  they  first  obtained  a  saving  knowledge  of  divine 
things,  her  attention  was  turned,  with  several  of  her  companions  in 
study,  to  the  importance  and  necessity  of  that  change  of  purpose 
and  feeling,  by  which  alone  the  soul  is  fitted  for  the  joys  of  heaven. 
This  was  in  the  summer  of  1806,  at  a  time  of  genera]  attention  to 
religion.  A  large  number  of  her  companions  of  L>oth  sexes,  with 
whom  she  had  associated,  were  in  deep  distress  for  their  immortal 
souls.  Many  who  were  formerly  gay  and  thoughtless  were  now  in 
tears,  anxiously  inquiring  what  they  should  do  to  be  saved.  Her 
mind  was  still  more  earnestly  fixed  on  these  things  by  the  perusal  of 
Doddridge's  Sermons  to  Young  People.  These  she  much  admired, 
and  spoke  with  delight  of  the  benefit  she  derived  from  them. 

But  before  she  indulged  a  hope  that  she  was  a  subject  of  spiritual 
renovation,  she  had  a  long  season  of  distressing  conviction,  careful 
self-examination,  and  earnest  prayer.  She  could  not  admit  the  com- 
fortable conclusion  that  she  was  born  again,  before  she  was  conscious 
that  she  had  given  herself  to  the  Lord,  and  yielded  sincere  obedi- 
ence to  his  holy  commands.  And  when  at  length  she  felt  that  she 
had  secured  the  one  thing  needful,  in  gratitude  for  the  fruition  of 
that  true  joy  never  found  but  in  the  exercise  of  religion,  she  resolved 
to  devote  the  remainder  of  her  life  entirely  to  the  service  of  God. 
Long  before  she  thought  her  own  salvation  secure,  she  began  to  ex- 
ercise an  enlarged  affection  for  the  kingdom  of  Christ,  and  to  be  fer- 
vent in  her  prayers  for  the  building  up  of  Zion,  and  the  salvation  of 
the  heathen.  And  now  that  all  her  views  and  wishes  were  turned, 
this  became  the  prominent  feature  of  her  religion — the  supreme  ob- 
ject of  her  pursuits. 

Though  not  yet  thirteen  years  old,  the  deep  religious  impressions 
here  made  on  her  mind,  were  never  effaced,  and  in  them  was  laid 
the  foundation  of  her  Christian  life.  She  remained  in  Bradford 
Academy  about  one  year  and  three  months,  and  while  there  retain- 


420  MEMOIRS  OF 

ed  her  first  religious  feelings  in  full  strength.  The  warmth  of  her 
first  sentiment  was  doubtless  kept  up  in  her  heart  by  the  influence 
and  example  of  many  of  her  companions  in  the  academy,  who  had 
begun  the  Christian  course  at  the  same  time  with  her,  and  who  went 
on  together  mutually  cheered  and  encouraged.  It  was  customary 
for  those  in  the  academy  whose  thoughts  were  turned  to  religious 
subjects,  to  maintain  a  familiar  correspondence  with  each  other,  com- 
municating to  each  other  the  substance  of  their  meditations,  in  epis- 
tolary style.  Among  the  friends  at  Bradford,  with  whom  Harriet 
Atwood  loved  to  correspond,  and  mingle  sacred  discourse,  was  Miss 
Fanny  Woodbury,  whose  eminence  for  piety  has  occasioned  a  brief 
sketch  of  her  life  in  the  pages  of  this  work.  A  very  frequent  and 
affectionate  correspondence  was  continued  between  the  two  friends, 
after  they  left  the  academy,  and  returned  to  their  respective  homes. 
The  ardent  piety  which  distinguished  them  both  was  no  doubt 
strengthened  and  enlarged  by  the  interchange  of  sympathetic  feeling 
on  the  subject. 

From  some  passages  in  her  diary  and  letters,  it  appears,  that  dur- 
ing the  year  1808,  she  was  in  a  state  of  religious  declension  and 
darkness.  According  to  the  statement  of  one  who  was  competent 
to  testify,  "  She  appeared  gradually  to  lose  her  fondness  for  retire- 
ment, and  her  delight  in  the  scriptures,  and  associated  more  freely 
with  her  former  gay  companions.  Yet  nothing  was  manifested, 
which  afforded  any  just  ground  for  suspecting  her  sincerity." 

But  this  lamb,  which  had  once  been  gathered  to  the  fold  of  Christ, 
was  not  thus  left  to  wander  back  into  the  world's  wilderness.  In  her 
diary,  under  date  of  July  1,  1809,  she  says, 

"  God  has  been  pleased  in  infinite  mercy,  again  to  call  up  my  at- 
tention to  eternal  realities.  After  spending  more  than  a  year  in  the 
vanities  of  the  world — thoughtless  and  unconcerned  respecting  my 
eternal  welfare ;  he  has,  as  I  humbly  trust,  showed  me  my  awful 
backslidings  from  him,  and  my  dependence  on  his  grace  for  every 
blessing. 

"  I  do  now,  in  the  strength  of  Jesus,  resolve  that  I  will  no  longer 
sacrifice  my  immortal  soul  for  what  I  have  hitherto  deemed  my  tem- 
poral happiness.  O  that  I  might  be  enabled  to  come  out  from  the 
world,  and  to  profess  Christ  as  my  Redeemer  before  multitudes. 
I  now  see  that  I  have  enjoyed  no  happiness  in  my  pursuit  of  world- 
ly pleasure.  Not  in  the  play-room — not  in  the  vain  and  idle  con- 
versation of  my  companions — not  in  the  bustle  of  a  crowded  life, 
have  I  found  happiness.  This  heaven-born  guest  is  found  only  in 
the  bosom  of  the  child  of  Jesus.  How  awfully  aggravated  will  be 
my  condemnation,  if  I  do  not,  after  this  second  call,  awaken  all  my 
drowsy  faculties,  and  become  earnestly  engaged  for  God !" 

She  did  not  neglect  this  second  call,  but  arose  in  the  strength  of 
new  life,  and  turned  again  to  the  path  which  she  had  so  early  trod, 
in  the  following  month3  she  joined  herself  to  the  church  in  her  na- 


MRS.    HARRIET    NEWELL.  421 

tive  place,  publicly  professing  her  faith  in  Christ.  We  here  subjoin 
the  following  summary  account  of  her  religious  exercises,  found 
among  her  private  papers. 

11  August  21th,  1S09. — A  review  of  past  religious  experience  1 
have  often  found  useful  aud  encouraging.  On  this  account,  I  have 
written  down  the  exercises  of  my  mind,  hoping  that,  by  frequently 
reading  them,  I  may  be  led  to  adore  the  riches  of  sovereign  grace, 
praise  the  Lord  for  his  former  kindness  to  me,  and  feel  encouraged 
to  persevere  in  a  holy  life. 

"  The  first  ten  years  of  my  life  were  spent  in  vanity.     I  was  en- 
tirely ignorant  of  the   depravity  of  my  heart.     The  summer  that  I 
entered  my  eleventh  year,  I  attended  a  dancing  school.     My  con- 
science would  sometimes  tell  me,  that  my  time  was  foolishly  spent, 
and  though  I  had  never  heard  it  intimated,  that  such  amusements 
were  criminal,  yet  I  could  not  rest,  until  I  had  solemnly  determined 
that,  when  the  school  closed,  I  would  immediately  become  religious. 
But  these  resolutions  were  not  carried  into  effect.     Although  I  at- 
tended every  day  to  secret  prayer,  and  read  the  Bible  with  greater 
attention  than  before,  yet  I  soon  became  weary  of  these  exercises, 
and,  by  degrees,  omitted  entirely  the  duties  of  the  closet.     When  I 
entered  my  thirteenth  year,  I  was  sent  by  my  parents  to  the  Acade- 
my at  Bradford.     A  revival  of  religion  commenced  in  the  neighbor- 
hood, which  in  a  short  time  spread   into  the  school.     A  large  num- 
ber of  the  young  ladies  were  anxiously  inquiring,  what  they  should 
do  to  inherit  eternal  life.     I  began  to  inquire,   what  these  things 
meant  ?     My  attention  was  solemnly  called  to  the  concerns  of  my 
immortal  soul.     I  was  a  stranger  to  hope ;  and  I  feared  the  ridicule 
of  my  gay  companions.     My  heart  was  opposed  to  the  character  of 
God ;  and  I  felt  that,  if  I  continued  an  enemy  to  his  government,  I 
must  eternally  perish.     My  convictions  of  sin  were  not  so  pungent 
and  distressing,   as  many  have  had ;  but  they  were  of  long  continu- 
ance.    It  was  more  than  three  months,  before  I  was  brought  to  cast 
my  soul  on  the  Savior  of  sinners,   and  rely  on  him  alone  for  salva- 
tion.    The  ecstacies,  which  many  new-born  souls  possess,  were  not 
mine.     But  if  I  was  not  lost  in  raptures  on  reflecting  upon  what  I 
had  escaped,  I  was  filled  with  a  sweet  peace,  a  heavenly  calmness, 
which  I  never  can  describe.     The  honors,   applauses,   and  titles  of 
this  vain  world  appeared  like  trifles  light  as  air.     The  character  of 
Jesus  appeared  infinitely  lovely,  and  I  could  say  with  the  Psalmist, 
whom  have  I  in  heaven  but  thee  ?  and  there  is  none  on  earth  I  de- 
sire besides  thee.     The  awful  gulf  I  had  escaped,  filled  me  with  as- 
tonishment.    My  gay  associates  were  renounced,  and  the  friends  of 
Jesus  became  my  dear  friends.     The  destitute,  broken  state  of  the 
church  at  Haverhill  prevented  me   from  openly  professing  my  faith 
in  Jesus ;  but  it  was  a  privilege,  which  1  longed  to  enjoy. 

But  alas  !  these  seasons  so  precious  did  not  long  continue.     Soon 
was  T  led  to  exclaim,   Oh  that  I  were  as  in  months  past !     My  zeal 


422  MEMOIRS  OF 

for  the  cause  of  religion  almost  entirely  abated ;  while  this  vain 
world  engrossed  my  affections,  which  had  been  consecrated  to  my 
Redeemer.  My  Bible,  once  so  lovely,  was  entirely  neglected. 
Novels  and  romances  engaged  my  thoughts,  and  hour  after  hour  was 
foolishly  and  sinfully  spent  in  the  perusal  of  them.  The  company 
of  Christians  became,  by  degrees,  irksome  and  unpleasant.  I  en- 
deavored to  shun  them.  The  voice  of  conscience  would  frequently 
whisper,  "  all  is  not  right."  Many  a  sleepless  night  have  I  passed, 
after  a  day  of  vanity  and  sin.  But  such  conflicts  did  not  bring  me 
home  to  the  fold,  from  which,  like  a  stray  lamb,  I  had  wandered  far 
away.  A  religion,  which  was  intimately  connected  with  the  amuse- 
ments of  the  world,  and  the  friendship  of  those  who  are  at  enmity 
with  God,  would  have  suited  well  my  depraved  heart.  But  I  knew 
that  the  religion  of  the  gospel  was  vastly  different.  It  exalts  the 
Creator,  while  it  humbles  the  creature  in  the  dust. 

"  Such  was  my  awful  situation  !  I  lived  only  to  wound  the  cause 
of  my  ever  blessed  Savior.  Weep,  oh  my  soul !  when  contempla- 
ting and  recording  these  sins  of  my  youth.  Be  astonished  at  the 
long  suffering  of  Jehovah !  How  great  a  God  is  our  God  !  The 
death  of  a  beloved  parent  and  uncle  had  but  little  effect  on  my 
hard  heart.  Though  these  afflictions  moved  my  passions,  they  did 
not  lead  me  to  the  fountain  of  consolation.  But  God,  who  is  rich  in 
mercy,  did  not  leave  me  here  !  He  had  prepared  my  heart  to  re- 
ceive his  grace ;  and  he  glorified  the  riches  of  his  mercy,  by  carry- 
ing on  the  work.  I  was  providentially  invited  to  visit  a  friend  in 
Newburyport.  I  complied  with  the  invitation.  The  evening  pre- 
vious to  my  return  home,  I  heard  the  Rev.  Mr.  McF.  It  was  the 
2Sth  of  June,  1809.  How  did  the  truths,  which  he  delivered,  sink 
deep  into  my  inmost  soul !  My  past  transgressions  rose  like  great 
mountains  before  me.  The  most  poignant  anguish  seized  my  mind ; 
my  carnal  security  fled ;  and  I  felt  myself  a  guilty  transgressor,  na- 
ked before  a  holy  God.  Mr.  B.  returned  with  me  the  next  day  to 
Haverhill.  Never,  no  never,  while  memory  retains  her  seat  in  my 
breast,  shall  I  forget  the  affectionate  manner  in  which  he  addressed 
me.  His  conversation  had  the  desired  effect.  I  then  made  the 
solemn  resolution,  as  1  trust,  in  the  strength  of  Jesus,  that  I  would 
make  a  sincere  dedication  of  my  all  to  my  Creator,  both  for  time 
and  eternity.  This  resolution  produced  a  calm  serenity  and  com- 
posure, to  which  I  had  long  been  a  stranger.  How  lovely  the  way 
of  salvation  then  appeared  !  Oh  how  lovely  was  the  character  of 
the  Savior !  The  duty  of  professing  publicly  on  which  side  I  was, 
now  was  impressed  on  my  mind.  I  came  forward,  and  offered  my- 
self to  the  church  ;  was  accepted  ;  received  into  communion ;  and 
commemorated,  for  the  first  time,  the  dying  love  of  the  blessed  Je- 
sus, August  6th,  1809.  This  was  a  precious  season,  long  to  be  re- 
membered !  Oh  the  depths  of  sovereign  grace  !  Eternity  will  be 
too  short  to  celebrate  the  perfections  of  God. 

Harriet  Atwood." 


MRS.    HARRIET    NEWELL,  423 

Thus  she  continued  after  this  new  consecration  of  herself  to  God, 
growing  each  day  in  grace  and  strengthening  in  the  resolution  to  de- 
vote herself  to  his  cause,  till  she  became  acquainted  with  Mr.  Sam- 
uel Newell,  a  licensed  preacher  of  the  gospel,  who  had  resolved  to 
labor  among  the  heathen,  as  soon  as  funds  could  be  raised  to  support 

a   foreign  mission.     Miss  Atwood  thus  mentions  the  incident  in  her 
o 

diary. 

Oct.  23,  1810.— Mr.  M.  introduced  Mr.' N.  to  our  family.  He 
appears  to  be  an  engaged  Christian.  Expects  to  spend  his  life,  in 
preaching  a  Savior  to  the  benighted  pagans. 

Oct.  31. — Mr.  N.  called  on  us  this  morning.  He  gave  me  some 
account  of  the  dealings  of  God  with  his  soul.  If  such  a  man  who 
has  devoted  himself  to  the  service  of  the  gospel,  has  determined  to 
labor  in  the  most  difficult  part  of  the  vineyard,  and  is  willing  to  re- 
nounce his  earthly  happiness  for  the  interest  of  religion  ;  if  he  doubts 
his  possessing  love  to  God  ; — what  shall  1  say  of  myself  V 

The  acquaintance  thus  begun  soon  ripened  into  an  intimacy,  which 
a  few  months  after  resulted  in  a  proposal  of  marriage  from  Mr. 
Newell.     We  give  the  account  of  it  in  her  own  words. 

April  17,  1S11. — How  shall  I  record  the  events  of  this  day  !  how 
can  I  tranquilize  my  disturbed  mind  enough  to  engage  in  the  once 
delightful  employment  of  writing  ?  I  returned  from  Boston  in  the  eve- 
ning, after  spending  three  days  very  agreeably  with  my  friends  C, 
and  N.  M.  handed  me  a  letter  with  an  appearance  that  indicated 
that  something  unusual  was  contained  in  it.     I  broke  the  seal,  and 

what  were  my  emotions,  when  I  read  the  name  of .     This  was 

not  a  long  wished  for  letter, — no,  it  was  a  long  dreaded  one,  which, 
I  was  conscious,  would  involve  me  in  doubts,  anxiety  and  distress, 
Nor  were  the  contents  such,  as  I  might  answer  at  a  distant  pe- 
riod ; — they  required  an  immediate  answer.  And  now  what  shall  I 
say  ?  how  shall  I  decide  this  important,  this  interesting  question  ? — 
shall  I  consent  to  leave  forever  the  Parent  of  my  youth  ;  the  friends 
of  my  life ;  the  dear  scenes  of  my  childhood,  and  my  native  coun- 
try ;  and  go  to  a  land  of  strangers,  "  not  knowing  the  things  that 
shall  befal  me  there  ?"  O  for  direction  from  heaven !  "  O  for 
that  wisdom  which  is  profitable  to  direct !"  1  go  to  God,  and  with 
an  unprejudiced  mind,  seek  his  guidance.  I  will  cast  this  heavy 
burden  on  him,  humbly  trusting  that  he  will  sustain  me,  and  direct 
me  in  the  path  of  duty. 

April  19. — The  important  decision  is  not  yet  made.  I  am  still 
wavering.  1  long  to  see  and  converse  with  my  dear  mother !  so 
delicate  is  my  situation,  that  I  dare  not  unbosom  my  heart  to  a  single 
person.  What  shall  I  do  !  could  tears  direct  me  in  the  path  of  duty, 
surely  I  should  be  directed.  My  heart  aches ;— I  know  not  what  to 
do  ! — "  Guide  me,  O  thou  great  Jehovah." 

April  21. — Have  now  retired  to  my  chamber,  once  more  to  vent, 
in  silence,  my  unavailing  sighs,  and  with  an  almost  bursting  heart, 
implore  divine  relief  and  direction. 


424  MEMOIRS   OF 

I  shall  go  home  on  Tuesday.-— Never  did  I  so  greatly  long  to  visit 
the  dear  native  dwelling. 

April  22. — Perhaps  my  dear  mother  will  immediately  say,  Harriet 
shall  never  go.  Well  if  this  should  be  the  case,  my  duty  would  be 
plain.  I  cannot  act  contrary  to  the  advice  and  express  commands 
of  a  pious  mother. 

May,  1811. — Returning  to  Haverhill,  I  found  my  dear  mama 
calm  and  composed.  So  completely  was  she  filled  with  a  sense  of 
the  shortness  of  time,  the  uncertainty  of  life,  and  the  duty  of  giv- 
ing up  our  dearest  comforts  to  the  Lord,  that  she  never  raised  one 
objection,  but  wished  me  to  act  as  my  conscience  directed.  I  felt 
an  unspeakable  consolation  in  committing  the  disposal  of  this  event 
to  God.  I  thought  I  could  willingly  renounce  my  own  opinion,  and  sit- 
ting at  the  feet  of  Jesus,  be  guided  entirely  by  him.  Mr.  N.  has  vis- 
ited us  frequently.  He  wishes  not  to  influence  me ;  he  would  not  if 
he  could. 

Should  I  refuse  to  make  this  sacrifice,  refuse  to  lend  my  little  aid 
in  the  promulgation  of  the  Gospel  among  the  heathen,  how  could  I 
ever  expect  to  enjoy  the  blessing  of  God,  and  peace  of  conscience, 
though  surrounded  with  every  temporal  mercy?  it  would  be  pleasant 
to  spend  the  remaining  part  of  my  life  with  my  friends,  and  to  have 
them  surround  my  dying  bed.  But  no !  I  must  relinquish  their  so- 
ciety, and  follow  God  to  a  land  of  strangers,  where  millions  of  my 
fellow  sinners  are  perishing  for  lack  of  vision.  I  have  professed,  for 
these  two  years  past,  to  derive  comfort  only  from  God. — Here,  then 
is  a  consoling  reflection,  that  the  ever  blessed  Jesus  is  able  to  support 
and  comfort  me,  as  well  in  the  sultry  climes  of  India,  as  in  my  dear 
native  land.  I  trust  that  he  will  make  his  promise  good,  that  as  my 
day  is,  so  shall  my  strength  be.  The  wintry  storms  of  life  will  soon 
be  over ;  and  if  I  have  committed  my  immortal  interest  into  the 
hands  of  God,  I  shall  shortly  find  a  sweet  release  from  every  woe. — 
So  visibly  have  I  beheld  the  hand  of  Providence  in  removing  some 
obstacles,  which  once  I  thought  almost  insurmountable,  that  I  dare  not 
object.  All  my  friends,  with  whom  I  have  conversed  since  my  re- 
turn to  Haverhill,  advise  me  to  go.  Some  Christians,  who  were  for- 
merly opposed,  after  obtaining  a  more  extensive  knowledge  of  the 
subject,  think  females  would  be  useful.  The  people  of  this  world 
probably  view  this  subject  as  they  do  others.  Those  who  have  nev- 
er felt  the  worth  of  their  own  souls,  account  it  superstition  and  hypo- 
critic  zeal,  for  Christians  to  sacrifice  their  earthly  pleasures,  for  the 
sake  of  telling  the  heathen  world  of  a  Savior.  But  all  the  ridicule 
that  the  gay  and  thoughtless  sinner  can  invent,  will  not  essentially  in- 
jure me.  If  I  am  actuated  by  love  to  the  Savior  and  his  cause,  no- 
thing on  earth  or  hell  can  hurt  me.  Perhaps  my  views  of  this  sub- 
ject may  be  altered  ;  and  God  may  yet  prepare  a  way  for  me  to  con- 
tinue in  America.  O,  that  I  might  be  submissive,  and  humbly  wait 
on  God.  He  can  direct  me  at  this  eventful  crisis,  and  glorify  him- 
self. 


MRS.    HARRIET    NEWELL.  425 

After  her  engagement,  she  remained  at  home  for  several  months, 
while  Mr.  Newell  was  in  Philadelphia  gaining  some  knowledge  of 
medicine  that  might  be  useful  to  him.  The  following  extracts  from 
a  letter  which  she  wrote  to  him  while  there,  expresses  her  views  of 
the  undertaking  to  which  she  was  pledged. 

Haverhill,  July  16,  1811. — "  With  respect  to  the  mission,  my 
mind  has  never  been  so  solemnly  impressed,  as  since  you  left  me. 
Various  indeed  have  been  my  feelings.  I  fear  I  have  not  thought 
enough  of  the  most  important  qualification  of  all,  viz.  a  heart  wholly 
devoted  to  God.  Sometimes,  when  reflecting  on  this  subject,  I 
think  I  shall  welcome  the  day,  which  will  land  me  on  India's  shores, 
that  I  may  have  an  opportunity  of  telling  those  dear  benighted  fe- 
males, what  I  have  felt  of  a  Savior's  love,  and  of  the  worth  of  his 
blessed  gospel.  At  other  times,  a  sense  of  the  dangers  and  hazards 
of  a  missionary  life  quite  depresses  my  spirits,  and  deprives  me  of 
every  enjoyment.  Is  it  a  delusion,  or  do  I  really  feel  willing  to  sac- 
rifice the  pleasures  and  comforts  of  life,  which  I  might  enjoy  in  my 
native  country,  and  unite  with  the  few  dear  brethren  and  sisters,  in 
using  my  feeble  efforts  to  christianize  the  heathen  ? — but  I  cannot 
bear  the  idea  that  my  going  should  be  attended  with  so  many  anxie- 
ties on  your  part.* 

"You  fear  that  I  shall  lose  my  courage,  and  look  back  with  longing 
desires  towards  America. — This  I  likewise  fear.  But  that  God  who 
has  said  that  his  grace  shall  be  sufficient  for  his  children,  will  in  an- 
swer to  sincere  prayer,  grant  me  new  resolution,  and  fresh  supplies 
of  strength.  "  From  God  is  all  my  aid."  O  pray  for  me,  that 
I  may  be  furnished  with  every  needful  qualification." 

July  23. — I  have  just  read  a  passage  in  Thomson's  Seasons, 
which  I  thought  I  could  adopt  as  my  own  language. 

"Should  fate  command  me  to  the  farthest  verge 
Of  the  green  earth,  to  distant  barbarous  climes, 
Rivers  unknown  to  song ;  where  first  the  sun 
Gilds  Indian  mountains,  or  his  setting  beam 
Flames  on  the  Atlantic  Isles  !  'tis  nought  to  me, 
Since  God  is  ever  present — ever  just, 
In  the  void  waste  as  in  the  city  full, 
And  where  he  vital  breathes,  there  must  be  joy." 


*  The  following  note  to  this  letter,  afterwards  written  by  Mr.  Newell  to  his  friends 
explains  the  language  here  employed. 

"  My  mind,  you  all  know,  was  much  tried  on  this  subject  before  we  left  America. 
I  once  communicated  my  anxieties  on  this  point,  to  a  confidential  friend,  to  which  he 
replied  in  these  words  :  "  a  little  slender  female,  may  endure  losses  and  sufferings  as 
cheerfully  and  resolutely  as  an  apostle.  The  lovely  humility  and  meekness  of  a 
christian  woman,  are  sometimes  connected  with  a  tranquillity  of  mind  that  no  ca- 
lamities can  ruffle,  and  a  firmness  that  no  danger  or  distress  can  subdue.  The  time 
may  come  when  your  courage  will  sink,  and  when  the  cheerfulness  and  resolution 
of  your  Harriet  will  at  once  astonish  and  animate  you."— I  have  to  acknowledge 
that  these  predictions,  (if  I  may  so  call  them,)  have  been  more  than  once  literally 
fulfilled"  * 

54 


426  MEMOIRS    OF 

She  was  married  to  Mr.  Newell,  in  the  beginning  of  February 
1812,  who  was  ordained  as  a  missionary  to  India,  with  Messrs.  Jud- 
son,  Nott,  Hall  and  Rice,  at  Salem,  Feb.  6.  On  the  19th  of  the 
same  month,  Messrs.  Newell  and  Judson,  with  their  wives  sailed 
from  Salem  in  the  brig  Caravan  for  Calcutta. 

After  a  voyage  of  one  hundred  and  eighteen  days,  they  landed  at 
Calcutta,  where  they  were  cordially  welcomed  by  the  English  mis- 
sionaries, Carey,  Marshman  and  Ward ;  and  soon  after,  by  invitation, 
fixed  their  temporary  residence  at  Serampore,  the  head  quarters  of 
the  English  Baptist  mission  in  India.  The  American  missionaries 
expected  to  begin  their  labors  among  the  heathen  natives,  as  soon 
as  they  could  find  a  convenient  place  for  a  beginning.  But  by  the 
tyrannical  conduct  of  the  English  East  India  company,  so  infamous 
as  the  despots  of  India,  they  were  forbidden  to  proceed  and  were 
ordered  to  return  to  America  in  the  same  vessel  in  which  they  came. 
But  they  were  determined  that  they  would  not  thus  give  up  the  noble 
work  to  which  they  had  solemnly  dedicated  their  lives,  and  though 
driven  from  British  India,  they  sought  other  fields  where  there  was 
need,  and  room  for  the  gospel. 

The  missionaries  separated  to  different  fields  of  labor,  and  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Newell  embarked  for  the  Isle  of  France,  on  the  fourth  of  Au- 
gust, 1812.  The  narrative  of  the  distressing  events  of  the  voyage 
is  best  given  in  the  words  of  Mr.  Newell's  letter  to  Mrs.  Atwood, 
the  mother  of  his  wife. 

"  Harriet  enjoyed  good  health  from  the  time  we  left  you,  until  we 
embarked  on  our  voyage  from  Calcutta  to  the  Isle  of  France.  The 
fatigue  of  riding  in  a  palanquin,  in  that  unhealthy  place,  threw  her 
into  a  fever  which  commenced  the  day  after  we  were  on  board.  She 
was  confined  about  a  week  to  her  couch,  but  afterward  recovered 
and  enjoyed  pretty  good  health.  We  left  Calcutta  on  the  4th  of 
August,  but  on  account  of  contrary  winds  and  bad  weather,  we  were 
driven  about  in  the  bay  of  Bengal,  without  making  much  progress 
during  the  whole  of  that  month.  On  or  about  the  27th,  it  was  dis- 
covered that  the  vessel  had  sprung  a  leak ;  and  on  the  30th  the  leak 
had  increased  to  such  an  alarming  degree,  as  to  render  our  situation 
extremely  perilous.  A  consultation  of  the  officers  was  called,  and 
it  was  determined  to  put  about  immediately,  and  make  the  nearest 
port,  which  was  Coringa,  a  small  town  on  the  Coromandel  coast, 
about  sixty  miles  south  of  Vizigapatam.  We  got  safe  into  port  on 
Saturday,  September  5th." 

[On  the  19th  of  September  they  re-embarked,  and  Mrs.  N.  en- 
joyed comfortable  health,  till  nearly  three  weeks  after  leaving  Coringa, 
and  about  three  weeks  before  reaching  the  Isle  of  France,  when  she 
became  the  joyful  mother  of  a  daughter.  Four  days  after,  in  con- 
sequence of  a  severe  storm  of  wind  and  rain,  the  child  took  cold, 
and  died  on  the  evening  of  the  next  day.] 

"  About  a  week  after  Mrs.  N.'s  confinement,"  says  Mr.  N.,  "  I 
first  perceived  the  symptoms  of  that  disorder,  which  terminated  in 


MRS.  HARRIET  NEWELL.  427 

her  death.  She  immediately  recognized  the  disease  of  which  her 
father,  and  several  other  of  her  family  connexions  died,  and  was  con- 
fident she  should  never  recover.  I  endeavored  to  raise  her  hopes, 
and  encouraged  her  to  expect  much  from  a  change  of  situation. 
But  she  wished  me  to  dismiss  all  expectations  of  her  recovery,  and 
to  prepare  my  mind,  and  help  her  to  prepare  her  own,  for  the  sol- 
emn event.  She  told  me  she  had  some  doubts  respecting  her  state. 
Yet  she  was  by  no  means  alarmed  at  the  idea  of  death,  but  was  calm, 
patient,  and  resigned.  During  the  last  week  of  our  passage  she  read 
through  the  Book  of  Job,  and,  as  she  afterwards  told  me,  '  found 
sweet  relief  from  every  fear  in  submitting  to  a  sovereign  God ;'  and 
could  not  refrain  from  tears  of  joy,  that  God  should  give  her  so  com- 
fortable views  of  death  and  eternity.  Her  health  continued  uniform- 
ly in  a  declining  state,  and  the  symptoms  of  a  settled  consumption 
grew  every  day  more  and  more  apparent." 

[Though  Mr.  N.  feared  the  worst,  he  did  not  consider  her  case 
as  fatal,  till  the  last  fortnight  of  her  life,  which  commenced  about  ten 
days  after  their  arrival  at  the  Isle  of  France.  Mr.  N.  immediately 
on  their  arrival,  called  in  the  aid  of  Dr.  B.,  the  chief  surgeon  of  the 
British  army  in  that  island,  and  Dr.  W.,  a  Danish  physician,  a  friend 
with  whom  they  had  become  acquainted  at  Serampore.  There  was 
but  little  alteration  in  Mrs.  N.'s  health,  (excepting  that  she  gradually 
lost  strength,)  till  about  a  fortnight  before  her  death,  when  she  de- 
clined more  rapidly,  and  all  hope  of  her  recovery  was  extinguished. 
About  four  o'clock,  P.  M.,  on  Monday,  Nov.  30,  1812,  her  eyesight 
failed  her,  soon  after  which,  she  calmly,  and  with  apparent  ease,  ex- 
pired, seven  weeks  and  four  days  after  her  confinement.  These 
events,  with  all  the  attending  circumstances,  are  related  by  Mr.  N. 
with  great  tenderness  and  particularity.    He  then  proceeds  as  follows :] 

"  There,  my  dear  mother,  I  have  finished  the  story  of  Harriet's 
sufferings.  Let  us  turn  from  the  tale  of  wo  to  a  brighter  scene  ;  one 
that  will  gladden  your  heart,  as  I  am  sure  it  does  mine.  During  this 
long  series  of  sufferings,  she  meekly  yielded  to  the  will  of  her  Heav- 
enly Father,  without  one  murmuring  word.  ■  My  wicked  heart,'  she 
writes,  is  inclined  to  think  it  hard,  that  I  should  suffer  such  fatigue 
and  hardship.  I  sinfully  envy  those,  whose  lot  it  is  to  live  in  tran- 
quillity on  land.  Happy  people  !  Ye  know  not  the  toils  and  trials 
of  voyages  across  the  rough  and  stormy  deep.  O  for  a  little  Indian 
hut  on  land.  But  hush,  my  warring  passions ;  it  is  for  Jesus,  who 
sacrificed  the  joys  of  his  Father's  kingdom,  and  expired  on  a  cross 
to  redeem  a  fallen  world,  that  thus  I  wander  from  place  to  place,  and 
feel  nowhere  at  home.  How  reviving  the  thought !  How  great  the 
consolation  it  yields  to  my  sinking  heart !  I  will  cherish  it,  and  yet 
be  happy." 

"  In  the  first  part  of  the  sickness  which  succeeded  the  birth  of  our 
babe,  she  had  some  doubts  which  occasionally  interrupted  her  spirit- 
ual comfort ;  but  they  were  soon  removed,  and  her  mind  was  filled 
with  that  peace  of  God,  which  passeth  all  understanding. 


428  MEMOIRS    OF 

"  I  finally  became  convinced  that  she  was  far  gone  in  a  consump- 
tion, and  told  her  I  feared  she  would  find  a  grave  in  the  Isle  of 
France.  She  seemed  to  be  relieved  of  a  heavy  burden,  when  I  gave 
her  this  intelligence.  From  this  time  we  conversed  constantly,  and 
with  the  greatest  freedom  and  plainness,  respecting  her  death,  which 
we  now  considered  as  certain,  and  near  at  hand.  When  she  per- 
ceived me  sorrowful,  she  would,  with  a  smiling  countenance  and 
cheerful  voice,  endeavor  to  animate  me  with  the  prospect  of  a  speedy 
reunion  in  a  world  where  we  should  part  no  more. 

"  When  1  asked  her,  a  few  days  before  she  died,  if  she  had  any  re- 
maining doubts  respecting  her  spiritual  state,  she  answered  with  an 
emphasis  that  she  had  none.  During  the  whole  of  her  sickness,  she 
talked  in  the  most  familiar  manner,  and  with  great  delight,  of  death, 
and  the  glory  that  was  to  follow.  When  Dr.  B.  one  day  told  her, 
those  were  gloomy  thoughts,  she  had  better  get  rid  of  them,  she  re- 
plied, that,  on  the  contrary,  they  were  to  her  cheering  and  joyful,  be- 
yond what  she  could  express.  WThen  I  attempted  to  persuade  her 
that  she  would  recover,  (which  I  fondly  hoped,)  it  seemed  to  strike 
her  like  a  disappointment.  She  would  say,  4  You  ought  rather  to 
pray  that  I  may  depart,  that  I  may  be  perfectly  free  from  sin,  and  be 
where  God  is.' 

"  Her  mind  was  from  day  to  day  filled  with  the  most  comforting 
and  delightful  views  of  the  character  of  God  and  Christ.  She  often 
requested  me  to  talk  to  her  on  these  interesting  subjects.  She  told 
me  that  her  thoughts  were  so  much  confused,  and  her  mind  so  much 
weakened,  by  the  distress  of  body  she  had  suffered,  that  she  found 
it  difficult  steadily  to  pursue  a  train  of  thoughts  on  divine  things,  but 
that  she  continually  looked  to  God,  and  passively  rested  on  him.  She 
often  spoke  of  meeting  her  friends  in  heaven.  '  Perhaps,'  said  she, 
6  my  dear  mother  has  gone  before  me  to  heaven,  and  as  soon  as  I 
leave  this  body,  I  shall  find  myself  with  her.'  At  another  time  she 
said, c  We  often  talk  of  meeting  our  friends  in  heaven;  but  what  would 
heaven  be  with  all  our  friends,  if  God  were  not  there  ?' 

"  She  longed  exceedingly  for  the  brethren  to  arrive  from  India, 
that  we  might  form  ourselves  into  a  church,  and  celebrate  the  dying 
love  of  Jesus  once  more  before  she  died.  Her  desires  to  enjoy  the 
benefit  of  this  ordinance  were  so  strong,  and  our  situation  so  peculiar, 
that  I  thought  a  deviation  from  the  usage  of  our  churches  in  this  in- 
stance would  be  justifiable,  and  accordingly  on  the  last  Sabbath  in 
November,  the  day  before  she  died,  I  gave  her  the  symbols  of  the 
body  and  blood  of  our  Lord ;  and  I  trust  it  was  a  comfortable  sea- 
son to  us  both. 

"  A  few  days  before  she  died,  after  one  of  those  distressing  turns  of 
coughing  and  raising  phlegm,  which  so  rapidly  wasted  her  strength, 
she  called  me  to  come  aud  sit  on  her  bed  beside  her,  and  receive  her 
dying  message  to  her  friends.  She  observed,  that  her  strength  was 
quite  exhausted,  and  she  could  say  only  a  few  words ;  but  feared  she 


MRS.  HARRIET  NEWELL.  429 

should  not  have  another  opportunity.  '  Tell  my  dear  mother,'  said 
she,  c  how  much  Harriet  loved  her.  Tell  her  to  look  to  God,  and 
keep  near  to  him,  and  he  will  support  and  comfort  her  in  all  her  trials. 
I  shall  meet  her  in  heaven,  for  surely  she  is  one  of  the  dear  children 
of  God.'  She  then  turned  to  her  brothers  and  sisters  :  '  Tell  them,' 
said  she,  '  from  the  lips  of  their  dying  sister,  that  there  is  nothing  but 
religion  worth  living  for.  O  exhort  them  to  attend  immediately  to  the 
care  of  their  precious,  immortal  souls.  Tell  them  not  to  delay  re- 
pentance. The  eldest  of  them  will  be  anxious  to  know  how  I  now 
feel  with  respect  to  missions.  Tell  them,  and  also  my  dear  mother, 
that  I  have  never  regretted  leaving  my  native  land  for  the  cause  of 
Christ.  Let  my  dear  brothers  and  sisters  know  I  love  them  to  the 
last.  I  hope  to  meet  them  in  heaven ;  but  Oh,  if  I  should  not' — ■ 
Here  tears  burst  from  her  eyes,  and  her  sobs  of  grief  at  the  thought 
of  an  eternal  separation,  expressed  feelings  that  were  too  big  for  utter- 
ance. After  she  recovered  a  little  from  the  shock,  which  these  strong 
emotions  had  given  to  her  whole  frame,  she  attempted  to  speak  of 
several  other  friends ;  but  was  obliged  to  sum  up  all  she  had  to  say 
in  '  Love  and  an  affectionate  farewell  to  them  all.'  Within  a  day  or 
two  of  her  death,  such  conversation  as  the  following  passed  between 
us: 

"  Should  you  not  be  willing  to  recover,  and  live  a  while  longer  here? 

"  '  On  some  accounts  it  would  be  desirable.  I  wish  to  do  some- 
thing for  God  before  I  die.  But  the  experience  I  have  had  of  the 
deceitfulness  of  my  heart  leads  me  to  expect,  that  if  I  should  recov- 
er, my  future  life  would  be  much  the  same  as  my  past  has  been,  and 
I  long  to  be  perfectly  free  from  sin.  God  has  called  me  away  before 
we  have  entered  upon  the  work  of  the  mission,  but  the  case  of  David 
affords  me  comfort.  I  have  had  it  in  my  heart  to  do  what  1  can  for 
the  heathen,  and  I  hope  God  will  accept  me.' 

"  But  what  shall  I  do,  when  you  are  gone  ?  How  can  I  bear  the 
separation  ? 

" '  Jesus  will  be  your  best  friend,  and  our  separation  will  be  short. 
We  shall  soon,  very  soon,  meet  in  a  better  world ;  if  I  thought  we 
should  not,  it  would  be  painful  indeed  to  part  with  you.' 

"  How  does  your  past  life  appear  to  you  now  ? 

" '  Bad  enough ;  but  that  only  makes  the  grace  of  Christ  appear 
the  more  glorious. 

"  c  Jesus,  thy  blood  and  righteousness, 
My  beauty  are,  my  heavenly  dress; 
Midst  flaming  worlds,  in  *hese  array'd, 
With  joy  shall  I  lift  up  my  head.' 

As  I  stood  by  her  bedside,  about  nine  in  the  evening  previous  to 
her  decease,  perceiving  that  she  was  failing  very  fast,  I  told  her  I 
wished  to  take  my  leave  of  her,  before  her  speech  and  recollection 
left  her.  She  raised  her  eyes  to  look  at  me  one  mere,  gave  me  her 
hand,  already  chilled  with  death,  and  with  a  feeble  voice,  said, 
'  Farewell — we  shall  soon  meet  again—Jesus  will  be  your  friend.' 


430  MEMOIRS,   &C. 

"  When  I  told  her  she  could  not  live  through  the  next  day,  she 
replied,  "  O  joyful  news ;  I  long  to  depart.'  Sometime  after,  I  said 
to  her,  '  How  does  death  appear  to  you  now  ?'  She  replied  :  Glori- 
ous ;  truly  welcome.'  During  Sabbath  night  she  seemed  to  be  a 
little  wandering ;  but  the  next  morning  she  had  her  recollection  per- 
fectly. As  I  stood  by  her,  I  asked  if  she  knew  me.  At  first  she 
made  no  answer.  I  said  to  her  again,  '  My  dear  Harriet,  do  you 
know  who  I  am  ?'  '  My  dear  Mr.  Newell,  my  husband,'  was  her 
reply ;  but  in  broken  accents,  and  a  voice  faltering  in  death. 

"  The  last  words  which  I  remember,  and  which  I  think  were  the 
last  she  uttered,  relative  to  her  departure,  were  these — '  The  pains, 
the  groans,  the  dying  strife,' — c  How  long,  O  Lord,  how  long.' 

"  But  I  must  stop ;  for  I  have  already  exceeded  the  bounds  of  a 
letter,  though  I  have  come  far  short  of  doing  justice  to  the  dying  de- 
portment of  this  dear  friend.  O  may  my  last  end  be  like  hers.  I 
would  now  proceed  to  discharge  the  duty,  which  Harriet's  dying  re- 
quest imposed  on  me,  of  administering  consolation  to  you,  and  of 
beseeching  the  dear  children  to  make  a  right  improvement  of  this 
afflicting  dispensation ;  but  I  hope  the  God  of  all  consolation  will 
himself  wipe  away  your  tears,  and  fill  your  heart  with  comfort,  and 
that  Harriet's  dying  entreaties,  and  tears,  and  sighs,  may  be  carried 
by  the  Spirit  of  truth  to  the  hearts  of  the  children,  and  of  her  other 
young  friends,  and  may  fasten  conviction  on  their  minds,  and  engage 
them  to  follow  her  so  far  as  she  followed  Christ.  With  these  hopes, 
I  must  bid  them  all  an  affectionate  farewell. 

"Her  remains  were  conveyed,  on  the  1st  of  December,  to  the 
burying  ground  in  Port  Louis,  followed  only  by  myself  and  another 
gentleman,  and  interred  in  a  retired  spot  beneath  the  shade  of  an 
evergreen. 

Till  Christ  shall  come  to  rouse  the  slumbering  dead, 
Farewell,  pale,  lifeless  clay,  a  long  farewell ! 
Sweet  be  thy  sleep  beneath  that  green  tree's  shade, 
Where  I  have  laid  thee  in  thy  lowly  cell. 
Adieu,  dear  Harriet ;  thou  shalt  sigh  no  more ; 
Thy  conflict's  ended,  and  thy  toils  are  past ; 
Thy  weary  pilgrimage  on  earth  is  o'er, 
And  thou  hast  reach'd  thy  wish'd  for  home  at  last." 

The  homeless,  sorrowing,  lone  writer  of  the  above,  soon  after  the 
interment  of  his  beloved  Harriet,  left  the  Isle  of  France  for  Ceylon. 
After  a  residence  of  ten  months  in  this  Island,  he  departed  to  join  his 
American  brethren  in  Bombay,  and  united  with  them  in  laboring  for 
the  salvation  of  the  surrounding  heathen.  Here,  after  seven  short 
years,  his  compassionate  Savior  drew  near,  and  called  him  to  his  rest 
in  heaven,  where  we  trust  he  enjoys  a  happy  reunion  with  her,  whose 
Christian  walk  and  godlike  converse,  while  on  earth,  did  much  to 
ripen  him  for  Heavenly  bliss. 

"  Short  toils,  short  woes,  loved  friends,  were  thine, 
Now,  joys  eternal  and  divine." 

Note.—- From  the  Life  of  Mrs.  Newell,  by  the  Rev.  Dr.  Woods. 


431 


MISS  FANNY  WOODBURY. 


This  lady  was  the  daughter  of  Mr.  Isaac  and  Mrs.  Anna  Wood- 
bury, and  was  born  at  Hamilton,  Mass.,  September  10,  1791.  In 
her  infancy,  she  was  dedicated  to  God  in  baptism. 

Being  from  her  birth  of  a  slender  constitution,  she  rarely  enjoyed 
good  health  ;  and  was  often  brought  apparently  very  near  to  death. 
When  about  three  years  old,  her  sense  of  hearing  was  greatly  im- 
paired by  a  fever ;  and  her  deafness,  which  sometimes  very  much 
increased,  was  one  of  her  greatest  trials  through  life. 

In  the  spring  of  1807,  when  in  the  sixteenth  year^of  her  age,  she 
became  a  member  of  Bradford  Academy.  Here  her  natural  dispo- 
sition to  acquire  knowledge  and  her  taste  for  books  were  fully  grati- 
fied ;  and  duly  estimating  the  importance  of  cultivating  the  female 
mind,  she  improved  to  the  utmost  the  facilities  which  she  enjoyed 
for  study.  By  constant  application  and  great  exertions,  she  secured 
an  uncommon  degree  of  information,  and  the  advantage  of  her  ef- 
forts was  manifest  in  the  high  refinement  which  afterwards  marked 
her  mind. 

But  the  improvement  of  her  intellectual  powers  was  not  the  only 
important  benefit  which  she  derived  from  her  residence  at  Bradford. 
It  was  there  tnat  she  was  brought  to  feel  that  she  was  a  sinner — "  that 
her  heart,"  in  her  own  words,  "was  exceedingly  sinful  and  opposed 
to  God,  and  her  will  so  stubborn  that  it  would  not  submit  to  him." 
Her  attention,  however,  had  been  roused  to  the  subject  of  religion 
the  summer  before,  while  at  home  in  Beverly,  by  an  account  of  the 
revival  of  religion  among  the  members  of  Bradford  Academy,  which 
she  received  in  a  letter  from  her  sister,  then  a  member  of  that  insti- 
tution. The  narrative  of  the  dealings  of  God  there,  brought  her  to 
a  deep  and  solemn  consideration  of  the  subject,  but  it  was  not  till 
she  herself  came  under  the  influence  of  the  same  causes,  and  into 
the  company  of  religious  acquaintances  of  her  own  age,  as  she  did 
there,  that  she  secured  an  interest  in  the  great  salvation.  "After 
this,"  she  writes,  "my  feelings  were  changed;  I  saw  God  to  be 
holy,  just  and  good,  and  as  such  I  loved  him."  After  her  return 
home  in  the  fall  she  made  a  public  profession  of  religion,  by  joining 
the  second  church  in  Beverly,  of  which  the  Rev.  Moses  Dow  was 
pastor.  Previous  to  this,  at  the  time  of  her  being  propounded  for 
admission,  she  privately  made  a  solemn  dedication  of  herself  to  God 
in  writing,  using  the  form  of  words  given  by  Doddridge,  in  Chap.  17 
of  his  "  Rise  and  Progress  of  Religion  in  the  Soul."* 


*  See  Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Ramsay,  p.  385. 


432 


MEMOIRS  OF 


On  the  occasion  of  her  admission  into  the  church,  she  says  in  her 
diary,  under  date  of  Sept.  27,  1807, 

"  I  have  now  made  a  profession  of  the  Christian  religion,  and 
given  myself  up  to  God  in  my  youthful  years.  I  trust  I  shall  ever 
find  satisfaction  in  what  I  have  done.  I  have  done  it  in  the  vigor  of 
health,  in  the  prime  of  my  age.  I  choose  to  take  up  the  cross,  and 
daily  to  follow  the  blessed  Jesus,  rather  than  indulge  myself  in 
youthful  pleasures.  Indeed,  I  have  not  the  least  wish  for  the  vain 
amusements  of  life.  Religion  alone  is  capable  of  giving  that  happi- 
ness, which  will  remain  when  every  earthly  comfort  fails.  If  we 
are  destitute  of  this,  we  are  destitute  of  every  thing  which  can  ren- 
der us  truly  amiable  in  life,  and  happy  through  death  and  eternity. 

Among  those  whose  friendship  she  secured  in  Bradford,  was 
Harriet  Atwood,  whom  she  found  of  congenial  sentiments  and  feel- 
ings, and  capable  of  all  the  sensibilities  and  refinements  of  friend- 
ship ;  and  with  her  commenced  that  intercourse  of  heart  and  heart, 
and  interchange  of  mutual  endearments,  which .  many  years  and 
many  vicissitudes  served  but  to  cement,  strengthen,  and  improve. 
While  they  continued  together  at  Bradford,  they  were  much  in  each 
other's  society — "they  took  sweet  counsel  together,  and  walked  to 
the  house  of  God  in  company."  After  their  separation  they  fre- 
quently corresponded,  and  their  intimacy  continued  till  death  inter- 
rupted it.  Of  Miss  Woodbury's  numerous  letters  to  this  her  dear- 
est friend,  but  one  has  been  preserved,  which  is  here  inserted.  It 
was  written  after  hearing  of  her  determination  to  devote  her  life  to 
the  cause  of  Christ  in  India. 

Beverly,  July  7,  1811. — Sabbath  morn. 
My  dear  Miss  Atwood, 

I  have  just  laid  down  the  Memoirs  of  Pious  Women,  which  I  am 
re-perusing,  for  the  sake  of  answering  your  truly  kind  and  valuable 
letter,  for  which  I  return  you  many  thanks.  Reading  the  life  of  the 
illustrious  Countess  of  Warwick,  in  the  book  above  mentioned,  I  re- 
cognized with  heartfelt  delight  the  blessed  effects  of  genuine  reli- 
gion. How  does  it  purify  the  heart,  refine  and  elevate  the  affection^ 
and  influence  and  adorn  the  deportment  ?  Let  the  enemies  of  our 
religion  substitute  a  better  in  its  room,  and  we  will  acknowledge  they 
have  done  something.  But  this  they  never  have  done,  nor  ever  will 
do.  How  amiable  the  portraiture,  "  First  pure,  then  peaceable,  gen- 
tle, easy  to  be  entreated,  full  of  mercy  and  good  fruits,  without  par- 
tiality, and  without  hypocrisy."  Has  this  religion,  my  beloved  friend, 
a  seat  in  our  hearts  ?  and  do  we  at  all  times  act  under  its  sacred  in- 
fluence ?  Have  we  imbibed  the  spirit  of  the  meek  and  lowly  Jesus? 
and  do  we  emulate  his  bright  example  ?  Do  our  affections,  our 
hopes  and  our  desires  concentre  in  the  unchangeable  God  ?  Have 
we  risen  superior  to  the  puerile  and  insipid  delights  of  this  lower 
world ;  and  learnt  with  humble  Mary,  to  sit  at  Jesus'  feet,  and  with 


MISS    FANNY    WOODBURY.  433 

avidity  treasure  up  his  words  in  our  hearts  ?  Do  we  possess  a  faith 
in  Christ,  which  is  prolific  of  good  works,  and  an  ardent  love  to  him, 
as  the  chief  among  ten  thousands  and  altogether  lovely  ?  If  this  is 
not  the  case,  an  inspired  apostle  would  say  of  us,  "  Let  them  be 
Anathema,  Maranatha."  Let  us  examine  ourselves,  and  see  wheth- 
er we  be  in  the  faith.  Let  us  bring  our  views,  our  feelings  and  our 
actions  to  that  infallible  criterion,  the  word  of  God,  and  endeavor  to 
ascertain  whether  they  comport  with  what  it  requires.  I  am  more 
than  ever  impressed  with  the  importance  of  a  frequent,  impartial  and 
critical  investigation  of  our  hopes,  characters,  dispositions,  and  lives. 
T  think  it  would  be  well  every  evening  to  take  a  retrospect  of  the 
day,  and  inquire,  how  we  have  performed  the  business  of  it,  what 
duties  neglected,  what  mercies  received,  and  what  sins  committed. 
We  have  a  great  and  arduous  work  to  do ;  and  our  time  is  short. 
We  have  evil  tempers  and  propensities  to  subdue,  and  stubborn  wills 
to  conquer.  We  have  an  invisible  and  malicious  adversary  ever 
ready  to  annoy  us.  We  have  a  battle  to  fight,  a  race  to  run,  a 
crown  to  win.  "  The  kingdom  of  heaven  suffereth  violence  ;  and 
the  violent  take  it  by  force."  It  is  obvious,  our  souls'  cannot  be 
saved,  and  heaven  obtained  by  a  few  indolent  formal  wishes,  and 
heartless  duties.  No,  sedulous  care  and  unremitting  vigilance,  and 
circumspection,  are  necessary.  We  must  place  our  whole  depen- 
dence on  Jesus.  He  is  all-sufficient,  and,  if  we  repair  to  him  for 
grace  and  strength  to  do  his  will,  he  will  not  deny  us.  It  is  desira- 
ble to  feel  our  own  helplessness  and  nothingness,  that  we  may  value 
him  the  more,  and  place  a  more  perfect  reliance  on  his  merits. 

Sabbath  eve. — I  have  just  returned  from  the  house  of  God,  where 
I  have  been  indulged  with  hearing  Mr.  E.  Oh  that  I  could  but  ap- 
preciate my  privileges  as  I  ought,  and  make  a  wise  improvement. 
How  many  of  our  dear  fellow  creatures  are  groping  in  horrid  dark- 
ness, destitute  of  the  heavenly  light  of  the  gospel,  and  enveloped  in 
a  gloomy  labyrinth  of  Jewish,  Mahometan,  or  Pagan  superstition. 
Oh  that  the  Sun  of  Righteousness  would  arise,  and  illumine  those 
benighted  corners  of  the  earth  with  his  benignant  rays.  I  rejoice  to 
hear  there  are  a  few,  who  are  determined  to  quit  their  native  land, 
to  preach  the  everlasting  gospel  to  illiterate,  perishing  Pagans.  I 
have  been  apprised  of  your  intention  of  going,  and  wish  you  had 
communicated  some  of  your  feelings,  as  it  respects  that  subject.  I 
am  confident,  my  dear  Miss  Atwood,  you  will  sit  down  and  seriously 
count  the  cost,  before  you  make  any  engagement.  You  have  un- 
doubtedly revolved  in  your  mind  the  trying  sacrifices  you  must  make; 
the  hardships  and  distresses  you  must  probably  endure.  If  you  go, 
I  hope  you  will  be  enabled  to  do  great  and  lasting  good  in  those  dis- 
tant climes,  and  give  many  a  poor  native  reason  to  bless  God  through 
eternity  that  you  came  among  them.  When  we  consider  that  they 
have  souls  to  be  saved  or  lost,  we  are  filled  with  amazement  that  no 
greater  exertions  have  been  made  for  the  promulgation  of  the  gospel 

55 


434  MEMOIRS  OF 

among  them.  Surely  Jesus  has  done  much  for  us ;  and  now  can- 
not we  do  something  for  him  ?  We  should  consider  no  sacrifices  too 
great  to  be  made,  no  trials  too  great  to  be  endured,  if  thereby  we 
can  advance  his  cause  and  promote  his  glory.  "  It  is  the  only  cause 
on  earth  worth  an  anxious  thought,"  says  the  excellent  Dr.  G.  And 
what  great  matter  is  it  in  which  quarter  of  the  globe  we  reside,  for 
an  "  inch  or  two  of  time,"  whether  in  Asia,  or  America,  if  we  can 
be  doing  good?  The  idea  of  parting  with  you  is  extremely  painful; 
but,  if  you  go,  I  shall  still  have  the  rich  consolation  of  thinking  of 
you,  and  reading  your  letters,  all  of  which  I  have  preserved.  In 
imagination  I  shall  often  visit  Hindostan,  and  with  ineffable  delight 
behold  you  instructing  the  poor  Hindoos.  I  shall  participate  in  your 
joys  and  sorrows,  and  wish  you  the  presence  and  the  smiles  of  the 
prince  of  peace.  May  you  live  eminently  devoted  to  Him  here  on 
earth,  and  enjoy  an  eternity  of  consummate  bliss  and  unfading  glory 
with  him  in  heaven. 

You  will  perceive  I  have  adverted  to  the  difficulties  and  trials, 
which  you  must  encounter  in  your  intended  migration  ;  but  I  hope 
they  will  be  no  discouragement.  No  situation  in  life  is  exempt  from 
trouble.  I  trust  you  will  have  wisdom  from  above,  to  direct  you  in 
this  and  every  important  undertaking.  I  wish  you  would  favor  me 
with  a  visit.  I  long  to  see  you.  You  must  write.  I  shall  inquire 
for  a  letter  from  you,  when  I  see  Bradford  friends,  and  I  hope  I 
shall  not  be  disappointed.  Present  my  respects  to  your  mother,  and 
love  to  all  dear  friends.  While  I  trust  you  are  all  engagedness  in 
religion,  and  enjoying  times  of  refreshing  from  the  presence  of  the 
Lord,  oh  do  remember  your  vile,  worthless,  stupid  friend, 

Fanny  Woodbury. 

When  the  news  of  the  death  of  her  beloved  friend,  on  a  distant 
island,  reached  her,  it  may  well  be  imagined  that  no  common  feel- 
ings were  roused  to  action.  Her  journal  records  a  train  of  interest- 
ing and  pathetic  reflections  on  the  event,  which,  after  a  glance  at 
the  happy  and  peaceful  state  of  her  friend  in  heaven,  she  thus  con- 
cludes. 

"  Well,  my  dear  Harriet,  I  leave  you  there,  and  when  all  the 
transient  joys  and  sorrows  of  this  mortal  life  shall  cease  to  interest 
me,  when  my  spirit  is  just  ready  to  part  from  earth,  and  commence 
its  flight  through  space,  may  you  hail  its  entrance  into  that  bright 
world,  where  you  have  already  arrived,  to  spend  endless  ages  in  re- 
hearsing the  wonders  of  redeeming  love. 

"  Ah,  how  many  fervent  prayers  have  been  lodged  in  the  court  of 
heaven  for  my  dear  Harriet,  while  she  was  beyond  their  reach,  em- 
ployed in  cheerful  praise.  Well,  they  shall  not  be  lost,  if  offered  in 
real  faith  and  sincerity.  But  though  I  supplicate  for  her  no  more, 
yet  let  me  not  cease  to  remember  the  little  mission  in  which  she  was 
so  ardently  interested,  and  which  she  bore  on  her  heart,  when  almost 


MISS    FANNY    WOODBURY.  435 

overwhelmed  with  personal  trials.  Let  me  not  forget  perishing  Pa- 
gans, whose  hapless  state  she  so  pathetically  deplored,  and  whose 
immortal  salvation  she  longed  to  secure.  Let  me  not  forget  to  de- 
posit her  letters  in  my  heart,  as  the  surest  pledge  of  our  reciprocal 
affection,  and  the  living  transcript  of  the  inward  recesses  of  her 
breast.     Farewell  this  theme — I  drop  my  pen  and  sigh,  adieu." 

Similar  emotions  were  afterwards  excited  by  the  perusal  of  the 
memoirs  of  Mrs.  Newell. 

"May  12,  1814. — Last  night  was  chiefly  spent  in  reading  the 
writings  of  my  departed  Harriet,  and  sweetly  melancholy  it  was  to 
my  soul.  "  Safe  is  she  lodged  above  these  rolling  spheres,"  far  dis- 
tant from  this  land  of  sorrow  and  region  of  death.  After  many  a 
struggle  and  many  a  tear,  she  has  arrived  at  the  mansion  of  uncloud- 
ed bliss,  and  peacefully  rests  in  Eden's  bower.  And  does  she  not 
from  her  golden  seat  cast  a  pitying  look  on  her  dear  Fanny,  wander- 
ing forlorn  in  this  vale  of  tears  ?  Does  she  not  witness  the  mourn- 
ing tears  and  tender  sighs  of  bereaved  affection,  and  gently  whisper, 
"Weep  not  for  Harriet,  but  redeem  the  time,  fulfil  your  work,  and 
come  and  join  me  in  our  Father's  blest  abode  ?"  O  Harriet,  my 
much  loved  Harriet,  shall  our  spirits  one  day  meet  and  be  blest  with 
a  friendship,  which  separation  cannot  wound,  nor  death  destroy  ? 
which  shall  glow  with  seraphic  fire  in  endless  day  ?  Tossed  to  and 
fro  on  the  tempestuous  sea  of  life,  distressed  with  fears,  assaulted  by 
temptation,  oppressed  with  iniquities,  shall  I  ever  find  my  way  to  a 
brighter  world  ?  O  why  tarry  I  here,  seeing  I  groan  day  after  day 
over  an  unprofitable  life,  and  spend  my  time  in  vain  ?  Is  not  the 
hour  of  release  at  hand,  and  shall  I  not  soon  drink  abundantly  of 
the  wine  of  my  Father's  kingdom,  and  feast  on  fruit,  dropping  sweet- 
ly from  the  tree  of  life  ?  Haste,  my  beloved,  shorten  these  inter- 
posing days,  and  receive  my  parting  spirit  to  thy  glorious  rest. 

"May  13,-^The  years  that  are  past  arise  to  my  view,  and  pre- 
sent cause  for  deep  humiliation,  self-abasement  and  contrition.  Ah ! 
they  are  recorded  in  the  annals  of  eternity,  with  all  their  numerous 
misimprovements,  imperfections  and  sins.  Not  one  moment  of  them 
can  ever  be  recalled;  not  one  action  ever  be  undone.  As  I  kneeled 
before  the  throne  this  eve,  as  usual,  I  ruminated  on  what  1  have  been 
and  what  I  now  am,  and  the  tears  of  sorrow  stole  gently  down ;  and 
when  I  was  engaged  in  supplication,  I  was  blest  with  some  fixedness, 
ardor  and  importunity,  and  found  the  season  grateful  to  my  soul." 

Although  she  had  a  high  relish  for  social  intercourse,  especially 
for  social  worship,  yet  her  dearest,  sweetest,  noblest  comforts,  she 
found  in  solitude.  There,  in  her  beloved  chamber,  which  she  seem- 
ed to  regard  as  a  little  sanctuary — there,  secluded  from  every  mortal 
eye  and  mortal  care,  she  could  most  freely  and  fully  enjoy  her  pen, 
her  Bible,  and  her  God.  Three  times  a  day,  like  Daniel,  did  she 
retire,  to  hold  sweet  intercourse  with  Him,  in  whom  her  soul  de- 
lighted ;  and  sometimes  she  continued  the  employment  for  hours. 


436  MEMOIRS  OF 

When  her  friends  desired  an  interest  in  her  prayers,  she  was  deeply 
impressed  wkh  the  importance  of  complying  with  their  requests.  A 
few  months  before  her  death,  a  friend  said  to  her,  "  I  have  a  cousin, 
whose  situation  is  peculiarly  favorable  to  self-examination.  Do  pray 
for  him,  Fanny,  for  he  is  very  stupid."  About  six  weeks  afterwards 
there  was  some  reason  to  hope  that  he  had  found  Christ,  as  his  all 
in  all.  It  was  said  to  Miss  Woodbury,  "  Have  you  ever  prayed  for 
him  ?"  She  replied,  "  I  have  not  once  attempted  to  supplicate  the 
throne  of  grace,  without  pleading  on  his  behalf." 

She  had  a  very  deep  sense  of  the  worth  and  preciousness  of  time. 
But  holy  time  was  in  her  esteem  by  far  the  most  precious.  Very 
few,  if  any,  could  more  feelingly  "call  the  Sabbath  a  delight."  Not- 
withstanding her  difficulty  of  hearing,  she  had  a  remarkable  fondness 
for  public  worship.  To  one,  who  often  walked  with  her  to  the  house 
of  God  in  company,  she  was  accustomed  to  say,  when  about  to  enter 
the  sanctuary,  "  Now  I  do  hope  our  souls  will  be  richly  fed."  "Do 
let  us  hear  as  for  eternity,"  and  the  like. 

Her  religious  sentiments  were  decidedly  evangelical.  The  great 
doctrines  of  the  cross  were  her  meat  and  her  drink,  her  joy  and  her 
glory.  She  often  lamented  the  abounding  errors  of  the  day,  espe- 
cially that  which  robs  the  Savior  of  his  divinity,  by  reducing  him  to 
the  level  of  a  dependent  being. 

Deeply  imbibing  the  spirit  of  the  doctrines  which  she  loved  and 
advocated,  she  seemed  constantly  to  breathe  forth  love  to  God,  and 
good  will  to  mankind.  As  a  child,  she  was  respectful  and  obedient; 
as  a  sister,  affectionate  and  kind ;  as  a  friend,  sincere  and  constant ; 
as  a  a  correspondent,  punctual  and  faithful. 

Although,  in  consequence  of  her  natural  diffidence  and  inability 
of  hearing,  she  was  in  general  rather  reserved,  yet  to  a  few  intimate 
friends,  whom  she  tenderly  loved  as  the  friends  of  Immanuel,  she 
was  remarkably  open  and  communicative.  Of  the  two  principal 
characteristics  of  true  friendship,  tenderness  and  faithfulness,  it  may 
be  difficult  to  ascertain  for  which  she  was  most  distinguished.  When 
about  to  part  with  her  friends,  she  was  accustomed  to  give  them 
some  warm  exhortation,  such  as,  "Do  live  near  to  God ;"  "  Fray 
much  and  fervent;"  "Press  forward  with  all  speed." 

With  regard  to  the  poor,  she  was  by  no  means  disposed  to  dismiss 
them  with  "  Be  ye  warmed,  be  ye  filled,"  when  it  was  in  her  power 
to  relieve  them.  So  far  from  stopping  her  ears  at  the  cry  of  the 
poor,  or  turning  away  her  eyes  from  beholding  the  needy,  she  sought 
them  out  in  their  dreary  cells,  and  there  she  caused  the  heart  of  the 
widow  and  the  fatherless  to  sing  for  joy.  Nor  was  she  satisfied  with 
relieving  their  temporal  wants.  It  was  her  ardent  prayer  and  exer- 
tion, that  they  might  be  fed  with  the  bread  of  life,  and  clothed  with 
the  garments  of  salvation. 

The  sick  and  the  afflicted  had  a  share  in  her  tender  sympathies; 
and  it  was  her  melancholy  delight  to  visit,  assist,  and  console  them. 


MISS    FANNY    WOODBURY.  437 

She  was  a  striking  example  of  industry  and  economy.  A  large 
part  of  her  time  was  spent  in  discharging  the  duties  of  the  domestic 
circle.  When  her  eyes  were  occupied  with  reading,  her  hands  were 
generally  employed  to  some  useful  purpose.  Like  Dorcas,  she  made 
garments  for  the  poor.  After  her  death,  several  garments,  suitable 
for  the  approaching  season,  were  found,  which  she  had  carefully  pre- 
pared, and  laid  by  for  distribution.  Almost  the  whole  of  what  she 
bestowed  in  charity  was  the  fruit  of  her  own  industry.  She  often 
expressed  her  astonishment,  that  Christians  would  suffer  so  much  of 
their  time  to  be  lost  in  idleness ;  adding,  that  if  their  own  circum- 
stances did  not  require  the  fruit  of  their  labors,  the  poor  were  ever 
needy. 

The  extension  of  Christ's  kingdom  was  a  subject  which  peculiarly 
affected  her  heart.  To  hear  of  a  revival  of  religion,  was  to  her  like 
life  from  the  dead.  The  poor  heathen  were  much  upon  her  mind. 
She  took  a  very  lively  interest  in  exertions,  to  spread  the  gospel,  and 
evangelize  the  world. 

Perhaps  the  most  remarkable  trait  in  her  character  was  a  realizing 
sense  of  future  scenes ;  especially  during  two  or  three  of  the  last 
years  of  her  life.  It  really  seemed,  that  the  world  was  dead  to  her, 
and  she  to  the  world.  She  manifestly  felt,  that  she  wrote  for  eter- 
nity, and  lived  for  eternity.  Eternity,  with  all  its  tremendous  reali- 
ties, seemed  present  to  her  view.  It  was  remarked  by  those,  with 
whom  she  met  for  social  prayer,  that  she  appeared  to  feel  a  strong 
impression,  that  her  time  on  earth  was  short.  They  observed  an 
unusual  fervor  in  her  petitions.  She  seemed  already  an  inhabitant 
of  the  heavenly  world. 

The  last  passage  recorded  in  her  journal  seems  the  aspiration  of  a 
soul  already  weaned  from  earth,  purified  from  its  corruptions,  and 
made  meet  to  be  a  partaker  of  the  inheritance  of  the  saints  in  light. 

"  Oct.  2. — Have  this  day  been  permitted  to  sit  down  at  the  table  of 
my  divine  Redeemer,  and  again  renew  my  engagements  to  be  his. 
But  ah,  what  coldness,  what  indifference,  what  amazing  stupidity 
usurp  their  sway  over  my  heart,  and  paralize  every  rising  emotion  of 
piety.  What  infinite  reason  have  I  to  abase  myself  below  all  man- 
kind, and  freely  confess,  I  am  of  sinners  the  very  chief.  I  need  true 
humility,  a  deep  and  abiding  view  of  my  own  depravity,  while  faith's 
enlightened  eye  fastens  on  the  bleeding  Lamb  of  God,  and  points  to 
a  region  where  perfection  flourishes  in  immortal  charms.  Beauteous 
indeed  must  be  that  house  not  made  with  hands,  eternal  in  the 
heavens,  filled  with  holy  inhabitants,  and  abounding  with  every  bless- 
ing its  maker  can  devise.  May  I  be  so  favored  as  to  find  some  hum- 
ble mansion  there,  when  this  earthly  tenement  shall  be  dissolved  by  the 
chilling  blast  of  death,  and  sink  beneath  the  sod.  O  my  Redeemer, 
be  thou  my  Sun  to  illumine  my  path  through  this  benighted  world, 
and  to  gild  the  lonely  vale  of  death  with  some  heavenly  ray.  Let 
the  precious  blood  with  which  thou  didst  once  crimson  the  rugged 


438  memoirs,  toe- 

nails and  accursed  cross,  be  efficaciously  applied  to  my  polluted  soul, 
that  it  may  be  a  temple  fit  for  thee.  Come,  my  Savior,  remove 
this  interposing  veil,  and  disclose  to  me  those  bonndless  charms  of 
thine,  which  inflame  the  bosom  of  the  most  exalted  seraph  with  ec- 
stasy, and  tune  his  heart  to  celebrate  thy  praise." 

These  were,  probably,  the  last  words  she  ever  wrote.  About  the 
middle  of  October  she  was  seized  with  an  inflammation  of  the  brain, 
which  in  a  few  weeks  showed  fatal  symptoms,  and  removed  all  hope 
of  recovery.  On  her  death-bed  her  spirit  was  moved  with  tender 
regard  and  anxiety  for  those  whom  she  left  behind  her,  and  on  this 
solemn  occasion,  feeling  that  the  subjects  were  too  awfully  interesting 
and  affecting  to  be  presented  by  her  verbally,  she  dictated  a  farewell 
address  to  all  her  relatives,  friends  and  correspondents,  and  to  the 
church,  full  of  gentle  warning,  and  affectionate  counsel,  which  came 
to  them  like  the  words  of  "a  spirit  already  on  the  wing  for  immor- 
tality." 

Through  the  whole  course  of  her  very  distressing  sickness  her 
appearance  was  such  as  we  might  reasonably  expect  from  a  person  of 
her  character.  It  is  thought  that  very  few  have  ever  exhibited  clearer 
evidence  of  living  the  life,  and  dying  the  death  of  the  righteous. 

From  "  the  writings  of  Miss  Fanny  Woodbury ;  selected  and  edited  by  the  Rev, 
Joseph  Emerson,  of  Beverly." 


439 


MRS.   SUSAN  HUNTINGTON. 


Mrs.  Susan  Huntington  was  a  daughter  of  the  Rev.  Achil- 
les Mansfield,  of  Killingworth,  in  the  State  of  Connecticut.  In 
this  place  her  father  was  ordained  to  the  ministry  of  the  Gospel  in 
the  year  1779,  and  continued  the  Pastor  of  the  First  Church  until 
death  closed  his  labors  in  1814.  This  gentleman  was  a  native  of 
New  Haven,  a  graduate  of  Yale  College,  and  a  respectable,  useful, 
and  much  esteemed  minister  of  Christ ;  and  for  many  years  previous 
to  his  death,  was  a  member  of  the  Corporation  of  the  College  at 
which  he  had  received  his  education.  On  the  maternal  side,  Mrs. 
Huntington  was  descended  from  that  pious  man,  so  illustrious  in  the 
annals  of  the  New  England  churches,  the  Rev.  John  Eliot  of 
Roxbury.  Mass.,  who  will  bear,  to  future  ages,  the  honorable  title 
of  "the  Indian  Apostle."  Mrs.  Mansfield  was  a  daughter  of  Jo- 
seph Eliot  of  Killingworth,  whose  father,  Jared  Eliot,  D.  D., 
minister  of  Killingworth,  was  a  son  of  the  Rev.  Joseph  Eliot,  of 
Guilford  Conn.,  and  grandson  of  the  venerable  John  Eliot  of  Rox- 
bury. 

Susan  Mansfield  was  the  youngest  of  three  children.  She 
was  born  January  27,  1791.  Her  childhood  was  marked  by  sensi- 
bility, sobriety  and  tenderness  of  conscience,  and  a  taste  for  reading. 
Her  education  was  chiefly,  under  the  paternal  roof,  and  at  the  com- 
mon schools  in  her  native  town.  The  only  instruction  she  received 
from  any  other  source,  was  at  a  classical  school  kept  in  Killingworth, 
during  two  seasons.  Her  parents,  however,  devoted  much  of  their 
time  and  attention  to  her  instruction.  And  as  her  constitution  was 
delicate  from  infancy,  she  was  suffered  to  gratify  her  inclination,  in 
devoting  most  of  her  time  to  the  cultivation  of  her  mind,  by  reading 
and  efforts  at  composition. 

In  reference  to  the  formation  of  her  religious  character,  a  friend 
of  her  youth  remarks  in  a  letter  to  the  compiler,  "blessed  as  she 
was  with  a  tenderness  of  conscience,  very,  unusual  from  her  earli- 
est years,  which  was  exhibited  in  all  her  intercourse,  at  home  and 
abroad,  and  with  the  faithful  instructions  of  her  parents,  who  were 
living  examples  of  what  Christians  ought  to  be,  and  were  constantly 
endeavoring  to  instil  into  the  minds  of  their  children  sentiments  of 
piety,  of  the  deepest  reverence  towards  God,  of  love  to  the  Savior, 
and  of  universal  benevolence  and  good  will  towards  men — it  is  diffi- 
cult to  fix  on  any  precise  time  when  her  serious  impressions  com- 
menced. She  appeared  to  have  been,  in  a  measure  sanctified  from 
her  birth,  and  from  the  first  dawn  of  reason,  to  need  only  to  be  in- 
formed what  her  duty  was,  to  perform  it."    There  is  evidence,  how- 


440  MEMOIRS    OF 

ever,  that,  for  a  time  at  least  after  she  was  capable  of  understanding 
her  duty  and  her  obligations  to  God,  her  heart  was  not  devoted  to 
him.  In  a  letter  to  her  son  dated  Jan.  13,  1823.,  she  speaks  of  hav- 
ing a  distinct  remembrance  of  a  solemn  consultation  in  her  mind, 
when  she  was  about  three  years  old,  whether  it  was  best  to  be  a 
Christian  then,  or  not,  and  of  having  come  to  the  decision  that  it 
was  not.  But  the  God  to  whom  she  had  been  dedicated,  and  whose 
blessing  her  parents  had  so  often  and  fervently  supplicated  in  her  be- 
half, did  not  suffer  her  long  to  rest  in  this  sinful  determination. 
When  about  five  years  of  age,  she  was  brought  by  the  Holy  Spirit 
to  consider  the  duty  and  consequences  of  becoming  a  Christian,  in- 
deed more  seriously,  and  in  the  opinion  of  her  parents  and  of  other 
pious  acquaintances,  to  choose  God  for  her  portion.  Of  the  correct- 
ness of  this  conclusion  of  her  parents  and  friends  she  always  enter 
tained  doubts,  and  regarded  a  season  of  deepest,  and  in  her  view, 
more  scriptural,  religious  impression,  when  about  ten  years  of  age, 
as  the  commencement  of  holiness  in  her  heart.  She  made  a  public 
profession  of  her  faith  in  Christ,  and  joined  the  church  of  which  her 
father  was  pastor,  on  the  19th  of  April,  1807;  having  just  entered 
her  seventeenth  year. 

About  this  time  she  commenced  a  private  Journal,  which  was  con- 
tinued till  her  marriage,  but  which  she  destroyed  a  short  time  before 
her  death.  Of  her  other  writings  during  the  period  just  mentioned, 
which  were  numerous,  there  remain  only  some  lettters,  and  a  few 
pieces  of  poetry.  The  following  are  extracts  from  the  letters  of 
this  early  date  which  the  compiler  has  been  able  to  obtain. 

TO    A    FRIEND    AT    N.    H. 

Killingivorth  March,  4,  1808. 
I  have  read  the  sweet  little  poem,*  whose  admirable  author  you 
so  much  admire,  and  am  happy  that  we  are  alike  pleased  with  it. 
Some  of  his  descriptions  are  inimitably  charming  and  picturesque, 
and  some  of  his  observations  concerning  the  ways  of  providence  very 
just,  especially  when  he  says 

One  part,  one  little  part  we  dimly  scan,  &c. 

in  which  he  is  condemning  us  for  doubting  the  wisdom  and  goodness 
of  providence.  My  ideas  correspond  with  his  on  this  interesting 
subject,  for  I  firmly  believe  that 

Oft  from  apparent  ill,  our  blessings  rise. 

All  things,  we  are  assured,  work  together  for  good  to  them  that 
love  God.  And  as  we  are  ignorant  of  the  manner  in  which  our 
heavenly  Father  is  pleased  to  overrule  events  for  our  happiness,  it  is 
extremely  reprehensible  in  us  to  be  dissatisfied  with  any  of  his  ap- 


Beattie's  Minstrel. 


MRS.    SUSAN    HUNTINGTON.  441 

pointments.  The  prayer  of  the  true  Christian  is,  '  make  me  happy 
with  prosperity ;  but,  above  all,  give  me  conformity  to,  and  content- 
ment with  thy  will.' 

I  have  been  reading  Cowper  also,  and  love  his  sentiments,  his  ex- 
pressions, and  his  works  entire,  dearly.  Perhaps  you  will  think  I 
speak  with  the  rapture  of  an  enthusiast,  rather  than  with  the  reason- 
able animation  of  a  reasonable  creature.  But  how  can  one  fail  to  be 
delighted  with  the  mild,  delicate  and  pious  sentiments  which  contin- 
ually flow  from  the  amiable  author  of  the  The  Task  ?  in  all  his  ex- 
pressions he  is  "  simple,  grave,  sincere ;"  his  style,  alike  removed 
from  the  turgid  and  the  weak,  and  particularly  free  from  that  affec- 
tation which  was  his  "  perfect  scorn." 

I  cannot  sufficiently  express  the  value  I  place  upon  this  excellent 
work.  Some  of  his  "  winter  evening"  descriptions  fill  me  with  plea- 
sure, I,  in  fancy,  visit  the  lonely  spots  he  describes,  and  wander  with 
him  over  each  heath  and  plain.  I  love  the  man  for  his  meek  and  be- 
nevolent spirit.  His  writings  are  entirely  free  from  that  acrimony 
(which  distinguishes  some  of  the  English  poets)  of  satire  against  any 
class  whom  he  disliked. 

The  intelligence  that  the  Lord  is  visiting  you  with  the  showers  of 
his  grace,  and  causing  the  Sun  of  righteousness  to  shine  on  N.  H., 
and  the  neighboring  towns,  affords  me  unspeakable  pleasure. 

If  I  know  my  own  heart,  I  ardently  long  for  the  universal  promul- 
gation and  reception  of  that  religion  which  alone  can  make  men  hap- 
py. And  blessed  be  the  God  of  mercies  !  he  will  not  leave  his  work 
unfinished.  I  rejoice  that  so  many  are  hopefully  turned  from  dark- 
ness to  light.  May  this  happy  state  of  things  long  continue,  and 
your  light  shine  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect  day. 

TO  MISS  L.  AT  NEW  HAVEN. 

Killingworth,  Sept.  21,  1808. 

In  writing  to  you,  my  dear  M.,  I  shall,  with  a  confidence  which 
our  friendship  justifies,  throw  away  all  unnecessary  reserve,  and  use 
the  freedom  of  a  friend  and  sister.  In  communicating  every  inci- 
dent which  is  interesting  to  me,  and  seeking  in  you,  when  I  am  in 
trouble,  that  sympathy  and  consolation  which  I  hope  to  find  in  one 
whose  mind  is  so  congenial  with  my  own,  I  shall  enjoy  your  society, 
though  I  am  separated  from  you.  And  in  such  correspondence — ■ 
which  it  is  my  wish  may  be  maintained  between  us  while  life  shall 
last — we  shall  find  much  pleasure,  and,  I  hope,  some  profit.  When 
I  go  to  Boston,  I  do  not  expect  to  have  any  regular  correspondent 
but  you  ;  as  other  necessary  and  unavoidable  engagements  will  prob- 
ably, prevent  my  retaining  more  than  one.  I  shall  therefore  wish 
you  to  write  me  frequently,  that  we  may  not  cease  to  think  of  and 
love  each  other. 

I  received  a  letter  last  week  from  Gen.  Huntington.  He  informs 
me  of  the  melancholy  death  of  his  daughter-in-law,  at  N.,  of  whom 

56 


442  MEMOIRS  OF 

you  have  heard  me  speak  in  terms  of  affection  and  admiration.  She 
was  one  of  the  excellent  of  the  earth ;  an  ornament  to  her  sex,  and 
to  the  religion  of  Christ.  Her  usefulness  here  is  now  at  an  end. 
God  had  prepared  her  for  glory,  and  he  has  taken  her  to  himself. 
In  the  misdst  of  life  we  are  in  death.  Oh  !  that  we,  my  dear  M., 
would  learn  to  consider  ourselves  as  pilgrims  and  strangers  on  the 
earth,  and  to  live  with  a  constant  reference  to  eternity ;  that  when  the 
solemn  hour  of  death  shall  come,  we  may 

look  back  on  every  sorrow  past, 
And  meet  life's  peaceful  evening  with  a  smile. 


TO  A  FRIEND  AT  N.  Y. 

Killingworth;  February  19,  1809. 
What,  my  dear  N.,  would  be  our  sensations  did  we  suppose,  like 
many  learned  infidels,  that  this  narrow  sphere  of  being  was  the  whole 
of  our  existence  ?  Dreadful  indeed  would  be  the  thought ;  that  man 
was  destined  only  to  tread  for  a  few  short  days  this  speck  of  crea- 
tion, and  then  sink  to  nought !  What  could  ever  have  induced  cul- 
tivated and  aspiring  minds,  to  imbibe  notions  so  degrading  to  our 
nature  as  these ;  notions  which  make  us  but  a  little  higher  than  the 
beasts  that  perish,  and  which  preclude  all  desires  and  exertions  for 
nobler  joys  than  those  of  time  and  sense  ?  Futurity  is  the  Chris- 
tian's hope.  In  the  gospel,  life  and  immortality  are  brought  to  light. 
Death  shall  be  swallowed  up  of  victory.  Then  grace  shall  be  per- 
fected, and  glory  consummated.  Then  shall  we  know  even  as  we 
are  known  ;  whatever  appeared  mysterious  and  incomprehensible  to 
our  finite  capacities,  shall  be  elucidated  ;  God  will  be  seen  to  have 
done  all  things  well,  and  to  be  just  in  justifying  them  that  believe. 

On  the  eighteenth  of  May,  1S09,  Miss  Mansfield  was  married 
to  the  Rev.  Joshua  Huntington,  son  of  Gen.  Jedidiah  Hunt- 
ington of  New  London,  Conn.,  and  junior  pastor  of  the  Old  South 
Church  in  Boston,  Mass.,  which  became,  immediately  after,  the  place 
of  her  residence. 

The  letter,  of  which  the  following  is  an  extract,  was  written  soon 
after  her  removal  to  Boston. 

TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW,  AT  N.  L. 

Boston,  May  30,  1809. 
Our  ride  was  very  pleasant.  I  am  delighted  with  the  country 
around  Boston,  and  think  the  town  is  handsomely  situated,  and  I 
doubt  not  I  shall  be  pleased  with  the  inhabitants.  But,  my  dear 
friend,  flattering  as  is  the  prospect  before  us,  I  cannot  contemplate 
the  responsibility  of  the  station  in  which  I  am  placed,  its  total  dissim- 
ilarity to  that  to  which  I  have  been  accustomed,  and  the  arduous  du- 
ties resulting  from  it,  together  with  my  own  inability  to  perform  them 


MRS.    SUSAN    HUNTINGTON.  443 

as  I  ought,  without  feeling  a  degree  of  anxiety  lest  1  be  found  wholly 
unqualified  for  the  situation.  Did  I  not  believe  that  the  bounds  of 
our  habitations  are  not  accidental,  but  determined  by  the  providence 
of  God,  I  should  sink  under  the  weight  of  responsibility  which  now 
rests  upon  me.  But  I  do  believe  that  the  Lord  has  placed  me  here; 
he  it  is  who  calls  me  to  the  arduous  duties  in  which  I  am  now  to  en- 
gage, and  I  desire — I  think  I  feel  in  some  degree  enabled,  to  trust  in 
him  for  wisdom  and  strength  to  guide  and  sustain  me. 

I  have  as  yet  seen  but  few  of  Mr.  H.'s  congregation.  But,  if  I 
may  form  a  judgment  from  those  who  have  called,  I  think  I  shall  find 
among  them  many  who  cherish  an  ardent  attachment  to  the  doc- 
trines, and  maintain  a  consistent  practice  of  the  duties,  of  the  Gos- 
pel, unmoved  by  the  prevalence  of  error, — many  real  disciples  of 
the  blessed  Jesus.  I  do  not  doubt  therefore,  but  I  shall  be  happy, 
for  it  is  chiefly  the  society  which  renders  a  place  agreeable  or  un- 
pleasant. 

In  July  of  this  year  Mrs.  Huntington  made  a  visit  to  her  parents. 
While  with  them,  she  wrote  several  letters  to  her  friends  in  different 
parts  of  the  country,  from  some  of  which  the  following  extracts  have 
been  taken. 

TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW,   AT  N.  L. 

Killingworth,  August  1,  1809. 

It  is  a  week  to  day,  my  dear  E.,  since  I  bade  adieu  to  your  pleas- 
ant town  ;  and  I  am  the  more  desirous  of  taking  this  early  opportuni- 
ty to  write  you,  as  I  suppose  you  will  be  anxious  to  know  whether 
I  reached  home  in  safety.  That  I  left  your  family  with  regret,  you 
will  not  doubt ;  but  that  the  parting  would  have  been  so  painful  as  it 
was,  I  could  not  have  imagined.  It  was  justifiable  in  me  to  suffer 
myself  to  become  attached  to  you ;  situated  as  I  was,  it  would  have 
been  unpardonable  if  I  had  not.  But  I  believe  that  if  we  would  not 
suffer  our  affections  to  become  so  ardent,  as  we  sometimes  do,  for 
those  whose  society  we  cannot  long  enjoy,  the  separations  we  must 
experience  in  this  life  would  be  far  less  distressing.  Some  however 
would  say,  and  perhaps  not  without  reason,  this  would  be  the  philos- 
ophy of  a  stoic. 

Our  ride  was  as  pleasant  as  could  be  expected,  and  our  sail  as 
agreeable  as  high  and  adverse  winds  would  permit.  I  found  our 
family  well,  and  happy  to  see  me,  and  my  dear  little  native  village 
appeared  very  lovely,  after  my  short  residence  amid  the  noise  and 
bustle  of  a  giddy  metropolis.  Did  I  not  believe,  with  Milton,  that 
the  mind  is  its  own  place,  and  in  itself  can  make  every  circumstance 
and  situation,  merely  temporal,  productive  of  happiness  or  misery, 
and  did  I  not  also  believe  the  more  consolatory  doctrine,  that  all 
things  and  events  are  under  the  direction  of  One  who  cannot  err,  I 
should  sometimes  be  almost  disposed  to  sigh  for  the  solitude  to  which 


444  MEMOIRS  OF 

my  mind  and  feelings  are  so  well  adapted.  But  I  trust  that  the  sit- 
uation in  which  providence  has  placed  me,  if  it  exposes  me  more  to 
temptation  than  my  former  one,  will  also  lead  me  to  more  watchful- 
ness and  caution ;  and  that  I  shall  be  enabled  to  fill  properly  that  sta- 
tion which  is  "  a  call  to  duty,  not  a  discharge  from  care." 

TO  MISS  L.,    OF  N.  H. 

Boston,  January  1,  1810. 

Through  the  kindness  of  providence,  I  reached  this  place  in  safe- 
ty ;  and  now  you  doubtless  wish  to  know  where  and  how  I  am  situa- 
ted. We  have  been  keeping  house  seven  or  eight  weeks,  and  as  I 
have  for  company  one  to  whom  the  management  of  a  family  is  famil- 
iar, I  get  along  very  well.  Happiness,  I  find,  is  confined  to  no  par- 
ticular state  or  place  :  and  I  can  say  with  the  Psalmist,  (I  wish  it 
were  with  the  same  pious  gratitude,)  Goodness  and  mercy  have  fol- 
lowed me  all  the  days  of  my  life.  I  also  find,  as  I  have  always  found, 
that  no  situation  is  exempt  from  trouble ;  and,  while  surrounded  by 
blessings  which  demand  my  thankful  acknowledgments,  I  see  and 
feel,  in  myself,  and  in  those  about  me,  numberless  evils  which  excite 
pain,  and  should  produce  humiliation.  To  the  soul  which  can,  with 
unshaken  faith,  repose,  not  only  its  own  cares,  but  those  of  others  in 
whom  it  is  interested,  on  the  arm  of  Him  who  is  mighty  to  save,  and 
which  can  view  every  event,  whatever  be  its  nature  or  effects,  as  ne- 
cessary to  answer  some  wise  design  of  providence,  nothing  can  be  so 
distressing  as  entirely  to  break  its  peace. 

The  truth  of  this  remark  is,  I  think,  evinced  by  the  conduct  of 
some  Christians  in  this  place,  who,  though  they  mourn  the  sad  de- 
clension of  vital  piety  here,  are  filled  with  joy  and  confidence  in  God, 
and  feel  that,  should  the  times  grow  darker  and  darker,  they  could 
still  trust  in  Him  who  is  able  to  dispel  the  clouds  of  ignorance  and 
sin  which  hang  over  us,  and  cause  the  righteousness  of  Zion  to  go 
forth  as  brightness,  and  the  salvation  thereof  as  a  lamp  that  burneth. 
Nor  does  the  persuasion  that  when  God  sees  it  most  for  his  glory  to 
pour  out  his  Spirit  upon  us  he  will  do  it,  lead  them  to  indulge  in  su- 
pineness  and  indifference  in  requesting  it  and  using  the  means  to  ob- 
tain it ;  for  they  remember  that  the  promise  is  made  to  those  who 
ask  and  knock  and  seek  and  strive,  and  that  God  has  said  he  will  be 
inquired  of  by  the  house  of  Israel  to  do  these  things  for  them.  I  be- 
lieve, however,  that  this  high  degree  of  grace  is  acquired,  and  retain- 
ed without  interruption,  by  very  few ;  though  it  is  the  duty,  and,  but 
for  our  wickedness,  might  be  the  privilege,  of  all  believers  to  acquire 
and  preserve  it. 

When  are  S.  and  E.  to  be  married  ?  Dear  girls !  I  hope  they  will 
be  happy  in  this  state,  which  must  be  very  happy,  or  very  miserable. 
I  am  no  advocate  for  cold  esteem  only,  between  those  who  are  to 
live  together,  and  in  so  close  a  connexion,  through  life.  But  I  be- 
lieve extravagant,  misjudged  attachment  misleads  more  than  that  of 


MBS.    SUSAN    HUNTINGTON.  445 

an  opposite  character.  If  the  understanding  and  judgment  condemn 
what  the  passions  only  approve,  and  if  this  is  the  substance  of  the 
love  which  is  to  unite  husband  and  wife,  there  is  great  danger  of  its 
proving  like  a  fire  of  dry  stubble,  which,  though  it  may  burn  to  the 
skies  for  the  present  moment,  soon  dies  away,  to  be  enkindled  no 
more. 


TO    A    FRIEND    AT 


Boston,  August  15,  1811. 
It  gives  me  great  pleasure,  my  dear  friend,  to  learn  that  you  are 
so  well  pleased  with  your  new  situation,  and  that  your  society  are  so 
well  pleased  with  you ;  which  I  learned  from  a  friend  of  yours. 
The  approbation  of  those  with  whom  you  are  connected,  is  desira- 
ble, if  it  does  not  interfere  with,  or  divert  us  from  duty.  Our  influ- 
ence depends  upon  the  opinion  others  entertain  of  us;  and  influence, 
rightly  used,  may  promote  the  glory  of  God  and  the  best  interests  of 
men.  I  have  no  doubt  but  my  dear will  improve  every  advan- 
tage she  may  have  from  the  estimation  of  her  friends,  to  advance  His 
kingdom  and  cause,  to  whose  glory  our  every  talent  should  be  devoted. 
The  wife  of  a  clergyman  is  more  narrowly  watched,  than  almost  any 
one  else.  Her  deviations  from  duty  are  very  seldom  overlook- 
ed ;  her  opinions  are  minutely  examined  and  often  repeated.  She 
is  thought  to  take  her  notions  of  things  to  a  considerable  extent, 
from  her  husband ;  and  of  course  he  suffers  if  she  is  imprudent. 
When  I  reflect  on  the  responsibilities  of  this  situation  I  tremble  ;  and 
should  faint,  had  not  One,  whose  strength  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  I 
could  lay  hold  upon,  said,  "  my  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee." 


TO    MISS    L.,    OF    N.    H. 


Boston,  March  20,  1812. 
It  will  give  you  pleasure  to  hear  that  for  some  time  before  the  birth 
of  my  child,  I  enjoyed  a  degree  of  spiritual  comfort  scarcely  ever 
felt  before — not  as  high  overflowings  of  natural  feeling,  but  a  sweet 
and  delightful  calm,  arising  from  the  consciousness  of  the  infinite  in- 
tegrity, faithfulness,  holiness  and  goodness  of  God  ;  and  that  these 
feelings  were  continued,  for  the  most  part,  during  my  sickness.  I 
am  only  astonished,  and  I  hope  grieved,  that  1  love  and  serve  the 
blessed  Jehovah  no  better.  When  I  reflect  on  his  unbounded  good- 
ness to  me  who  deserve  nothing,  on  the  infinite  excellence  and  holi- 
ness of  his  character,  and  my  obligations  as  a  ransomed  sinner  and 
a  lawful  subject,  I  wonder  at  myself;  I  wonder  that  heart,  soul  and 
life,  and  all,  are  not  unreservedly  yielded  to  Him  who  deserves  more 
than  I  can  give.  Oh,  my  friend,  remember  me  at  the  throne  of 
grace.  Pray  that  my  soul  may  not  be,  as  it  were,  the  grave  of 
God's  mercies ;  that  I  may  not  be  entirely  dead  in  the  vineyard 
of  my  gracious  Lord,  who  has,  as  I  humbly  trust,  redeemed  me  to 
God  by  his  own  precious  blood.     How  sweet  a  passage  is  this,  "  the 


446  MEMOIRS  OF 

love  of  Christ  constraineth  us,  &c"?  How  desirable  to  be  thus  con- 
strained to  live,  not  to  ourselves,  but  to  Him  who  died  for  us  and  rose 
again  ? 

In  May  of  this  year  Mrs.  Huntington  commenced  a  second  Jour- 
nal, which  was  continued  till  near  the  time  of  her  death,  and  has 
been  preserved. 

Her  motives  in  commencing  this  record  of  the  Lord's  dealings 
with  her,  are  thus  stated  by  herself,  in  an  introductory  paragraph  : 
"  having  of  late  been  impressed  with  a  conviction  of  the  expediency 
of  taking  down  written  memorials  of  special  mercies,  I  shall,  from 
this  time  forward,  endeavor  to  do  it.  My  reasons  for  it  are  these, 
1.  The  remembrance  of  mercies  will  lead  me  to  extol  the  goodness 
of  God.  2.  I  shall  always  have  them  before  me  as  delightful  incite- 
ments to  duty.  3.  Such  a  remembrance  will  lead  me  to  trust  in 
God  in  seasons  of  doubt  and  distress.  4.  It  will  ever  shew  me  the 
weakness  and  wickedness  of  yielding  to  despondency,  my  besetting 
sin.  And,  oh  !  may  the  record  of  the  gracious  dealings  of  my 
God  ever  serve  to  quicken,  enliven  and  encourage  me  and  make  me 
faithful,  for  Christ's  sake,  Amen." 

In  the  subsequent  part  of  these  Memoirs,  extracts  will  be  made 
from  this  Journal,  and  from  her  letters,  promiscuously,  in  the  order 
of  their  respective  dates,  without  any  other  distinction  than  the  mode 
of  entering  them,  which  will  at  once  indicate  to  the  reader  from 
which  they  are  taken. 

March  21,  1812. — Deeply  impressed  with  a  sense  of  the  vast  im- 
portance of  a  mother's  duties,  and  the  lasting  effect  of  youthful  im- 
pressions, 1  this  day  resolve  to  endeavor,  at  all  times,  by  my  pre- 
cepts and  my  example,  to  inspire  my  children  with  just  notions  of 
right  and  wrong,  of  what  is  to  be  avoided  and  what  pursued,  of 
what  is  sacredly  to  be  desired,  and  what  unreservedly  deprecated. 
And,  as  my  firm  opinion  is  that  we  are  formed  to  glorify  God,  and 
that  to  enjoy  him  is  our  highest  happiness,  I  will  endeavor,  by  a  life 
corresponding  with  this  belief,  to  convince  my  children  that  God's 
glory  is  my  ultimate  aim  in  all  that  I  do,  and  the  enjoyment  of  him 
my  most  ardent  desire,  my  unremitted  pursuit,  and  my  unspeakable 
comfort.  I  will  endeavor,  by  avoiding  all  superfluous  concern  about 
dress,  furniture,  worldly  accomplishments,  &c,  not  to  counteract 
my  precepts,  and  thus  inspire  my  children  with  the  idea  that,  what 
I  say,  I  think  the  highest  good,  I  really  view  but  as  a  secondary  con- 
sideration ;  to  act  uniformly  as  if  a  desire  after  the  one  thing  need- 
ful, was  an  abiding,  influential  principle  in  all  my  conduct  and  pur- 
suits.    May  God  give  me  grace  to  keep  these  resolutions  ! 

23. — Indulged  in  many  anxious  anticipations.  Did  not  sufficiently 
realize  that  all  is  at  the  disposal  of  a  Being  of  infinite  wisdom,  and 
was  therefore  careful  about  many  things.  Well  might  the  prophet 
say,  "  thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on 


MRS.    SUSAN    HUNTINGTON.  447 

thee."  The  doctrines  of  the  holy  Scriptures  are  calculated  to  main- 
tain the  soul  in  uniform  serenity.  It  is  our  unbelief  that  counteracts 
their  influence.  Oh  !  for  grace  to  view  futurity  as  the  only  consum- 
mation of  life  and  happiness,  and  to  see  that  every,  thing,  however 
to  present  gratification,  has  an  ultimate  reference  to  it,  that  there 
is  a  "  need  be"  for  all  these  things,  and  that  the  time  is  coming  when 
every  dark  providence  shall  be  cleared  up,  and  it  shall  be  made 
manifest  that  every  event  of  this  mortal  state  has  been  necessary  in 
the  great  operations  of  the  director  of  all  things,  to  perfect  the  work 
of  redeeming  grace  !  how  sweet  it  will  be  to  trace  the  blessed  con- 
catenation of  causes  and  effects,  and  give  glory  to  him  who  hath  in 
all  things  made  us  more  than  conquerors  ! 

Oh,  may  I  bear  some  humble  part 

In  that  immortal  song! 
Wonder  and  joy  shall  fill  my  heart, 

And  love  inspire  my  tongue. 

January  22. — When  I  hear  females,  as  I  sometimes  do,  depreca- 
ting the  connectedness  of  domestic  life,  and  eagerly  panting  after  the 
employments  and  publicity  of  philosophers,  statesmen  and  legislators, 
I  am  led  to  think  that  my  life,  in  the  little  sphere  of  my  family,  must 
be  more  varied  than  theirs,  or  they  could  not  consider  the  duties  of 
the  domestic  circle  as  unimportant,  or  devoid  of  excitements.  It  is 
true,  if  the  meed  to  be  obtained  were  mere  human  applause,  the  fe- 
male part  of  the  world  would  have  but  little  opportunity  to  shine  ; 
and  might  justly  complain  of  the  narrowness  of  their  sphere,  and  the 
insignificance  of  their  lot.  But  when  it  is  considered  that  the  qual- 
ity of  actions  is  determined  by  God,  and  that,  in  his  view,  the  per- 
son who  tears  from  his  bosom  a  right-hand  sin,  or  performs  a  self- 
denying  duty,  is  greater  than  the  hero  or  the  conqueror,  considered 
only  as  such ;  how  is  the  case  altered  ?  how  does  it  dignify  any  sta- 
tion which  is  calculated  to  produce  these  effects  ?  The  woman, 
therefore,  who  complains  of  the  obscurity  of  her  condition,  feels  and 
talks  like  a  heathen.  She  virtually  professes  to  value  the  praise  of 
men  more  than  the  praise  of  God  ;  and  is  likely,  by  her  impiety  and 
folly,  to  forfeit  both.  In  performing  the  duties  of  private  life,  no 
Christian  will  have  reason  to  complain  that  he  has  not  sufficient  ex- 
citement to  duty,  or  sufficiently  numerous  calls  for  the  use  of  all  his 
intellectual  and  moral  powers.  The  various  and  complicated  vexa- 
tions and  trials,  pains  and  sufferings,  privations  and  disappointments, 
which  perpetually  occur  in  the  best  organized  and  most  favored  fam- 
ily, are  enough  to  convince  him,  that  there  is  no  time  to  sleep,  that 
much  is  to  be  done,  and  that  he  has  need  of  all  his  strength  and  wis- 
dom to  decide,  and  resolve,  and  act.  If  the  end  of  all  that  we  set 
ourselves  about  ought  to  be  to  mend  the  heart,  (and  no  Christian  will 
deny  that  it  ought ;)  what  situation  is  so  favorable  for  this,  as  that 
which  teaches  the  soul  what  are  its  besetting  sins,  and  offers  no  il- 
lusive temptations  to  self-delusion,  no  poisonous  reward  to  virtues 


448  MEMOIRS    OF 

which  our  consciences  tell  us  are  defective  at  the  core  ?  The  nat- 
ural effect  of  public  applause  is  to  produce  self-ignorance  and  decep- 
tion, for  the  standard  of  morals  is  extremely  low  and  defective  in  the 
world;  and  the  popular  man  will  give  himself  credit  for  virtues 
which,  either  are  worthless  in  the  sight  of  God,  or  he  does  not  pos- 
sess. How  awful,  when  death  shall  turn  him  from  the  decisions  of  a 
world  blind  and  partial,  to  Him  who  looketh  on  the  heart !  Oh,  that 
in  humility  of  mind,  I  may  ever  prefer  that  condition  which  leads  me 
to  the  most  intimate  knowledge  of  myself!  that  I  may  be  enabled  to 
profit  by  such  a  knowledge,  and  rejoice  to  become  nothing  that  God 
may  be  all  in  all. 

February  7. — There  is  scarcely  any  subject  concerning  which  I 
feel  more  anxiety,  than  the  proper  education  of  my  children.  It  is 
a  difficult  and  delicate  subject ;  and  the  more  I  reflect  on  my  duty 
to  them  the  more  I  feel  how  much  is  to  be  learnt  by  myself.  The 
person  who  undertakes  to  form  the  infant  mind,  to  cut  off  the  distorted 
shoots,  and  direct  and  fashion  those  which  may,  in  due  time,  become 
fruitful  and  lovely  branches,  ought  to  possess  a  deep  and  accurate 
knowledge  of  human  nature.  It  is  no  easy  task  to  ascertain,  not  on- 
ly the  principles  and  habits  of  thinking,  but  also  the  causes  which 
produce  them.  It  is  no  easy  task,  not  only  to  watch  over  actions, 
but  also  to  become  acquainted  with  the  motives  which  prompted 
them.  It  is  no  easy  task,  not  only  to  produce  correct  associations, 
but  to  undo  improper  ones,  which  may,  through  the  medium  of  those 
nameless  occurrences  to  which  children  are  continually  exposed, 
have  found  a  place  in  the  mind.  But  such  is  the  task  of  every  moth- 
er who  superintends  the  education  of  her  children.  Add  to  this  the 
difficulty  of  maintaining  that  uniform  and  consistent  course  of  con- 
duct which  children  ought  always  to  observe  in  their  parents,  and 
which  alone  can  give  force  to  the  most  judicious  discipline ;  and, 
verily,  every  considerate  person  must  allow,  that  it  is  no  small  mat- 
ter to  be  faithful  in  the  employment  of  instructors  of  infancy  and 
youth.  Not  only  must  the  precept  be  given,  Love  not  the  world ; 
but  the  life  must  speak  the  same.  Not  only  must  we  exhort  our  in- 
fant charge  to  patience  under  their  little  privations  and  sorrows,  but 
we  must  also  practice  those  higher  exercises  of  submission  which, 
they  will  easily  perceive,  are  but  the  more  vigorous  branches  of  the 
same  root  whose  feeble  twigs  they  are  required  to  cultivate.  Not 
only  must  we  entreat  them  to  seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God,  but  we 
must  be  careful  to  let  them  see,  that  we  are  not  as  easily  depressed 
by  the  frowns,  or  elated  by  the  smiles,  of  the  world,  as  others.  In 
short,  nothing  but  the  most  persevering  industry  in  the  acquisition 
of  necessary  knowledge,  the  most  indefatigable  application  of  that 
knowledge  to  particular  cases,  the  most  decisive  adherence  to  a  con- 
sistent course  of  piety,  and,  above  all,  the  most  unremitted  supplica- 
tions to  Him  who  alone  can  enable  us  to  resolve  and  act  correctly, 
can  qualify  us  to  discharge  properly  the  duties  which  devolve  upon 
every  mother. 


MRS.    SUSAN    HUNTINGTON.  449 

June  4. — Yesterday  I  went  to  the  meeting  at  Mrs.  M.'s*  as  usu- 
al, but  was  in  a  very  stupid  frame.  I  did  not  feel  a  sense  of  the 
divine  presence,  or  scarcely  any  desire  to  seek  it.  Jn  the  night  I 
awoke  about  two  o'clock  ;  and  was  led,  first,  to  reflect  on  my  insen- 
sibility, the  preceding  day ;  and  then,  on  the  sufficiency  of  Christ  to 
atone  for  my  sins,  and  strengthen  me  for  the  future  day.  I  did  not 
have  as  deep  a  sense  of  my  guilt  as  I  desired ;  but  I  seemed  to  feel 
sensibly  what  I  ought  to  be — that  I  ought  to  live  for  God,  that  I  ought 
to  maintain  a  constant  spirit  of  prayer,  for  myself,  my  children  and 
this  miserable  world ;  and  it  seemed  as  if  I  could  get  up  and  go  to 
work,  to  some  purpose,  about  my  Master's  business.  Oh,  it  is  de- 
lightful to  feel  as  if  the  first  wish  of  our  hearts  was  to  fulfil  the  great 
purpose  of  our  existence,  as  if  we  had  caught  something  of  the  spirit 
of  the  heavenly  world,  and  desired  principally  to  be,  and  do,  and  suf- 
fer, just  what  God  pleases. 

Oct.  25. — What  a  delicate  office  is  that  of  a  mother  !  How  wa- 
ry should  be  her  footsteps,  how  spotless  her  example,  how  uniform 
her  patience,  how  extensive  her  knowledge  of  the  human  heart,  how 
great  her  skill  in  using  that  knowledge,  by  the  most  vigilant  and  stren- 
uous application  of  it  in  every  variety  of  occurring  circumstances,  to 
enlighten  the  understanding  and  reform  the  heart !  Legislators  and 
governors  have  to  enact  laws,  and  compel  men  to  observe  them  ; 
mothers,  have  to  implant  the  principles,  and  cultivate  the  disposi- 
tions, which  alone  can  make  good  citizens  and  subjects.  The  form- 
er have  to  exert  authority  over  characters  already  formed ;  the  lat- 
ter, have  to  mould  the  character  of  the  future  man,  giving  it  a  shape 
which  will  make  him,  either  an  instrument  of  good  to  the  world,  or 
a  pest  in  the  lap  of  society.  Oh  that  a  constant  sense  of  the  impor- 
tance and  responsibility  of  this  station  may  rest  upon  me  !  that  grace 
may  be  given  me  faithfully  to  discharge  its  difficult  duties ! 

November  5. — What  a  great,  what  a  blessed  thing,  to  be  a  Chris- 
tian indeed  !  Surely,  after  evidence  of  having  attained  this  glorious 
character  I  do  pant  and  strive.  I  would  rather  be  a  Christian  than 
the  monarch  of  the  world.  That  blessed  name  embraces  and  sup- 
poses principles  more  elevated,  and  joys  more  exalted,  than  all  oth- 
er names  combined.  Men  may  talk  of  honor,  of  integrity,  and  of 
moral  rectitude ;  they  may  dream  of  pleasure,  and  follow  the  phan- 
tom till  they  die ;  but  the  Christian  alone  possesses  dispositions  cal- 
culated to  make  us  either  truly  good  or  truly  happy.  So  long  as 
man  is  supremely  bent  on  his  own  interests,  his  morality  must  be  de- 
fective. None  but  a  principle  embracing  universal  good,  and  loving 
supremely  what  is  supremely  excellent,  will  do  for  creatures  formed 
for  happiness;  for  in  loving  ourselves  supremely  we  love  what  is  in- 


*  A  stated  female  prayer  meeting-  established  in  1741,  and  continued  to  the  pres- 
ent time.     See  Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Abigail  Waters. 

57 


450  MEMOIRS  OF 

finitely  unlovely  ;  and  in  seeking  our  own  interest  as  our  highest  end, 
we  virtually  take  up  arms  against  all  that  is  excellent  in  the  universe. 
Oh  for  the  precious  spirit  of  the  Gospel,  which  makes  us  willing  to 
be  nothing  ourselves,  that  God  may  be  all  in  all. 

TO  A  SISTER-IN-LAW,   AT  N.  L. 

Boston,  .April  22,  1814. 

Have  you  seen  the  Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Harriet  Newell  ?  It  is  a  very 
interesting  book.  Such  unreserved  and  disinterested  devotedness 
to  the  cause  of  Christ,  in  so  young  a  person,  appears  very  extraor- 
dinary in  these  times  of  religious  indifference  and  sloth.  There  was 
an  elevation  and  spirituality  in  her  character,  seldom  met  with  at  the 
present  day.  No  one  can  help  admiring  her  excellence.  Christians 
will  be  humbled  by  its  contemplation,  and  stimulated  to  greater  ac- 
tivity in  the  service  of  Christ. 

June  19. — My  friends  are  very  desirous  that  I  should  take  a  jour- 
ney into  Connecticut  for  my  health,  under  the  protection  of  an  ac- 
quaintance who  is  going  on  in  an  empty  carriage.  The  prospect  of 
leaving  my  children  is  distressing.  Dear  little  creatures  !  they  cling 
to  me  with  the  utmost  tenderness.  I  sometimes  feel  it  to  be  myste- 
rious that  1  should  be,  to  such  an  extent,  disqualified,  by  the  fee- 
ble state  of  my  health,  to  do  my  duty  to  them,  when  those  duties 
are  so  important.  But  I  do  not  complain,  for  it  is  God  who  orders 
it  thus.  If  he  were  to  deal  with  me  according  to  my  deserts,  I 
should  be  swept  away  with  the  besom  of  destruction.  I  long  to 
have  no  will  of  my  own  ;  to  live  as  an  humble  child  at  the  feet  of 
Jesus.  God  is  wise,  and  righteous  and  good.  I  commit  my  way 
unto  him. 

July  4.  At  Killingworth,  Conn. — O  God,  my  soul  is  bowed  down 
to  the  dust  under  this  burden  of  sin ;  a  grievous  load,  too  heavy  to 
be  borne  !  Oh,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  the  body  of  this  death  ? 
Thou  blessed  Jesus,  who  art  able  to  bruise  sin  and  Satan  under  my 
feet,  I  fly  to  thee  !  I  humbly  implore  thy  aid,  to  strengthen  me  to 
perform  and  keep  this  resolution  which  I  this  day  make.  I  solemn- 
ly resolve  to  endeavor,  in  the  strength  of  the  Lord,  to  be  more 
watchful  over  myself,  to  maintain  a  constant  sense  of  the  divine  pres- 
ence, to  take  time  to  meditate,  and  think  how  Jesus  would  have  act- 
ed in  my  situation,  before  I  act,  that  I  may  not  rashly  say  or  do  those 
things  which,  afterwards,  I  could  weep  the  bitterest  tears  to  recal. 
Blessed  Redeemer,  do  thou  assist  me ;  or  rather,  do  thou  work  by 
me  and  for  me,  or  I  shall  be  swallowed  up  in  the  mighty  flood  of  cor- 
ruption which  threatens  to  overwhelm  me.  Help,  Lord  !  or  I  must 
perish ! 

20. — I  am  in  great  distress.  My  dear  father  is  apparently  on  the 
brink  of  the  grave,  with  a  dreadful  fever.  My  hand  trembles  so  I 
can  scarcely  write.  It  seems  as  if  my  feeble  frame  could  not  sup- 
port me  through  the  trial.     Dearest  of  earthly  friends,  husband  and 


MRS.    SUSAN    HUNTINGTON.  451 

children  excepted  !  Were  it  not  for  the  consolation  of  knowing  that 
God  reigns,  what  should  I  do  ?  Heaven  spare  him  !  Heaven  prepare 
us,  and  especially  my  dear  mother,  for  what  is  before  us  !  Heaven 
support  me,  or  1  shall  not  bear  the  trial  which  God  seems  about  to 
send  ! 

22. — The  conflict  is  over.  My  dear  father,  who  loved  me  as 
himself,  is  gone,  never  to  return  !  I  may  say,  with  the  Apostle,  I  am 
"troubled,  but  not  forsaken  ;  cast  down,  but  not  destroyed."  But 
the  wound  is  deep,  it  can  never  be  healed.  Dear  man  !  I  dwell 
too  much  on  the  merely  earthly  circumstances  of  this  afflicting  event. 
I  ought  to  look  beyond  the  veil.  His  sufferings  were  great ;  it  pier- 
ces my  heart  to  think  of  them.  But  what  were  they  to  the  glory 
now  revealed  ?  Blessed  be  God  for  the  satisfactory  evidence  he  gave 
of  preparation  for  the  great  change,  and  for  the  spiritual  comfort  he 
enjoyed,  amid  his  bodily  pains,  and  in  prospect  of  death  !  I  would 
bow  at  the  solemn  rebuke,  and  say,  Thy  will  be  done  !  God  of  mer- 
cy, support,  comfort  and  sanctify  me  ! 

Aug.  4. — I  (eel,  I  hope,  sincerely  desirous  that  this  solemn  provi- 
dence may  be  sanctified.  How  can  I  again,  lean  upon  such  a  bro- 
ken staff  as  this  world  ?  How  can  I  ever  again,  think  myself  secure 
in  the  possession  of  any  earthly  good  ?  Oh  that  I  might  feel  here- 
after, that  I  am  indeed  living  as  a  probationer  for  eternity  !  Now  I 
ought  to  shake  myself  from  the  impure  adhesions  of  this  wretched 
world,  and  be  more  engaged  in  the  work  I  was  created  to  do.  Now 
it  is  high  time  to  awake  out  of  sleep.  But  I  am  too  much  like  the 
sluggard  who  is  roused  by  the  accusations  of  conscience,  but  still 
is  too  indolent  to  rise.  I  am  clogged,  paralyzed,  by  "  this  body  of 
death."  I  cannot  excuse  my  supineness.  I  can  only  cry,  God  be 
merciful  to  me  a  sinner  !  1  feel  that  it  is  only  because  Jehovah  is 
infinite  in  mercy,  that  I  am  not  beyond  the  reach  of  hope.  I  have 
reason  to  bless  his  holy  name  for  the  supports  he  vouchsafed  me  in 
the  hour  of  trial.  I  think  I*  had  some  precious  views  of  his  charac- 
ter, and  of  the  rectitude  of  his  government;  some  earnest  desires 
that  my  sins,  my  idols,  should  all  be  buried  in  my  beloved  father's 
grave  ;  some  sense  of  the  evil  of  sin,  on  account  of  which  a  merciful 
God  was  compelled  in  faithfulness  to  inflict  so  severe  a  chastisement 
upon  me.  But,  alas  !  how  is  it  with  me  now  ?  My  dear  husband  is 
come ;  and  I  find  I  still  lean  to  the  creature,  and  am  wickedly  re- 
posing on  one  who,  like  myself,  is  crushed  before  the  moth ;  one 
whom  God  sent  to  comfort  me,  a  blessing  which  He  kindly  lent  me, 
but  which  I,  wretched  creature  !  am  disposed  to  put  in  the  place  of 
God  !  O  how  treacherous  is  my  heart !  What  a  miracle  of  mercy 
that  my  heavenly  Father  spares  so  perverse  a  child  !  I  can  only 
bring  my  soul  to  the  efficacious  fountain  which  grace  has  opened  for 
sin  and  uncleanness.     Here  must  I  lie,  for  it  is  my  only  hope. 

5. — What  a  changing,  dying  world  !  How  does  every  relic  of 
departed  joys  whisper  to  my  soul,  This  is  not  your  rest !     On  every 


452  MEMOIRS  OF 

side  I  behold  memorials  of  my  departed  father.  They  loudly  speak 
the  vanity  of  earthly  comforts  and  pursuits,  and  bid  me  lay  up  treas- 
ure in  heaven.     I  hear,  and  mourn  ;  but  do  I  hear  and  profit  ? 

For  us  he  languished,  and  for  us  he  died. 
And  shall  he  languish,  shall  he  die,  in  vain  ? 

September  2.  At  Boston. — I  was  quite  well  when  I  left  Connec- 
ticut, but  feel,  since  my  return,  much  that  appears  wrong  at  my 
breast,  and  an  almost  constant  pain  in  my  side.  At  times  1  am  al- 
most discouraged,  and  think  these  complaints  will  terminate  in  a 
consumption. 

I  had  hoped  to  have  been  spared  to  my  darling  children ;  to  have 
used  my  humble  exertions  to  guide  their  infant  minds  in  the  paths  of 
truth  and  holiness ;  to  have  watched  over  their  early  associations, 
and  directed  those  propensities  which  a  mother  best  understands, 
and  on  the  judicious  management  of  which  so  much  of  their  future 
usefulness  and  happiness  depends.  I  had  hoped  to  have  directed 
their  early  studies ;  to  have  put  into  their  hands  such  books  as  I 
know  to  be  useful,  or  accompanied  with  my  own  observations  such 
as  I  know  to  be  dangerous,  if  they  were  greatly  inclined  to  peruse 
them.  I  had  hoped  to  have  gone  with  them  over  the  instructive 
pages  of  history,  to  have  drawn  their  minds  from  an  undue  regard 
to  riches  and  worldly  endowments,  by  pointing  them  to  the  noble 
and  virtuous  conduct  of  statesman  and  generals  taken  from  the  cot- 
tage and  the  plough.  I  had  hoped  to  have  shewn  them,  that  ambi- 
tion is  not  always  successful,  that  pride  is  never  productive  of  hap- 
piness, that  outward  greatness  does  not  always  involve  magnanimity. 
And,  above  all,  I  had  hoped  to  have  shewn  them,  from  the  history 
of  past  ages,  that  the  lusts  and  passions  of  men  produce  wars  and 
fightings,  turmoil  and  misery  and  death  ;  and  to  have  drawn  them 
to  behold  the  difference,  manifested  in  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel  of 
Christ,  from  this  picture  of  wretchedness  and  sin ;  and  thus  to  have 
taught  them  to  cultivate  the  dispositions  which  that  Gospel  requires, 
and  on  which  the  happiness  of  individuals  and  society  depends.  O 
how  many  ways  may  the  mother  seize,  to  teach  the  offspring  of 
her  love  of  the  way  of  truth,  which  no  one  else  can  perceive. 

But  what  if  this  office  of  maternal  tenderness,  dear  to  my  heart 
as  life,  should  be  denied  me ;  have  I  any  complaint  to  make  ?  no 
none.  Is  not  God  able  to  take  care  of  my  children  without  me  ? 
yes,  infinitely  able.  Let  me  not  then  be  unreasonably  anxious  how 
it  may  be  with  my  poor  body.  God  governs,  infinite  rectitude  is 
on  the  throne  of  the  universe ;  and  why  should  I  fear  ?  if  it  is 
for  his  glory  that  I  should  live  he  is  able  to  preserve  me ;  if  it  is  not 
ought  I  to  desire  it?  oh  that  I  may  ever  stand  in  a  waiting  posture ; 
not  looking  upon  this  world  as  my  home,  but  desiring  that  all  my  will 
should  be,  that  the  Lord's  will  should  be  done  ! 


MRS.    SUSAN    HUNTINGTON,  453 

TO    A    SISTER-IN-LAW,    AT    N.    L. 

Boston,  September  11,  1814. 
We  have  been  forming  a  Female  Bible  Society  here,  upon  the 
plan  of  the  one  in  Philadelphia,  and  in  consequence  of  letters  re- 
ceived from  that  society.  What  an  honor  for  us,  to  be  permitted  to 
be  co-workers  with  God  in  spreading  that  Gospel,  which  bringeth 
glad  tidings  of  great  joy  to  this  miserable  world.  And  those  women 
whose  whole  attention  is  not  necessarily  devoted  to  their  families, 
ought  to  embrace  such  opportunities  of  usefulness,  with  joy.  How 
much  do  our  sex  owe  to  the  Gospel.  And  should  we  not  testify  our 
thankfulness,  by  extending  its  blessings  to  those  who  are  strangers  to 
them?  were  we  faithful  to  redeem  the  time,  we  might  all  do  much 
more  than  we  do  for  the  promotion  of  the  kingdom  of  Christ.  And 
is  not  the  object  worthy  of  such  an  effort  ? 

TO    A    FRIEND    AT    A. 

Boston,  January  3,   1815. 

Do  you  find  as  much  leisure  for  public  charities,  as  you  used  to 
before  your  marriage  ?  young  ladies  should  consider  the  talent  which 
is  intrusted  to  them  of  time,  disencumbered  of  domestic  cares,  as  a 
precious  deposit,  and  devote  it  faithfully  to  the  service  of  Christ. 
They  may  not  always  have  so  much  influence  (though  it  is  far  from 
being  always  so)  as  married  ladies,  but  they  have  more  time  and  op- 
portunity for  action,  in  the  various  fields  of  christian  benevolence  which 
it  is  proper  for  females  to  cultivate  ;  they  can  do  more  for  the  the  pro- 
motion of  the  various  charities  of  the  present  day.  Yet  our  situ- 
ation, my  dear  friend,  is  not  without  opportunities  for  doing  good.  A 
married  lady  can  exert  a  greater  influence  in  her  own  family  than 
any  where  else  ;  she  may  be  more  useful  there  than  she  could  be  any 
where  else.  It  is  indeed  in  a  silent  unobserved  way ;  but  not  on  that 
account,  the  less  acceptable  to  God,  or  the  less  beneficial  to  the 
world.  Besides,  industrious  women  may  redeem  much  time  from 
their  families  for  more  public  duties.  But  in  saying  what  might  be 
done,  1  condemn  myself. 

January  5.  How  difficult,  how  hopeless  is  the  task  of  pleasing 
every  body !  a  fortnight  since  a  lady  said  to  me,  with  a  tone  and 
manner  which  gave  peculiar  emphasis  to  the  words,  "  how  is  it  pos- 
sible you  can  go  out  so  much,  visit  your  people  so  frequently,  and  be 
engaged  in  so  many  charitable  societies,  without  neglecting  your 
family?"  this  week  a  different  imputation  has  been  attached  to  my 
conduct.  I  am  censured  for  doing  so  little  in  a  public  way,  and  con- 
fining myself  so  much  to  my  family.  1  am  accused  of  want  of  inte- 
rest in  public  charities,  because  I  give  to  them  so  little  of  my  time 
and  attention.  Such  different  opinions  ate  formed  of  the  same  con- 
duct !  but  the  voice  of  wisdom  bids  me,  cease  from  man  whose 
breath  is  in  his  nostrils,  and  study  to  approve  myself  to  God.     As  to 


454  MEMOIRS    OF 

rny  conduct,  I  am  very  sensible  that  I  do  little  good  in  the  world,  in 
comparison  with  what  I  might  do.  But  whether  I  could,  with  propri- 
ety, devote  more  time  to  the  active  duties  of  public  charities,  I  have 
serious  doubts.  More  of  the  charity  of  prayer,  to  Him  who  can 
effectually  ameliorate  the  calamities  of  the  world  by  subduing  its  cor- 
ruptions, I  might,  I  ought,  to  bestow.  Alas  !  here  how  I  fall  short! 
but  my  opinion  is,  that  her^own  family  has  the  first  claim  to  the  atten- 
tion and  active  exertions  of  a  married  lady.  So  much  time  as  can 
be  redeemed,  (and  she  should  feel  it  her  duty  to  redeem  as  much  as 
possible,)  from  the  ordering  of  domestic  affairs,  the  care  and  culture 
of  children,  the  duties  of  personal  religion  the  improvement  of  her 
own  mind,  and  the  perusal  of  works  from  which  assistance  may  be 
derived  in  the  all  important  business  of  education,  may  be,  and  much 
of  it  ought  to  be  devoted  to  the  duties  of  public  charity.* 

TO  A  FRIEND  AT  A. 

Boston,  December  20,  1816. 
You  inquired,  what  is  my  method  with  my  children  at  prayers, 
&c.  I  am  ashamed  that  you  should  ask  advice  of  me,  who  need 
counsel  so  much  myself.  But  if  I  can  suggest  to  you  any  new 
thoughts,  I  shall  be  very  glad  ;  and  expect  the  same  friendly  office 
irom  you  in  return.  I  begin  to  have  my  children  in  the  room  at 
prayers,  within  the  month  after  their  birth  :  and  they  always  continue 
to  be  present,  unless  they  are  sick,  or  are  excluded  the  privilege  as 
a  punishment  for  having  been  very  naughty.  It  is  difficult,  when 
they  are  quite  young,  to  keep  them  perfectly  still.  But  the  habit 
of  thinking  they  are  too  young  to  be  present  at  family  devotions,  is 
a  bad  one.  And  besides,  if  they  do  not  come  in,  some  one  is 
obliged  to  remain  out  with  them,  and  is  thus  deprived  of  a  precious 
privilege  and  an  important  means  of  grace.  After  they  get  to  be 
two  years  old,  and  are  able  to  understand  the  meaning  of  your  con- 
duct, if  they  play,  or  in  any  other  way  make  a  disturbance,  they 
may  be  taken  out,  and  compelled  to  remain  by  themselves  till  the 
service  is  over ;  which  will  generally  be  felt  by  them  to  be  so  great 
a  punishment,  that  they  will  not  soon  commit  a  similar  offence.  I 
would  not  do  this,  however,  on  every  slight  deviation  from  perfect 
order,  as  children  cannot  be  expected  to  conduct  like  men. 


*  It  may  be  well  to  state  in  this  place,  that,  at  the  time  of  her  death,  Mrs.  Hunt- 
ington, was  a  life  member  of  the  Female  Orphan  Asylum,  and  of  the  Fragment  So- 
ciety, a  life  member,  and  Vice  President  of  the  Graham  Society  :  a  life  member, 
and  a  director  of  the  Corban  Society,  and  of  the  Female  Society  of  Boston  and  vi- 
cinity for  promoting  Christianity  among  the  Jews.;  a  life  member,  and  the  corres- 
ponding Secretary,  and  one  of  the  visiting  and  distributing  committee,  of  the  Female 
Bible  Society  of  Boston  and  vicinity ;  an  annual  subscriber,  to  the  Widows  Society, 
and  to  the  Boston  Female  Education  Society  ;  an  annual  subscriber  to,  and  the  Vice 
President  of  the  Old  South  Charity  School  Society ;  an  annual  subscriber  to,  and  a 
Director  of  the  Boston  Female  Tract  Society  :  and  a  member  of  the  Boston  Mater- 
nal Association. 


MRS.    SUSAN   HUNTINGTON,  455 

As  to  government,  I  have  always  made  it  a  rule  never  to  give  a 
child  what  it  is  passionately  earnest  to  have,  however  proper  the 
object  may  be  in  itself;  because,  otherwise,  an  association  would 
immediately  be  formed  in  the  mind  between  importunity  and  success. 
Were  a  child  always  told,  when  he  cries  for  a  thing, '  You  shall  have 
it  when  you  shew  a  proper  temper,'  it  would  soon  learn  him  to  be 
reasonable.  I  think  it  the  destruction  of  government  to  be  capricious, 
to  refuse  one  day,  what  in  circumstances  not  seen  by  the  child  to  be 
different,  is  granted  in  another ;  to  let  fretting  and  teazing  carry  a 
point  at  one  time,  when  at  another,  they  would  bring  punishment. 
Children  very  soon  see  whether  we  are  consistent;  and  little  deviations 
from  an  established  rule,  afford  great  encouragement  for  the  next 
time.  These  little  deviations  do  great  mischief,  and  are  often  slid- 
den  into  very  imperceptibly  by  the  parent,  though  the  child  is  quick- 
sighted  enough  to  observe  them. 

One  thing,  my  dear  friend,  I  think  of  the  greatest  importance, 
and  that  is,  that  children  be  made  always  to  mind,  and  consider  the 
parent's  word  as  their  law.  Giving  up  once  after  a  command  has 
passed,  may  lay  the  foundation,  and  lead  to  insubordination  as  trouble- 
some as  unconquerable.  For  this  reason,  absolute  commands  should 
be  as  few  as  possible.  I  also  think  it  dangerous  to  play  with  children 
in  the  way  of  command,  saying  do  this  or  that,  when  you  do  not 
mean  that  the  thing  must  be  done.  It  weakens  parental  authoity. 
I  never  like,  to  tell  very  small  children  to  kiss  strangers,  as  they  often 
feel  a  degree  of  backwardness  very  difficult  to  overcome ;  and  if 
they  refuse,  it  is  necessary  to  pass  it  over  without  compelling  obedi- 
ence, which  should  not  be,  or  to  have  a  combat  with  them  before 
the  company,  which  hardens  them  to  reproof.  It  is  better  to  say,  if 
a  stranger  offers  to  kiss  them  and  they  refuse,  and  it  is  thought  best  to 
say  any  thing,  '  Your  kisses  are  of  no  great  consequence,  they  may 
be  dispensed  with  I  dare  say.'  This  leads  the  child  to  think  he  is 
not  of  so  much  importance,  as  he  might  otherwise  be  led  to  suppose. 

It  is  also  very  necessary  to  good  government  that  punishments 
should  be  proportioned  to  offences.  If  we  make  no  distinctions  be- 
tween intentional  and  complicated  offences,  and  careless  inadvert- 
ences, the  child,  by  frequent  recurrence  of  these  latter  faults  and  the 
sharp  rebukes  they  bring  upon  him,  will  become  so  accustomed  to 
severe  reproof  that  he  will  not  mind  it.  Tenderness  of  heart  is  the 
most  powerful  human  engine  of  parental  government;  and  when 
this  is  lost,  it  seems  to  me  all  is  lost,  unless  the  grace  of  God  interpo- 
ses. The  inevitable  consequence  of  frequent  reproof  is  a  heart  blunted 
in  its  sensibilities,  and  unmoved  by  the  parent's  displeasure.  Of 
course,  all  temptations  should,  as  much  as  possible,  be  put  out  of  the 
way  of  children.  Many  little  things  should  not  be  observed,  which 
if  you  vvere  conscious  the  child  knew  you  had  observed,  ought  to  be 
reproved.  A  harsh  and  angry  tone  should  never  be  used,  unless  a 
gentle  one  has  previously  failed.     And  I  believe,  where  the  authority 


456  MEMOIRS    OF 

of  the  parent  is  early  established  by  the  mild  and  gentle  means,  to 
some  of  which  I  have  alluded,  severe  measures  need  be  resorted 
to  very  seldom. 

February  26,  1817.- — I  never  felt  as  if  I  had  more  cause  for  grati- 
tude, than  now;  every  trial  is  so  mercifully  tempered.  I  enjoy  the 
exhibitions  of  reason  in  my  other  children  a  thousand  times  more 
on  account  of  dear  Elizabeth's  situation.  God  is  very  gracious  to 
me,  even  in  respect  to  her.  She  seems  to  suffer  but  little,  and  is 
a  sweet,  quiet  child.  This  heart  of  stone,  this  flinty,  stubborn  heart, 
which  can  requite  love  so  great  with  ingratitude,  is,  I  think,  my  great- 
est trouble.  I  shall  begin,  the  sixth  of  next  month  which  will  be 
Elizabeth's  birth  day,  to  observe  a  quarterly  fast  on  her  account. 

March  15. — Heaven  looks  very  sweet.  But  I  am  sometimes  led 
to  fear,  that  such  a  vile  creature,  so  little  inclined  to  improve  under 
the  culture  of  the  Gospel,  can  never  enter  it.  Where  the  christian 
religion  a  delusion,  it  would  be  the  most  blessed  delusion  that  ever 
smiled  on  the  heart  of  man.  But  it  is  not,  it  cannot  be,  a  delusion. 
Oh  no  :  blessed  be  God  !  there  is  an  inheritance,  incorruptible,  unde- 
nted, and  that  fadeth  not  away,  reserving  in  heaven  for  those  who 
obey  the  calls  of  his  word ;  and  their  afflictions,  however  severe, 
shall  all  be  made  to  work  for  them  a  far  more  exceeding  and  eter- 
nal weight  of  glory. 

TO  A  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 

Saratoga  Springs,  June  20,  1817. 

We  have  been  brought  thus  far  on  our  journey  in  safety.  My 
health  is  good,  and  Mr.  Huntington's  evidently  improving.  We  shall 
continue  here  a  few  days,  and  then  set  out  for  the  Falls. 

In  the  society  of  such  a  place  as  this,  a  Christian,  while  he  finds 
much  ihat  is  pleasant,  sees  many  things  that  give  him  pain.  To  hear 
one  complaining  of  sorrows,  for  which,  we  feel,  there  is  a  balm  which 
he  knows  not  of,  and  another  regretting  past  disappointments,  and 
vainly  promising  himself  ample  remuneration  in  future  gratifications, 
when  we  know  there  is  a  hope  sure  and  stedfast  of  which  he  is 
ignorant,  without  being  able  to  speak  of  either,  is  a  revolting  to  the 
spirit  of  philanthropy  as  well  as  of  Christianity.  He  is  the  wise  man 
who  is  able  to  seize  the  "  time  to  speak,"  and  employ  it  properly. 
And  it  certainly  argues  a  criminal  indifference  to  the  interests  of  our 
fellow  creatures,  or  a  deplorable  fear  of  man,  to  be  habitually  and 
totally  silent  on  those  subjects,  in  such  circumstaces. 

TO  ANOTHER  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 

Auburn,  June  28.  1817. 
We  are  surprised  to  find,  how  universally  this  State  is  peopled, 
upon  this  road.     It  is  quite  amusing  to  think,  how  little  I  was  pre- 
pared to  find  a  country,  thirty  years  ago  a  wilderness,  more  generally 
settled  than  some  parts  of  our  own  State,  for  instance,  between  Brook- 


MRS.    SUSAN    HUNTINGTON.  457 

field  and  Northampton.  Thus  far  we  have,  every  mile,  seen  cul- 
tivated lands,  fine  orchards,  and  good  houses.  Many  of  the  buildings 
are  constructed  with  a  neat  and  simple  elegance,  which  is  very  grati- 
fying to  the  traveller.  We  have  been  much  pleased  with  some  of 
the  houses  of  worship.  The  land  appears,  generally,  to  be  very  fer- 
tile, and  seems  to  promise  a  liberal  return  for  the  labors  of  the 
husbandman. 

We  passed  the  settlement  of  the  Oneida  Indians  yesterday.  You 
recollect  that  Mr.  Kirkland  was  formerly  Missionary  among  them. 
Their  present  minister  is  a  Mr.  Williams,  who  I  hear,  is  a  very  wor- 
thy man.  It  is  curious  to  see,  how  scrupulously  they  adhere  to  their 
ancient  dress  and  customs,  though  in  the  midst  of  a  civilized  people. 

Auburn  is  quite  a  pretty  village,  something  city-like  in  its  appear- 
ance. Mr.  Huntington  has  gone  to  call  on  the  Presbyterian  minister, 
while  I  am  writing.  We  are  told  there  is  a  revival  in  his  congrega- 
tion, and  that  his  house  is  filled,  on  the  sabbath,  with  anxiously 
attentive  hearers.  As  to-morrow  will  be  the  sabbath,  we  expect  to 
hear  him  preach,  and  see  his  congregation. 

Canandaigua,  July  2. — I  intended  to  have  finished  my  letter 
before,  but  could  not.  We  were  much  pleased  with  the  appearance 
of  the  congregation  with  which  we  worshipped,  at  Auburn,  on  the 
sabbath.  There  is  evidently  a  work  of  the  Spirit  among  them. 
Between  forty  and  fifty  have  obtained  a  hope,  since  the  commence- 
ment of  the  revival.  The  subjects  of  the  work  are,  as  usually  the 
case,  mostly  young  people.  The  minister  seems  to  be  much  engaged. 
It  was  truly  delightful  to  spend  a  sabbath  in  such  circumstances. 

The  roads  have  been  so  bad  the  last  few  days,  that  I  feel  quite 
fatigued,  but  hope  I  shall  hold  out  to  the  end  of  our  journey. 

TO  ANOTHER  FRIEND  IN  BOSTON. 

Herkimer,  July  18,  1817. 

Our  journey  has  been  a  very  pleasant  one.  We  have  been  highly 
gratified  with  the  appearance  of  things,  in  many  parts  of  this  State, 
in  a  religious  point  of  view.  We  did  not  expect  to  see  flourishing 
churches  of  two  and  three  hundred  members,  and  to  behold  the 
people  flocking  in  crowds  to  the  sanctuary,  three  times  on  the  sabbath 
in  this  wilderness,  as  we  had  considered  it.  In  many  places  religion 
is  almost  the  only  topic  of  conversation.  I  was  particularly  interested 
in  our  visit  at  Geneva,  a  most  beautifully  situated  village,  sixteen 
miles  this  side  of  Canandaigua.  The  good  people  there,  seemed  to 
think  religion  was  in  a  dull  and  languid  state  among  them.  But  I 
thought  I  found  there  a  great  deal  of  the  life  and  soul  of  it.  Some 
of  the  ladies  will  I  hope,  follow  our  example,  and  form  a  Maternal 
Association.  At  Buffalo  there  is  more  than  a  usual  attention  to 
religion. 

Buffalo  is  a  delightfully  situated  place,  on  the  bay,  or  whatever 
else  it  is  called,  where  the  waters  of  lake  Erie  enter  the  Niagara 

58 


458  MEMOIRS    OP 

river.  It  is  really  very  pleasant  to  see  such  a  city-like  place,  grown 
up,  as  if  by  enchantment,  on  the  extremity  of  our  western  frontier. 
There  is  but  one  house,  a  log  one,  standing  now,  which  survived 
the  fire  two  years  ago.  The  whole  village  besides  was  consumed. 
The  people  are  still  rather  depressed  by  their  late  calamities,  and 
have  been  somewhat  straitened  in  building  a  house  for  public  wor- 
ship. They  hope  to  receive  some  remuneration  for  their  losses  from 
the  government. — Canandaigua  is  an  elegant  village ;  there  is  scarcely 
a  poor  house  in  the  place. 

TO  HER  MOTHER,  AT  KILLINGWORTH,  CONN. 

Boston,  August  8,  1817. 
We  arrived  at  home  last  night,  and  had  the  great  comfort  of  find- 
ing our  dear  little  ones  in  usual  health ;  which  is  a  peculiar  mercy, 
for  I  am  told,  it  is  quite  sickly  in  town.  I  hope  this  will  find  you 
more  comfortable  than  you  were  when  I  left  Killingworth.*  Oh  my 
dear  mother,  I  did  not  expect  to  see  you  so  much  altered  and  en- 
feebled. But  I  hope  that  God  is  dealing  with  you  in  covenant  love; 
and  if  so,  all  your  trials  will  be  the  means  of  fitting  you  more  per- 
fectly for  the  kingdom  of  heaven.  It  is  a  great  thing  to  grow  better 
by  suffering.  God  sends  judgments  upon  his  children,  to  wean  them 
from  the  world  and  from  sin,  and  to  make  them  more  like  himself. 
I  hope  you  will  find  that  God  is  an  unfailing  refuge  in  every  time  of  trial. 
My  dear  mother,  do  not  be  discouraged,  but  carry  all  your  sorrows 
to  Him  by  whose  power  all  things  are  controlled.  He  will  not  suf- 
fer you  to  be  tried  above  what  he  will  enable  you  to  bear.  Trust 
in  the  Lord  Jehovah,  with  whom  is  everlasting  strength.  Those  that 
wait  on  him,  shall  renew  their  strength,  they  shall  never  faint.  Though 
he  may  see  that  his  children  need  the  rod,  and,  if  I  may  use  the  ex- 
pression in  reference  to  him,  be  constrained,  in  faithfulness,  to  visit 
them  with  it ;  yet  blessed  be  his  name,  to  them,  he  always  tempers 
the  stroke  with  mercy. 

Mrs.  Huntington  was  duly  sensible  of  the  high  responsibilities  of 
her  station,  as  wife  of  the  pastor  of  a  large  church,  and  was  un- 
commonly successful  in  the  discharge  of  her  important  duties.  She 
secured  the  love  of  the  people,  in  an  eminent  degree ;  and  by  her 
usefulness  in  various  institutions,  in  which  she  was  called  to  take  a 
part,  has  left  a  name  that  will  not  soon  fade  from  the  memory  of  those 
who  knew  her  value. 

But  Mrs.  Huntington  was  now  called  upon  by  the  greatest  earthly 
bereavement  with  which  she  could  be  afflicted,  to  leave  the  relation  in 
which  she  stood  to  them,  though  she  ever  after  held  her  place  in  their 
affections  and  respect.     In  the   autumn  of  1819,  her  husband,   re- 


*  Her  mother  was  at,  this  time,  afflicted  with  great  bodily  weakness,  and  with 
unusual  spiritual  darkness.  From  theflatter,  she  was  soon  mercifully  delivered,  and 
continued  to  enjoy  peace  of  mind  till  the  close  of  life. 


MRS.  SUSAN   HUNTINGTON.  459 

turning  from  a  journey  to  the  north  which  he  had  taken  for  his  health, 
weakened  by  fatigue,  was  taken  sick  on  the  way  at  Groton,  Mass., 
where  he  died  on  Saturday,  Sept.  11,  1819. 

On  the  succeeding  Monday  the  mortal  remains  were  interred  in 
in  Boston,  with  appropriate  exercises,  and  great  solemnity.  A  ser- 
mon was  delivered  on  the  occasion,  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Dwight,*  in 
the  Old  South  Church;  where  an  immense  concourse  was  assembled, 
to  express  their  interest  in  the  solemn  event,  and  to  pay  a  public 
tribute  to  distinguished  worth.  The  clergy  of  Boston  and  the  vicin- 
ity, the  members  of  the  church  and  congregation  of  which  the  de- 
ceased had  been  pastor,  and  a  multitude  of  other  acquaintances  and 
friends,  united  with  the  bereaved  family  and  relations  in  deploring 
their  common  loss,  while  they  praised  God  for  the  bright  example 
of  Christian  virtue  which  they  had  witnessed.  The  spacious  house 
of  worship  where  the  last  sad  offices  were  performed,  was  so  crowded, 
that  many  hundreds  tried  in  vain  to  obtain  admittance.  The  tokens 
of  unaffected  mourning  were  so  numerous,  and  so  impressive,  that  it 
could  not  be  doubted  in  what  high  and  affectionate  estimation  the 
character  of  the  departed  minister  and  friend,  was  held. 

In  relation  to  the  state  of  Mrs.  Huntington's  mind,  under  this  heavy 
trial,  an  intimate  friend,  who  was  constantly  with  her,  during  the  first 
week  after  her  husband's  death,  observes,  in  a  letter  to  the  compiler, 
written  March  1,  1824,  "There  was,  in  her  whole  deportment,  the 
most  convincing  and  pleasing  evidence  of  humble,  child-like  sub- 
mission to  the  divine  will.  Most  of  her  conversation  with  me  at  that 
time,  worthy  of  being  recorded  as  I  felt  it  to  be,  I  regret  that  I  am 
compelled  to  say,  has  escaped  my  memory.  I  will,  however,  add  a 
few  particulars,  in  the  unconnected  manner  in  which  they  occur  to 
my  recollection. 

"  I  remember  asking  her,  on  the  day  succeeding  the  death  of  Mr. 
Huntington,  if  it  required  an  effort  to  be  submissive.  She  answered, 
c  I  am  enabled  to  bless  God,  that  I  have  not  had  to  contend  with  an 
unbelieving  thought.  I  would  rather  have  endured  the  agony  of  sep- 
aration, than  that  my  dear  husband  should  have  borne  it.  I  can  truly 
say,  '  Tis  the  survivor  dies.' ' 

"  On  another  occasion  she  said  to  me,  "The  bitterness  of  my  grief 
can  be  known  only  to  God  and  my  own  soul.  But  I  think  I  can  say, 
1  Though  he  slay  me,  yet  will  T  trust  in  him,'  and  can  lay  hold  on 
the  hand  that  smites,  for  support.  But,  oh  the  loneliness  of  widow- 
hood !     I  am  as  Peter,  sinking  in  deep  waters.' 

"The  resignation  and  calmness  she  was  enabled  to  feel,  she 
ascribed  *  to  the  mercy  of  God,  in  answer  to  the  prayers  of  his  dear 
people,'  many  of  whom,  she  knew,  constantly  remembered  her  in 
their  supplications." 


Then  pastor  of  the  Park  Street  Church,  in  Boston. 


460  MEMOIRS    OF 

But  the  most  interesting  and  satisfactory  details,  in  relation  to  this 
important  period  of  her  life,  are  found  in  her  journal,  from  which  the 
following  passage  is  taken. 

"  I  have  long  intended,  for  the  sake  of  my  children,  to  describe 
some  of  the  exercises  of  my  mind  at  the  time  of  my  blessed  hus- 
band's sickness  and  death ;  but  have  not  before  felt  able  to  do  so. 

"  The  last  part  of  my  stay  at  Bridgewater,  I  experienced  at  times, 
a  peculiar  flagging  of  my  animal  spirits,  and  a  sense  of  horror  which 
can  never  be  described.  There  was  no  particular  cause  for  this  that 
I  am  aware  of.  On  Saturday,  August  28,  1819,  I  heard  that  Mr. 
Huntington  had  stopped  at  Groton,  fatigued ;  and  was  not  much 
alarmed,  supposing  that  he  did  not  come  to  Boston  so  late  in  the 
week,  to  avoid  the  labor  of  preaching  immediately  after  so  long  and 
fatiguing  a  journey ;  and,  overruled  by  the  solicitations  of  my  friends, 
and  the  consideration  of  the  yellow  fever  being  in  Boston,  I  remain- 
ed at  Bridgewater  until  Wednesday.  On  Tuesday  I  sat  watching  at 
my  window,  to  see  the  well  known  chaise,  the  sound  of  which,  on 
similar  occasions,  had  always  delighted  me.  Toward  evening  I  ex- 
pected the  stage,  and  possibly,  my  husband  in  it.  The  stage  appear- 
ed. Instead  of  my  husband,  the  driver  threw  me  out  a  letter.  It 
struck  a  pang  to  my  heart.  When  I  had  opened  it,  through  the  mis- 
taken kindness  of  my  friends,  I  was  still  informed  that  "  he  was  fa- 
tigued." Distracted  with  apprehension  and  suspense,  I  waited  for 
morning ;  and,  at  nine  o'clock,  left  Bridgewater  in  the  stage,  with  a 
heart  tortured  with  apprehensions,  alas !  soon  and  certainly  realized. 
During  my  ride  home,  this  passage  of  Scripture  was  upon  my  mind, 
and  comforted  me,  "  All  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that 
love  God."     I  was  feeble,  but  wished  to  go  to  Groton  that  night. 

Mr. assured  me,  however,  that  Mr.  Huntington  was  not  very 

sick.     He  had  seen  him  on  Monday.     Miss was  with  me. 

Mr. 's  assurance  of  my  precious  husband's  being  only  slightly 

feverish,  had,  in  a  great  measure,  lulled  my  fears. 

"  On  Thursday  morning  I  set  out,  in  a  chaise,  accompanied  by  a 
friend  for  Groton.  During  the  ride,  the  first  answer  of  the  Assem- 
bly's Catechism  was  strongly  impressed  upon  my  mind,  "Man's  chief 
end  is  to  glorify  God  and  enjoy  him  forever."  I  felt  that,  for  the 
last  twelve  years  I  had,  in  a  great  degree,  misunderstood  the  great 
object  for  which  I  was  made ;  that,  if  not  my  chief,  a  very  high  end 
with  me  had  been,  to  be  happy  in  my  husband,  and  make  him  happy 
in  me.  I  felt  that  the  highest  happiness  of  a  rational  mind  ought  to 
arise,  from  answering  the  purpose  for  which  God  made  it;  and  there- 
fore that  I  ought  to  be  happy  in  glorifying  God,  not  in  enjoying 
myself. 

"  We  reached  the  public  house  in  Groton.  I  inquired  if  they 
knew  how  Mr.  Huntington  of  Boston  was.  The  answer  was,  "Very 
sick  indeed ;  the  doctor  has  been  there  all  day ;  he  is  a  very  sick  man." 
My  limbs  would  scarcely  support  rne  to  the  house.     Upon  our  arri- 


MBS.  SUSAN  HUNTINGTON.  461 

val  there,  we  went  into  the  parlor  alone.  The  first  object  that  met 
my  eye,  was  the  hat  of  the  blessed  sufferer  above  stairs.  It  struck 
me  with  fearfulness  and  trembling,  as  the  herald  of  death.  I  asked 
for  the  physician ;  and  in  reply  to  my  agonized  interrogation,  "  Is 
there  no  hope  ?"  he  said,  "  Mr.  Huntington  is  very  sick.  I  should 
have  some  hope,  were  it  not  that  all  fevers  this  summer  have  been 
unusually  fatal." — The  overwhelming  agonies  of  that  moment  can 
never  be  described.  The  language  of  my  heart  was,  {  Oh  that  God 
would  redeem  his  life  with  mine  !'  The  doctor  told  me  I  must  com- 
pose myself,  as  to  see  me  agitated  might  destroy  the  object  of  my 
solicitude. 

"  Mr.  Huntington  was  apprised,  by  the  physician,  of  my  arrival. 
There  was  an  increase  of  ten  to  the  number  of  his  pulse  upon  this 
intelligence.  When  I  entered  the  room  in  which  he  lay,  he  was 
gasping  for  breath ;  but  his  countenance  glowed  with  an  expression 
of  tenderness  I  shall  never  forget,  as  he  threw  open  his  arms,  ex- 
claiming, "  My  dear  wife  !"  and  clasped  me,  for  some  moments,  to 
his  bosom.  I  said,  with  perfect  composure,  "My  blessed  husband, 
I  have  come  at  last."  He  replied,  "  Yes,  and  it  is  in  infinite  mercy 
to  me."  I  told  him,  all  I  regretted  was,  that  I  could  not  get  to  him 
sooner.  He  said,  with  a  tender  consideration  for  my  health,  which 
he  always  valued  more  than  his  own,  "  I  am  glad  you  could  not ;  in 
your  present  circumstances,  it  might  have  been  too  much  for  you." 

"  From  that  time,  owing  to  the  insidious  nature  of  his  disease,  I  had 
considerable  hope.  I  had  seen  him.  I  was  with  him.  He  was  as 
sensible  of  my  love,  and  of  my  attentions,  as  ever ;  and  I  could  not 
realize  the  stroke  which  was  impending.  Never  shall  I  remember, 
without  gratitude,  the  goodness  of  God  in  giving  me  that  last  week 
of  sweet,  though  sorrowful,  intercourse  with  my  beloved  husband. 

"  The  days  and  nights  of  solicitude  drew  near  a  fatal  close.  I 
could  not  think  of  his  death.  At  that  prospect,  nature  revolted.  I 
felt  as  if  it  would  be  comparatively  easy  to  die  for  him.  But  the 
day  before  his  death,  when  all  spoke  encouragement,  I  felt  that  we 
must  part.  In  the  bitterness  of  my  soul,  I  went  into  the  garret.  It 
was  the  only  place  I  could  have  without  interruption.  Never  shall  I 
forget  that  hour.  Whether  in  the  body  or  out,  I  could  scarcely  tell. 
I  drew  near  to  God.  Such  a  view  of  the  reality  and  nearness  of 
eternal  things,  I  had  never  had.  It  seemed  as  if  I  were  somewhere 
with  God.  I  cast  my  eye  back  on  this  life,  it  seemed  a  speck.  I 
felt  that  God  was  my  God,  and  my  husband's  God ;  that  this  was 
enough ;  that  it  was  a  mere  point  of  difference,  whether  he  should 
go  to  heaven  first  or  I,  seeing  we  should  both  go  so  soon.  My  mind 
was  filled  with  satisfaction  with  the  government  of  God.  "  Be  ye 
followers  of  them  who,  through  faith  and  patience,  inherit  the  prom- 
ises," seemed  to  be  the  exhortation  given  me  upon  coming  back  to 
this  world. — I  do  not  mean  that  there  were  any  bodily  or  sensible 
appearances.     But  1  seemed  carried  away  in  spirit.     I  pleaded  for 


462  MEMOIRS  OF 

myself  and  children,  travelling  through  this  distant  country.  It  seem- 
ed as  if  I  gave  them,  myself,  and  my  husband,  up,  entirely.  And  it 
was  made  sure  to  me,  that  God  would  do  what  was  best  for  us. 

"  From  that  time,  though  nature  would  have  her  struggles,  I  felt 
that  God  had  an  infinite  right  to  do  what  he  pleased  with  his  own ; 
that  he  loved  my  husband  better  than  I  did ;  that  if  He  saw  him 
ripe  for  his  rest,  I  had  no  objections  to  make.  All  the  night  he  was 
exercised  with  expiring  sufferings,  and  God  was  pouring  into  my  soul 
one  truth  and  promise  of  the  gospel  after  another.  I  felt  it  sweet  for 
him  to  govern.  There  was  a  solemn  tranquillity  filled  the  chamber 
of  death.  It  was  an  hour  of  extremity  to  one  whom  Jesus  loved.  I 
felt  that  He  was  there,  that  angels  were  there,  that  every  agony  was 
sweetened  and  mitigated  by  One,  in  whose  sight  the  death  of  his 
saints  is  precious.  I  felt  as  if  I  had  gone  with  the  departing  spirit  to 
the  very  utmost  boundary  of  this  land  of  mortals,  and  as  if  it  would 
be  easier  for  me  to  drop  the  body  which  confined  my  soul  in  its  ap- 
proach toward  heaven,  than  retrace  all  the  way  I  had  gone.  When 
the  intelligence  was  brought  me  that  the  conflict  was  over,  it  was 
good  news,  I  kissed  the  clay,  as  pleasantly  as  I  ever  did  when  it  was 
animated  by  the  now  departed  spirit.  I  was  glad  he  had  got  safely 
home,  and  that  all  the  steps  of  his  departure  were  so  gently  ordered. 

"  It  would  be  in  vain  for  me  to  attempt  a  description  of  my  feelings 
the  next  morning.  I  had  never  seen  such  a  sun  rise  before.  It  be- 
held me  alone.  Were  I  the  only  created  being  in  the  universe,  I 
could  not,  perhaps,  have  felt  very  differently.  I  went  into  the  cham- 
ber in  which  he  died.  There,  on  the  pillow,  was  the  print  of  his 
head.  The  bed  of  death  was  just  as  when  it  resigned  forever,  the 
body  of  him  who  was  all  the  world  to  me.  His  portmanteau,  comb, 
brush,  &lc.  lay  in  sight.     God  wonderfully  supported  me. 

"  But  why  do  I  dwell  on  a  description  which,  even  now,  is  almost 
too  much  for  me  ?  How  did  God  sustain  a  creature  who  was  weak- 
ness itself!  How  mercifully  he  has  carried  me  through  all  my  suc- 
cessive trials  !  Truly  it  was  the  Lord's  doing ;  and  it  is  marvellous 
in  my  eyes. 

"  And  now ;  O,  how  is  it  now  !  Not  so  much  comfort ;  laboring 
with  sin;  afraid  almost  to  live  in  this  wicked  world;  dreading  a  thou- 
sand evils  in  my  present  lonely  state.  But  all  this  is  wrong.  God 
hath  said,  "Who  shall  harm  you,  if  ye  be  followers  of  that  which  is 
good  ?"  How  kindly  my  beloved  husband  used  to  remind  me  of  this 
text." 

The  few  remaining  years  of  Mrs.  Huntington's  pilgrimage  were 
years  of  deep  sorrow,  but  not  of  despair.  The  wound  made  by 
this  blow  of  Providence  never  closed,  but  her  sorrow  was  not  that  of 
those  who  have  no  hope.  The  consolations  of  that  religion  which 
had  comforted  her  under  former  trials  were  with  her  still,  and  though 
she  lamented  she  did  not  repine.  In  August,  1821,  she  was  called 
upon  to  give  up  to  God  her  youngest  child,  a  little  boy  born  less  than 


MRS.    SUSAN    HUNTINGTON.  463 

three  months  after  the  death  of  his  father.  And  in  a  fortnight  after 
the  death  of  her  son,  her  youngest  daughter  was  taken  away.  Her 
own  description  will  give  the  best  idea  of  her  affliction. 

TO    A    SISTER    IN    LAW    AT    N.    L. 

Boston,  November  6,  1821. 

You  wish  to  be  informed  more  particularly  of  the  circumstances 
of  my  sweet  Joshua's  death.  When  I  left  him  on  Saturday  he  ap- 
peared as  well  as  usual.  The  heat  of  the  weather  had  made  him 
rather  thin  and  pale ;  but  he  was  not  otherwise  unwell.  He  contin- 
ued well  until  Wednesday  morning,  when  he  was  seized  with  a  diar- 
rhea. This  continued,  sometimes  apparently  abating,  till  Friday 
morning;  when  it  became  apparent  that  his  disease  was  the  dysen- 
tery. The  Doctor  came  to  see  him,  and  advised  his  removal  to 
Mr.  W.'s,  where  he  could  have  all  my  friends  near  him.  I  think  he 
must  have  fallen  away  greatly  on  Friday  night,  as  the  doctor  did  not 
speak  of  him  as  in  a  dangerous  state,  at  the  time  of  the  visit  just  al- 
luded to.  On  Saturday  morning,  the  little  sufferer  was  accordingly 
removed,  forever  removed.  After  he  arrived  at  Mr.  W.'s,  he  was 
by  the  direction  of  the  physician,  put  in  a  warm  bath.  But  no  one 
seemed  to  be  aware  of  his  real  situation.  Early  on  Saturday  morn- 
ing, I  was  sent  for,  and  arrived  at  about  half  past  one  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon.  Light  of  heart,  I  sprang  out  of  the  carriage  to  inquire 
for  my  child ;  for  I  had  been  told  that  he  was  not  very  sick,  and  his 
being  at  Mr.  W.'s,  confirmed  me  in  the  opinion.  Mrs.  W.  told  me 
that  he  was  now  very  sick.  Still,  however  my  infatuation  prevailed. 
I  thought  he  could  not  be  very  sick,  and  be  there.  Judge  then  of 
my  agony,  when  I  entered  the  chamber,  and  saw  my  child,  the  dar- 
ling of  my  soul,  not  as  I  left  him,  but  engaged  in  his  last  conflict.  I 
instantly  recognized  the  hand  of  death,  for  I  had  seen  it  too  often  to 
be  mistaken.  Never  shall  I  forget  that  look.  Changed  he  was,  but 
beautiful.  There  was  a  composed  look  of  meek  and  patient  suffer- 
ing; he  looked,  as  if  he  had  quieted  himself  to  die.  His  little  eyes 
were  already  fixed.  He  did  not  know  me.  Oh,  what  a  moment! 
about  an  hour  and  a  half  after  this,  the  last  struggle  commenced.  I 
took  him  in  my  arms  ;  and  in  a  few  minutes,  he  breathed  his  last 
sigh  as  sweetly  as  ever  a  spirit  disencumbered  itself  of  its  earthly 
habitation  ;  and  before  I  knew  it  he  was  in  heaven. 

The  greatest  shock  was  the  first.  But  my  mind  was  unsettled  all 
that,  and  the  next  day.  I  hardly  knew  where,  or  what  I  was.  So 
little  sensible  had  I  been,  how  this  darling  babe  had  entwined  himself 
about  every  fibre  of  my  heart.  On  Monday,  however,  I  was  re- 
lieved and  comforted.  But  that  was  one  of  the  most  solemn  weeks 
of  my  life.  The  strong  and  intense  excitements  of  it  were  almost 
too  much  for  my  feeble  frame.  So  that  when  Elizabeth  was  taken 
sick,  which  was  on  the  next  Sabbath,  I  sunk  at  once.  She  was  soon 
released  from  all  her  sorrows.     And  I  live  to  tell  the  tale — who 


464  MEMOIRS    OF 

knows  how  much  he  is  capable  of  enduring  ?  I  have  since  spent  a 
few  weeks  at  Andover,  and  am  now  quite  well. 

Sister  Mary's  health  is  exceedingly  delicate.  Her  situation  is  in  my 
opinion,  very  critical.  With  unwearied  care,  she  may  live  some 
years ;  or  she  may  soon  be  taken  from  us. 

Our  family,  my  beloved  sister,  seems  to  be  dissolving.  God  smote 
the  head  when  he  called  your  and  my  dear  father,  (for  I  loved  him  as 
a  father :)  and  the  shock  seemed  to  extend  itself  to  the  branches, 
one  after  another  of  which  has,  since  that  time,  withered  and  fallen. 
But  how  sweet,  to  be  permitted  to  believe,  that,  of  all  the  dear  num- 
ber removed,  not  one  is  lost  ?  all  safe,  safe  forever.  God  grant  that 
we  may  meet  them  where  there  is  no  more  death. 

During  the  last  two  years  of  her  life  Mrs.  Huntington  was  troub- 
bled  with  an  affection  of  the  lungs  from  which  she  never  recovered, 
and  which  preyed  upon  her  health  almost  continually.  She  lived  in 
constant  preparation  for  death,  and  loved  life  more  for  the  sake  of  her 
surviving  children  than  for  her  own.  In  them  all  her  earthly  anxieties 
centered,  and  for  them  she  lived,  till  the  summer  of  1823,  when  in 
consequence  of  her  taking  cold  on  Saturday,  July  5th,  her  cough  be- 
came much  worse  and  her  disease  assumed  a  more  painful  and 
alarming  character. 

The  change,  and  her  feelings  in  relation  to  it,  are  thus  described 
by  herself  in  a  postscript  to  a  letter  commenced  June  29th.  "  Since 
I  wrote  the  above,  my  dear  Mrs.  S.,  my  health  has  changed  a  good 
deal.  You  recollect  my  troublesome  cough.  Day  before  yester- 
day, I  spit  a  little  blood,  and  every  day  since  I  have  raised  a  little. 
A  blister  and  a  slight  fever  have  reduced  my  strength,  so  that  I  feel 
that  I  am  a  frail,  dying  creature. 

Dr. is  very  anxious  to  get  me  from  Boston.     He  hopes  a 

change  of  air  will  benefit  me.  I  hope  so  too,  and  think  of  Connecti- 
cut, if  I  can  get  there.  But,  Oh,  how  lonely  I  feel !  Whom  shall 
I  look  to  ?  But  hush  every  word  that  looks  like  complaining.  The 
Lord  has  written  me,  widow  and  desolate ;  and  he  has  done  well. 
Oh,  for  a  heart  to  bless  him  now,  to  bless  him  forever  !  I  need  strong 
faith.  I  cannot  write  much.  You  must  all  love  and  pray  for  me. 
But  we  all  want  love  to,  and  confidence  in  the  blessed  God,  a  thou- 
sand times  more  than  any  thing  else." 

A  second  postscript  to  the  same  letter,  written  by  another  hand, 
and  dated  "  Wednesday  evening,  July  9th,"  is  as  follows,  "  Dear 
Madam.  Thus  far  our  beloved  friend  had  written  to  you.  She  is 
now  unable  to  finish ;  and  has  requested  me  to  do  it,  and  to  inform 
you  of  the  particulars  of  her  case.  It  is  painful  indeed  to  know  it, 
but  you  would  consider  it  cruel  to  keep  you  in  ignorance  of  it.  Last 
evening,  and  but  a  short  time  after  she  had  written  the  above,  she 
was  taken  with  raising  blood  to  a  degree  which  alarmed  us  very 
much.     The  physician  took  nearly  a  pint  of  blood  from  the  arm? 


MRS.    SUSAN    HUNTINGTON.  465 

and  she  was  considerably  relieved  from  the  irritation  on  the  lungs, 
Another  blister  has  also  been  applied,  and  has  drawn  very  well. 
The  doctor  thinks  there  is  no  immediate  danger,  and  hopes  she  will 
recover.  He  wishes  her  to  keep  entirely  quiet,  and  not  to  speak  a 
word.  She  is  very  much  exhausted,  and  the  weather  to-day  has 
been  oppressively  warm.  We  hope  that  the  means  which  are  using, 
will  be  blessed  of  Him  in  whose  hand  is  the  breath  of  every  one, 
and  that  this  precious  woman  may  long  be  continued  to  her  children, 
her  friends,  the  church,  and  the  world.  Many  fervent  prayers  are 
ascending  for  her ;  and  she  will  not  be  forgotten  by  you  and  her  oth- 
er dear  friends  in  Connecticut.  She  is  in  a  very  quiet  and  happy 
frame  of  mind,  sweetly  feeling  that  she  is  in  the  hands  of  her  cove- 
nant God." 

These  hopes  in  regard  to  her  health  were  not  realized.  Every 
effort  which  skill  and  kindness  could  make,  was  made,  for  the  remo- 
val of  her  complaint.  Prayer  was  continually  offered,  by  numerous 
and  ardently  attached  Christian  friends,  for  her  restoration.  But 
she  continued  gradually  to  decline. 

In  the  latter  part  of  August,  she  was  removed  to  the  house  of  a 
friend  in  the  country,  about. ten  miles  from  Boston,  with  the  hope 
that  a  change  of  air  and  scene  might  be  beneficial.  And,  for  a  time, 
she  was  more  comfortable  than  while  in  the  city ;  but  the  progress 
of  her  disease  was  not  interrupted.  While  here,  she  wrote  two  or 
three  short  notes  to  her  children,  none  of  whom  were  with  her.  The 
following  extracts  are  from  one  to  her  son  at  Andover. 

"September  19,  1823. 

"My  beloved  child.  Though  I  am  very  feeble,  I  feel  a  great  de* 
sire  to  write  you  a  few  lines.  My  love  and  anxiety  for  you,  are  great- 
er than  any  but  a  parent  can  know  ;  and  yet  I  tell  you  your  faults. 
I  want  you  to  settle  this  truth  in  your  mind  for  life,  my  J.,  that  he 
is  your  best  friend  who  takes  the  most  pains  to  correct  your  errors. 
Beware  of  the  person  who  tries  to  make  you  think  well  of  yourself, 
especially  when  your  own  conscience  is  not  quite  satisfied. 

20. — Always  love  your  sisters.  Consider  yourself  as,  in  a  sense, 
their  protector  and  guardian.  Write  to  them  often  :  pray  for  them. 
You  are  likely  to  be  left  alone  in  a  strange  world.  So  have  I  been ; 
and 

Thus  far  the  Lord  hath  led  me  on, 

so  that  I  have  never  lacked  any  good  thing.  The  way  has  been  bois- 
terous sometimes, 

Cut  Judah's  Lion  guards  the  way. 
And  guides  the  travellers  home. 

Make  this  friend  yours. — But  1  must  close.  Love  Mr.  C,  always 
love  him.  He  is  one  of  your  best  friends  ;  and  faithful  friends  are 
not  very  plenty  in  this  treacherous  world,  my  J.     But,  oh  1  that  I 

59 


466 


MEMOIRS  OF 


could  see  you  securing  the  friendship  of  your  God.  Remember,  hh 
vows  are  upon  you,  and  you  cannot,  must  not,  go  back.  Farewell,, 
beloved  child.     The  Lord  be  with  you  continually." 

About  the  close  of  the  month  of  September,  she  desired  the  phy- 
sician then  attending  her  to  inform  her,  definitely  and  frankly,  wheth- 
er there  was,  in  his  opinion,  any  prospect  of  her  recovery.  His  an- 
swer was  in  the  negative.  She  received  it,  with  some  feeling,  but 
with  submission,  and  thanked  him  for  his  kindness  in  being  so  ex- 
plicit. 

On  the  third  of  October,  she  was  removed  again  to  her  residence 
in  Boston ;  and  proceeded  immediately,  to  set  her  house  in  order, 
in  preparation  for  death.  She  had  an  interview  with  the  gentleman 
who  has  since,  in  compliance  with  the  request  then  made,  been  ap- 
pointed guardian  to  her  children.  She  saw,  or  wrote  to,  the  friends 
who  have  kindly  undertaken  the  charge  of  their  education.  The  fol- 
lowing is  an  extract  from  one  of  her  letters  on  this  subject,  dated 
October  20,  1823.  "  My  dear  M.  How  I  have  longed  to  see  you. 
Your  mother  said  you  would  be  here,  and  I  have  expected  it  with 
great  anxiety.  She  said  you  would  take  S.  Will  you  be  her  moth- 
er ?  Will  your  husband  be  her  father.  ?  Will  you  watch  over  this 
dear  child  ? — Yes,  you  will,  and  I  shall  die  easy  on  this  point.  God 
helps  me  to  trust  the  promise,  "  Leave  thy  fatherless  children,  I  will 
preserve  them." 

"  My  strength  decays.  I  have  scarcely  any  appetite.  But  my 
Savior  lays  under  me  his  everlasting  arm  ;  and  I  trust  that  all  is  well, 
and  will  be  well  forever.  Pray  that  I  may  have  his  presence,  and 
that  I  may  glorify  him  to  the  end.     Farewell,  beloved  friend." 

During  her  illness,  her  pastor  had  frequent  interviews  with  her. 
She  at  one  time,  about  a  fortnight  after  the  first  bleeding  from  her 
lungs,  had  some  doubts  and  fears  in  regard  to  the  genuineness  of  her 
religious  experience.  Her  apprehension  was,  that  she  might  never 
have  been  truly  humbled  for  sin.  But  the  feelings  which  this  ap- 
prehension excited,  were  of  such  a  character  as  to  furnish  to  others, 
the  most  satisfactory  evidence  of  her  piety ;  as  they  clearly  evinc- 
ed a  deep  and  practical  conviction,  that,  without  the  light  of  God's 
countenance,  there  can  be  no  real  happiness.  The  cloud  was,  how- 
ever, soon  dissipated  ;  and,  from  that  time  till  her  death,  she  was  fa- 
vored with  uniform  peace  of  mind. 

Her  pastor,  usually  when  other  engagements  did  not  prevent,  made 
brief  minutes,  upon  returning  home  from  visiting  her,  of  the  conver- 
sation during  the  interview.  A  few  of  these,  as  a  specimen,  will  be 
here  inserted. 

"  Tuesday,  October  28,  1823. — Called  on  Mrs.  Huntington  about 
half  past  nine  in  the  morning,  found  that  she  had  failed  considerably 
since  my  last  visit.  To  an  inquiry  in  relation  to  the  state  of  her 
mind  since  Friday,  she  replied,  "  I  think  I  have  felt  more  of  the 
presence  of  Christ  than  I  did  when  I  saw  you  last.     I  have  not  had 


MRS.    SUSAN    HUNTINGTON.  467 

those  strong  views  and  joyful  feelings,  with  which  I  have  sometimes 
been  favored.  My  mind  is  weak,  and  I  cannot  direct  and  fix  my 
thoughts  as  I  once  could.  But  I  think  1  have  fled  for  refuge  to  lay 
hold  on  the  hopes  set  before  me  in  the  precious  Gospel ;  and  He, 
who  is  the  foundation  of  that  hope,  will  never  forsake  me."  Then, 
with  a  most  interesting  expression  of  countenance  she  said,  "I  trust 
we  shall  meet  in  heaven,  and  spend  an  eternity  in  praising  our  dear 
Redeemer."  It  was  replied,  "  we  shall,  if  we  give  him  our  hearts, 
and  continue  faithful  to  him  unto  the  end."  "  I  feel,"  she  answered 
"  that  I  have  been  very,  very  unfaithful.  But  he  is  merciful,  his 
blood  cleanseth  from  all  sin,  and  1  trust  he  has  blotted  my  sins  from 
the  book  of  his  remembrance.  Oh,  what  should  we  do  without 
Christ?"  "  As  much  debtors,"  it  was  remarked,  "  to  free  grace  at 
the  end  of  our  course  as  when  we  begin  it."  "  More,"  she  replied, 
"  far  more  ;  for  we  sin  against  greater  light  and  love,  after  we  are 
born  again.  Yes,  it  is  all  of  free  grace.  If  it  were  not  what  would 
become  of  me?"  It  was  answered,  "you  would  have  perished, 
justly  perished  ;  but  now,  when  you  enter  heaven,  you  will  stand  be- 
fore the  angels,  a  monument  of  God's  justice  as  well  as  of  his  free 
grace,  for  he  is  just  in  justifying  those  that  believe  in  Jesus."  "Yes," 
she  replied  ;  "  what  a  glorious  plan  !  what  a  precious  Savior  I  oh, 
that  I  could  love  him  more  !  pray  that  I  may  love  and  glorify  him 
forever." 

"  On  Friday  October  31st,  at  nine  o'clock  A.  M.  found  her  more 
comfortable  than  on  Tuesday  last.  She  said,  "  my  mind  has  gene- 
rally been  in  a  peaceful  frame  since  I  saw  you.  But  I  want  to  rea- 
lize the  presence  and  preciousness  of  Christ,  more  distinctly  and 
constantly  than  my  great  weakness  permits  me  to  do."  Some  re- 
marks were  made  respecting  the  provisions  of  the  covenant  of  Grace 
as  adapted  to  all  our  weaknesses.  "  The  bible,"  it  was  said,  "  tells 
us  that,  ;  he  knoweth  our  frame,  he  remembereth  that  we  are  dust ;' 
'a  bruised  reed  shall  he  not  break,  and  the  smoking  flax  shall  he  not 
quench ;'  ;  we  have  not  an  high  priest  which  cannot  be  touched 
with  the  feeling  of  our  infirmities,  but  was  in  all  points  tempted  like 
as  we  are,  yet  without  sin.  Let  us  therefore,  come  boldly  unto  the 
throne  of  grace,  that  we  may  obtain  mercy,  and  find  grace  to  help 
in  time  of  need.' "  She  said,  "  glorious  covenant !  precious  promises ! 
I  have  given  myself,  soul  and  body,  to  Him  in  whom  they  are  all 
yea  and  amen,  and  I  do  not  fear.  I  desire  to  have  him  do  with  me 
as  it  shall  please  him." 

"  Friday,  November  7.- — To  the  usual  inquiry  respecting  the  state 
of  her  mind,  she  said,  Mrs.  Graham  accurately  describes  my  feel- 
ings, when  she  says,  "  thus  far  has  the  Lord  brought  me  through 
the  wilderness,  bearing,  chastising,  forgiving,  restoring.  I  am  near 
to  Jordan's  flood.  May  my  blessed  high  priest,  and  ark  of  the  cov- 
enant lead  on  my  staggering  steps  the  little  further  I  have  to  go."*     I 

*  See  Life  and  Writings  of  Mrs.  Isabella  Graham,  p.  161,  third  New  York  edition. 


468  MEMOIRS,    &C. 

have  had  no  rapturous  views  of  the  heaven  to  which  I  hope  I  am 
going,  no  longings  to  depart.  But  I  have  generally  been  enabled  to 
feel  a  calm  submission,  and  to  realize  the  fullness  and  the  precious- 
ness  of  the  Savior.  I  desire  to  feel  perfect  resignation  to  the  will  of 
God,  because  it  is  his  will.  O  how  sweet,  to  be  willing  to  be 
just  where,  and  just  what  God  pleases  ;  to  rejoice  that  the  Lord  God 
omnipotent  reigneth,  and  worketh  all  things  after  the  counsel  of  his 
own  will.  This,  in  its  perfection,  is  I  think,  a  principal  source  of 
the  happiness  of  heaven.  Pray  that  God  would  enable  me  to  he] 
thus  while  suffering  from  weakness  and  pain,  and  entering  the  dark 
valley." 

Frequently,  during  her  sickness,  she  had  expressed  to  her  pastor, 
a  desire  that  he  would,  if  possible,  be  with  her  in  her  last  moments. 
On  Thursday  December  4th,'^  he  was  informed,  about  three  o'clock 
in  the  afternoon,  that  she  had  failed  greatly  since  morning,  and  would 
probably  survive  but  a  little  longer.  He  immediately  repaired  to  her 
residence  and  found  her  sleeping,  but  very  restless  and  breathing 
with  great  difficulty.  She  continued  in  this  state,  except  that  respi- 
ration became  constantly  more  difficult,  through  the .  afternoon  and 
evening.  About  eleven  o'clock  the  difficulty  of  breathing  became 
so  great,  as  to  overcome  the  disposition  to  slumber.  Intelligence,  it 
was  found,  still  remained.  She  was  asked  "  if  she  knew  that  she 
was  near  her  end."  She  answered  by  a  sign  in  the  affirmative.  It 
was  said,  "  I  hope  you  feel  the  presence  of  the  Savior  sustaining  and 
comforting  you."  She  assented.  "Your  faith  and  hope  in  him  are 
unshaken  ?"  Her  reply  was  in  the  affirmative. — A  few  minutes  after, 
her  sight  failed  ;  and,  at  twenty  minutes  past  eleven,  her  spirit  enter- 
ed into  rest. 

Her  end  was  full  of  peace, 

Fitting  her  uniform  piety  serene, 

'Twas  rather  the  deep  humble  calm  of  faith, 

Than  her  high  triumph;  and  resembled  more 

The  unnoticed  setting  of  a  clear  day's  sun, 

Than  his  admired  departure  in  a  blaze 

Of  glory,  bursting  from  a  clouded  course. 

From  the  Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Huntington,  by  the  Rev.  B.  B.  Wisner,  D.  D.,  late- 
pastor  of  the  Old  South  Church  in  Boston,  now  Secretary  of  the  American  Board  of 
Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions, 


469 


xlIISS  CAROLINE  ELIZABETH  SMELT* 


Miss  Caroline  Elizabeth  Smelt,  the  subject  of  the  following 
narrative,  was  born  in  the  city  of  Augusta,  in  the  state  of  Georgia, 
on  the  Lord's  day  morning,  December  28th,  1800.  Her  ancestors, 
so  far  as  is  known,  were  respectable.  Her  father,  Doctor  Dennis 
Smelt,  was  born  in  Essex  county,  in  the  state  of  Virginia,  on  the 
23d  day  of  November,  1763.  His  father,  the  Rev.  John  Smelt, 
was  a  clergyman  of  the  Episcopal  church  ;  he  was  born  in  England, 
educated  at  Oxford,  and  emigrated  to  America  in  early  life,  where 
he  married  a  lady  of  Virginia,  who  gave  birth  to  the  Doctor. 

Doctor  Smelt  was  educated  at  William  and  Mary  College,  in  his 
native  state.  In  the  year  1786  he  went  to  England,  for  the  purpose 
of  completing  his  medical  studies;  where  he  remained  three  years, 
and  then  returned  to  his  native  land.  The  state  of  Georgia,  at  that 
time,  offered  many  attractions  to  young  men  of  talents  and  enter- 
prise. Accordingly,  the  Doctor  determined  on  removing  thither, 
and  selected  Augusta  as  the  place  of  his  future  residence,  where  he 
settled  in  1789.  Here  his  medical  skill  and  industrious  attention  to 
the  duties  of  his  profession,  soon  procured  him  a  large  share  of  pub- 
lic confidence,  as  well  as  an  extensive  and  lucrative  practice. 

In  the  year  1806,  he  was  elected,  by  his  fellow  citizens,  as  a  mem- 
ber to  represent  them  in  the  Congress  of  the  United  States.  After 
acting  five  years  in  this  capacity,  he  retired  from  the  service  of  his 
country,  to  repose  in  the  bosom  of  his  family. 

In  the  year  1798  he  received  in  marriage  the  hand  of  Miss  Mary 
Cooper,  an  amiable  and  accomplished  young  lady  of  Augusta. 

Miss  Caroline  was  not  the  first  child  of  her  parents.  A  son,  named 
John,  was  the  first  pledge  of  their  wedded  love.  This  son  afforded 
his  parents  all  that  happiness,  in  prospect,  which  a  promising  infant 
could  possibly  furnish,  during  thirteen  months.  It  pleased  Him  who 
"blessed  little  children,"  to  take  this  interesting  child  from  his  earth- 
ly parents,  at  that  early  age,  to  be  with  himself. 

About  four  months  after  this  bereavement,  the  hearts  of  these  par- 
ents were  gladdened  by  the  birth  of  a  daughter ;  and  this  daughter 
was  Caroline  Elizabeth.  From  early  childhood,  she  discovered 
strong  marks  of  an  intelligent  mind,  blended  with  much  meekness, 
modesty,  and  benevolence  of  disposition.  At  the  age  of  eighteen 
months,  she  was  uncommonly  engaging  and  interesting.  She  could, 
even  then,  repeat  many  little  prayers  with  such  a  distinct  articulation 
as  is  not  usual  at  that  tender  age.  When  only  two  years  old,  she 
could   repeat  a  number  of  short  instructive  lessons,  which  she  had 


470  MEMOIRS  OF 

committed  to  memory,  and  deliver  them  with  such  pathos,  propriety 
of  emphasis,  and  expression  of  countenance,  as  to  surprise  and  grati- 
fy all  who  heard  her. 

In  her  eighth  year,  she  was  called  to  experience  a  most  afflictive 
dispensation  of  Divine  Providence,  in  the  death  of  a  darling  little 
sister,  who  was  three  years  younger  than  herself.  She  was  greatly 
grieved,  but  displayed  much  resignation  to  the  will  of  God  ;  and  di- 
rected her  sympathy  and  affectionate  condolence,  to  the  consolation 
of  her  afflicted  mother.  Mrs.  Smelt  had  enjoyed  but  feeble  health 
for  several  years,  and  her  mind  had  been  deeply  exercised,  in  seek- 
ing to  secure  the  best  interests  of  her  own  soul.  This  bereavement 
laid  her  low  in  the  valley  of  humiliation.  She  was  visited  by  many 
pious  friends  and  ministers  of  the  gospel.  When  her  mother  was 
engaged  in  conversation  with  them,  reading  the  Scriptures,  or  other 
religious  works,  little  Caroline  would  give  her  whole  attention  to  the 
subject,  and  she  has  since  told  her  mother,  that  from  that  period  she 
dated  the  first  perceptible  operations  of  divine  grace  upon  her  heart. 
For,  said  she,  "  so  clear  was  my  comprehension  of  the  plan  of  sal- 
vation through  a  Redeemer,  that  I  understood  it  as  well,  and  believ- 
ed in  it  as  firmly,  at  eight  years  of  age,  as  I  do  now  on  my  death 
bed."  She  also  observed,  "  that  it  had  often  been  a  matter  of  as- 
tonishment to  her,  even  at  that  early  period,  that  she  should  have 
had  such  clear  conceptions  of  a  subject  which  caused  so  much  in- 
vestigation and  doubt  in  the  minds  of  older  persons."  She  was  al- 
ways attentive  to  religious  instruction,  and  at  the  age  just  mentioned 
particularly  so.  Her  mother  never  asked  her  to  retire  with  her,  for 
the  purpose  of  private  prayer,  without  finding  her  ready  and  imme- 
diately willing  to  attend,  let  her  little  engagements  be  what  they 
might.  She  would  bow  on  her  little  knees,  with  so  much  sweet  hu- 
mility, and  so  silently  and  patiently  engage  in  this  solemn  duty,  as  to 
afford  her  affectionate  mother  the  greatest  delight,  particularly  when 
she  could  see  her,  at  the  close  of  the  duty,  wiping  the  precious  tears 
from  her  infantile  cheeks. 

She  was  early  distinguished  for  her  love  of  truth ;  insomuch,  that 
she  was  frequently  called  upon  to  decide  little  disputes  in  school ;  it 
being  generally  admitted  by  the  contending  parties,  that  Caroline 
Smelt  would  not  tell  a  falsehood,  even  to  screen  herself  from  cen- 
sure. Her  friends  have  no  recollection  of  her  ever  having  deserved 
a  reproof  for  deviating  from  strict  veracity.  She  viewed  falsehood 
as  one  of  the  most  degrading  and  unprofitable  vices,  and  a  very  high 
offence  against  Him  who  knoweth  all  things.  Neither  did  she  coun- 
tenance or  practice  tale-bearing.  So  far  did  she  carry  this  princi- 
ple, as  to  suffer  herself  sometimes  to  be  grossly  imposed  upon,  rather 
than  make  a  complaint,  lest  she  might  be  called  a  tell-tale. 

To  her  relations  she  was  affable  and  companionable,  while  yet  a 
child ;  but  her  extreme  diffidence,  or  timid  modesty,  prevented  her 
from  communicating  her  ideas  on  any  subject,  with  freedom,  except 


MISS    CAROLINE    ELIZABETH    SMELT,  471 

to  those  with  whom  she  was  well  acquainted.  To  such  she  was 
tree  and  communicative,  and  her  conversation  frequently  afforded 
them  instruction  and  delight.  Her  language  was  pure  ;  her  expres- 
sions select ;  and  her  observations  far  beyond  her  years. 

She  appeared  to  attach  no  importance  to  herself  on  account  of 
her  being  an  only  child  ;  nor  did  she  infer  from  this,  that  she  had 
any  claim  to  extraordinary  indulgence.  On  the  contrary,  she  said 
"  it  humbled  her;  for  it  became  her  duty  to  strive  to  be  every  thing 
to  her  parents,  that  they  might  not  grieve  too  much  after  those  chil- 
dren they  had  lost." 

When  she  was  twelve  years  old,  she  was  highly  gratified  by  the 
birth  of  a  little  sister.  On  this  occasion  her  joy  was  beyond  de- 
scription. A  certain  female  neighbor  expressed  her  surprise  at  see- 
ing Caroline  so  delighted,  as  "  it  might  have  been  expected  that  she 
would  have  been  disappointed,  rather  than  pleased,  that  the  child 
was  not  a  boy;  for  now,  the  little  stranger  would  stand  on  equal 
ground  with  herself,  and  her  importance  would  probably  be  dimin- 
ished." She  replied,  she  was  very  sorry  that  any  person  should  en- 
tertain so  contracted  an  opinion  of  her  heart.  She  could,  with  great 
sincerity,  declare  that  she  was  much  happier  than  she  should  have 
been  if  it  had  been  a  boy;  and  gave  her  reasons  at  full  length,  which 
silenced  the  friend.     Some  time  afterwards  she  said  to  her  mother, 

"  Mamma,  do  you  think  our  neighbor was  in  earnest  when 

she  gave  such  an  opinion  ?  I  do  not  approve  of  jests,  at  any  time? 
or  on  any  subject;  and  I  never  have  taken,  nor  ever  will,  if  I  can 
help  it,  take  such  a  liberty  with  any  one.  I  am  sure  I  feel  so  much 
gratitude  to  Providence  for  blessing  me  with  a  beautiful  little  sister, 
that  I  would  be  willing  that  you,  even  you,  should  love  her  a  great 
deal  better  (if  that  is  possible)  than  you  do  me." 

She  now  proved  that  she  did  indeed  love  living  babes ;  for  greater 
tenderness  or  affection  perhaps  was  never  witnessed  than  she  testified 
towards  this  little  treasure.  But,  alas !  in  rather  less  than  a  year 
after  its  birth,  it  was  called  to  the  arms  of  that  Savior  who  had  con- 
descended to  bless  such  little  ones  while  he  sojourned  here  on  earth. 
This  was  the  second  time  Caroline  had  felt  the  pain  of  separation 
from  an  only  sister ;  but  her  grief  was  tempered  with  sweet  submis- 
sion to  the  decree  of  unerring  wisdom.  She,  nevertheless,  discov- 
ered great  sensibility  whenever  this  child  was  mentioned,  and  could 
seldom  suppress  her  tears  on  such  occasions. 

At  the  close  of  her  thirtenth  year,  Caroline  had  attained  the  stat- 
ure of  a  woman.  Being  tall  and  slender,  her  close  application  to 
study,  and  the  death  of  her  little  sister,  occasioned  her  health  (which 
had  always  before  been  good)  to  become  rather  delicate.  A  journey 
was  advised ;  and  accordingly,  in  the  spring  of  1814  she  set  out,  ac- 
companied by  her  mother,  on  a  journey  to  New  York,  to  visit  a  num- 
ber of  beloved  relations  who  resided  in  that  city.  On  this  journey 
she  was  also  accompanied  by  her  cousin,  Cornelia  Walker,  who  had 


472  MEMOIRS  OF 

been  as  a  companion  and  sister  to  her,  from  early  childhood.  A  de- 
tail of  the  incidents  which  occurred  during  that  journey,  will  not  be 
attempted. 

They  travelled  by  land ;  and  before  they  had  proceeded  three 
hundred  miles,  Mrs.  Smelt  had  the  happiness  to  see  her  daughter's 
health  improving  daily.  They  spent  some  time,  for  the  purpose  of 
rest,  in  all  the  principal  towns  and  cities  which  lay  on  their  way  to 
New  York ;  but^  made  a  considerable  stay  near  Richmond,  in  Vir- 
ginia, as  they  had  relations  in  its  neighborhood.  The  young  ladies 
were  delighted  with  all  they  saw.  Every  city  opened  upon  their 
youthful  vision,  like  a  new  world  ;  Caroline's  health  still  improving, 
and  her  mind  expanding  more  and  more. 

When  they  reached  New  York,  it  was  about  the  last  of  May. 
Her  friends  there  considered  Caroline's  health  still  rather  delicate ; 
but  her  mother  regarded  it  as  sufficiently  restored  to  qualify  her  for 
resuming  her  studies.  Accordingly,  as  soon  as  she  was  perfectly 
rested,  after  the  fatigue  of  the  journey,  Mrs.  Smelt  placed  her  at  an 
excellent  school,  designing  to  leave  her  there  a  year  or  two,  if  she 
could  receive  greater  advantages  for  education  in  that  city  than  she 
could  at  home.  To  this  scheme  Caroline  could  not  willingly  assent; 
and  offered  such  reasons  for  her  opposition  as  determined  her  mother 
to  bring  her  home  with  her. 

Having  spent  eight  months  in  travelling  and  visiting  their  friends, 
they  returned  home  by  the  same  route  by  which  they  had  gone ; 
after  which,  Caroline  resumed  her  studies  partly  under  private  in- 
structors. At  this  period  she  manifested  an  increasing  ambition  to 
acquire  literary  knowledge,  which  her  mother  feared  would  occupy 
her  whole  attention,  to  the  exclusion  of  every  other  consideration. 
Mrs.  Smelt  frequently  admonished  her,  at  least  to  equalize  her  atten- 
tion, and  not  devote  the  whole  of  her  time  to  that,  which,  however 
laudable  in  itself,  she  was  carrying  to  an  extreme.  To  this  Caroline 
would  reply,  that  she  was  desirous  of  obtaining  all  the  useful  knowl- 
edge she  could ;  that  she  wished  to  meet  the  expectations  of  her 
friends,  and  to  lay  up  for  herself  a  plentiful  store  of  information  while 
she  was  young,  and  unincumbered  with  cares  or  pleasures.  She  has 
since  confessed,  that  the  thirst  for  human  knowledge  had  excited  in 
her  mind  so  much  ambition  to  be  considered  learned,  and  to  be  dis- 
tinguished for  her  intellectual  attainments,  that  she  frequently  feared 
her  desires  to  be  a  Christian  were  suffering  considerable  abatement ; 
that  her  judgment  was  not  sufficiently  matured  to  enable  her  rightly 
to  divide  her  time ;  that  she  stood  in  great  need  of  the  admonitory 
cautions,  which  she  used  to  receive  from  her  mother,  as  they  gener- 
ally tended  to  humble  her  aspiring  notions,  and  bring  her  to  serious 
reflections.  She,  at  the  same  time,  observed  that  she  could  with 
great  truth  declare  that  she  had  never  felt  the  least  tincture  of  vani- 
ty in  her  nature,  except  what  arose  from  the  compliments  which  her 
friends  had  paid  to  her  understanding.     "But,"  said  she,  "the  good- 


MISS    CAROLINE    ELIZABETH    SMELT.  473 

ness  of  Providence  soon  quelled  this  foolish  spirit,  by  showing  me, 
that  to  whom  much  is  given,  of  the  same  much  will  be  required." 
And  resuming  the  conversation  at  another  time,  she  said,  "  My  be- 
loved mother,  how  thankful  do  I  feel  that  I  was  brought,  through 
grace,  to  see  there  was  time  for  all  things ;  that  the  improvement  of 
my  youthful  mind  need  not  exclude  piety,  but  that  both  could  sweet- 
ly harmonize ;  and  every  talent  intrusted  to  my  care,  when  properly 
exercised,  might  redound  to  the  glory  of  God.  Instead  of  being 
vain,  I  now  feel  a  double  weight  of  responsibility ;  but  I  desire  that 
my  friends  may  never  compliment  me  again  ;  it  may  prove  unprofit- 
able. I  would  thank  them  much  more,  if  they  would  kindly  tell  me 
of  my  faults.  I  fondly  hope  my  vanity  and  foolish  ambition  were 
buried  at  the  same  time ;  and  that  too,  before  any,  but  a  mother's 
eye,  had  discerned  them ;  but  I  wish  to  avoid  every  thing  that  might 
rouse  their  ashes." 

Thus  employed,  in  pursuing  such  an  education  as  became  her 
birth,  her  fortune,  and  future  prospects  in  life,  she  continued  to  de- 
light her  parents,  and  increase  the  number  of  her  friends,  by  exhib- 
iting every  virtue,  and  performing  every  filial  duty  which  the  fond 
solicitude  of  parental  affection  could  desire  or  expect  from  a  daugh- 
ter of  her  age,  until  she  had  completed  her  fifteenth  year. 

She  had  now  arrived  at  the  period  when  she  was  about  to  be 
ushered  into  society  as  a  young  lady.  Her  principles  were  pure,  her 
manners  dignified,  and  extremely  modest.  She  was  unaffected,  in- 
telligent, and  inoffensive ;  graceful,  meek,  and  affectionate.  Her 
mother  saw  much  to  gratify  her  fond  heart,  but  her  mind  was  not 
free  from  maternal  anxiety.  The  eternal  welfare  of  this  beloved 
daughter  lay  near  her  heart. 

Mrs.  Smelt  had  long  ere  this  time  cherished  a  hope  that  her  be- 
loved Caroline  was  a  child  of  grace ;  but  she  now  feared  that  she 
might  be  drawn  into  various  temptations,  be  allured  by  worldly 
amusements,  contract  a  fondness  for  gay  society,  and  thereby  lose 
her  religious  impressions.  She  regretted  the  want  of  a  regular  min- 
istry. The  ill  health  of  Dr.  Thompson,  who  was  their  pastor  at  that 
time,  subjected  his  congregation  to  many  privations.  Therefore,  the 
only  resource  of  her  mother's  mind,  in  her  then  trying  circumstances, 
appeared  to  be  a  steady  application  to  a  throne  of  grace  in  her  child's 
behalf,  together  with  the  use  of  such  methods  and  admonitions  as 
might  appear  most  proper  to  counteract  the  influence  of  the  world. 
She  was  soon  surprised  to  see  her  daughter  show  no  fondness  for 
parties  of  pleasure,  and  to  hear  her  express  great  wonder,  that  ra- 
tional beings  could  be  so  delighted  with  them.  She  several  times 
observed  to  her  mother,  that  she  did  not  think  it  profitable  or  right 
in  serious  people,  to  countenance  so  much  folly  and  extravagance  in 
what  were  termed  social  parties ;  and  as  to  her  own  feelings,  she 
could  truly  say  they  afforded  her  neither  pleasure  nor  improvement ; 
that  she  enjoyed  the  society  of  a  few  friends  around  her  father's 

60 


474  MEMOIRS  OF 

fireside,  or  the  perusal  of  a  good  book,  more  than  she  did  any  gay 
amusement. 

Notwithstanding  these  were  her  sentiments,  she  was  often  allured 
to  participate  in  fashionable  follies,  and  for  eight  months  previous  to 
her  acquaintance  with  the  Rev.  Mr.  J.,  she  had  been  much  engaged 
in  worldly  amusements. 

There  are,  no  doubt,  many  who  will  ever  regard  it  as  a  token  of 
the  goodness  of  Divine  Providence,  that  this  ambassador  of  Christ 
was  directed  to  visit  Augusta  at  this  time.  His  visit  was  short,  but 
long  enough  to  afford  a  number  of  persons  an  opportunity  of  becom- 
ing acquainted  with  him,  of  hearing  him  preach  several  times,  and 
of  laying  the  foundation  of  a  friendship  which,  it  is  hoped,  will  con- 
tinue through  eternity.  He  left  them  in  July,  1816,  intending  to  visit 
the  Western  country,  and  uncertain  whether  he  would  return  to  Au- 
gusta. Mrs.  Smelt  requested  an  interest  in  his  prayers,  but  particu- 
larly, that  he  would  remember  her  beloved  Caroline  at  a  throne  of 
grace ;  and  she  felt  a  pleasing  confidence  that  he  did  not  forget  her 
request. 

Shortly  after  this,  the  Presbyterian  church  of  Augusta  being  then 
destitute  of  a  pastor,  Caroline  retired  to  the  country  to  spend  the 
residue  of  the  summer  about  twelve  miles  from  town.  There,  in  the 
society  of  her  sister-cousin,  Cornelia  Walker,  she  promised  herself 
much  satisfaction.  She  had  enjoyed  this  retreat  but  a  few  days  when 
she  was  attacked  with  a  slight  indisposition,  but  which  continued  until 
the  month  of  October.  During  this  indisposition  both  her  parents 
were  frequently  with  her.  Her  mother  observed,  with  deep  concern, 
the  decline  of  her  Caroline's  health ;  but  neither  she  nor  Dr.  Smelt 
could  discover  any  symptoms  to  justify  an  apprehension  of  immediate 
danger.  She  was  not  confined,  nor  did  she  complain  of  any  thing 
but  want  of  appetite  and  consequent  debility.  Her  parents  knew 
her  attachment  to  study,  and  advised  her  to  exercise  more  in  the 
open  air ;  to  put  away,  for  the  present,  her  books,  globes,  maps,  &c. 
and  to  substitute  walking,  riding,  and  swinging,  until  her  strength 
should  be  restored.  She  complied  with  their  wishes,  and  in  a  few 
weeks  appeared  considerably  improved  in  health,  but  not  entirely  welh 

She  returned  home  from  the  country  late  in  October,  her  health 
being  considerable  improved,  yet  still  rather  feeble.  The  church 
which  she  had  usually  attended  was  still  destitute  of  a  pastor.  She 
was  soon  surrounded  by  her  gay  young  friends  and  an  extensive  ac- 
quaintance ;  but  she  seemed  resolved  not  to  be  allured  into  what  she 
then  considered  to  be  criminal  amusements,  and  took  a  decided  stand 
against  them.  Within  a  few  weeks  after  her  return,  the  Rev.  Mr. 
J.  again  visited  Augusta,  and  was  prevailed  on  to  tarry  there  six  or 
eight  months.  Caroline  now  regularly  attended  on  his  ministry,  and 
appeared  to  grow  in  the  knowledge  and  love  of  evangelical  truth. 
Doctor  Smelt's  family  were  frequently  favored  with  the  social  visits 
of  their  pastor,   and  a  pleasing  hope  was  once  more  entertained  by 


MISS  CAROLINE  ELIZABETH   SMELT.  475 

Mrs.  Smelt,  that  her  Caroline  would  soon  make  a  profession  of  her 
faith  in  Christ.  She  could  seldom  prevail  on  her  daughter  to  con- 
verse freely  about  herself.  Whenever  this  subject  was  touched  upon, 
which  lay  nearest  to  her  heart,  tears  would  begin  to  flow  without  one 
word  accompanying  them. 

In  the  course  of  the  winter,  Miss  Caroline  engaged  in  a  Scripture 
class,  composed  of  young  ladies,  for  the  improvement  of  their  knowl- 
edge of  the  Holy  Scriptures.  This  institution  was  projected  and 
patronized  by  Mr.  J.,  and  was  of  incalculable  advantage  to  Miss 
Caroline.  During  the  winter  she  resisted  every  invitation  and  solici- 
tation to  attend  the  dancing  assemblies,  except  one;  and  but  once  did 
she  attend  the  theatre.  On  her  return  from  the  ball  she  informed 
her  mother,  that  she  had  made  a  solemn  resolution  never  to  attend 
another.  This  she  carefully  kept,  and  never  did  attend  another  ball, 
though  she  frequently  engaged  in  private  parties,  but  seldom,  if  ever, 
with  her  own  consent. 

About  this  time  Mrs.  Smelt  felt  unusually  exercised  about  the  eter- 
nal welfare  of  her  daughter,  and  frequently  retired  with  her  to  hold 
secret  prayer.  She  felt  oppressed  with  apprehensions  for  the  life  of 
her  child,  and  to  many  of  her  friends  expressed  a  fear  that  she  should 
lose  her  soon.  To  one  she  said,  "I  fear  that  the  worm  is  already  at 
the  root  of  my  gourd  :  I  feel  an  awful  presentiment  that  my  Caroline 
will  descend  to  an  early  tomb."  To  another  she  said,  "  O  that  my 
child  were  but  right  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord,  I  should  then  feel  more 
comfortable,  and  less  reluctant  to  part  with  her."  To  a  pious  friend 
she  frequently  mentioned  her  apprehensions,  and  intreated  him  to  lay 
her  case  before  the  Lord.  She  saw  that  Caroline  was  serious,  that 
she  had  very  correct  views  of  religion  ;  was  remarkably  tender,  and 
read  the  Scriptures.  She  had  also  good  reason  to  believe  that  she 
was  attentive  to  secret  devotion.  She  listened  attentively  to  pious 
instructions,  while  the  tears  would  flow  down  her  cheeks ;  but  she 
never  could  draw  her  out  in  conversation,  so  as  to  obtain  a  knowledge 
of  her  views  as  it  respected  herself,  nor  could  any  of  her  pious 
friends  succeed  any  better. 

She  was  asked  several  times  by  her  mother,  why  she  observed  so 
much  reserve  on  this  all-important  subject,  and  could  be  so  commu- 
nicative on  any  other  ?  She  once  replied,  "  My  dear  mamma,  I  have 
no  confidence  in  myself;  I  hope  to  do  that  which  is  right  when  J 
shall  have  more  experience.  \  desire  to  belong  to  the  little  flock, 
but  I  am  too  unstable."  On  another  occasion,  she  said  to  her  mother, 
"  I  was  very  much  impressed  under  the  discourse  of  Mr.  J.  last  Sab- 
bath, and  thought  that  he  was  preaching  to  me  exclusively.  I  felt 
very  solemn,  and  made  a  number  of  good  resolutions,  and  hoped  I 
should  be  enabled  to  keep  them.  I  thought  that  I  would,  and  deter- 
mined to  begin  that  day.  But  alas  !  I  had  scarcely  left  the  church 
when  I  was  surrounded  by  a  number  of  my  gay  young  friends,  sev- 
eral of  whom  walked  with  mc,  and  introduced  a  great  deal  of  small 


476  MEMOIRS  OF 

light  chat ;  and  before  I  reached  home,  I  found  all  the  solemnity  oc- 
casioned by  the  sermon  so  nearly  effaced,  that  scarcely  an  impres- 
sion was  left.  I  feel  very  guilty  as  it  is,  but  if  I  were  a  professing 
Christian,  what  dishonor  should  I  bring  on  the  church  ?" 

The  winter  and  spring  passed  away  without  any  very  remarkable 
occurrence.  One  circumstance,  however,  seems  worthy  of  notice,  as 
it  was  referred  to  afterwards.  Some  time  late  in  that  winter  Mr.  J., 
accompanied  by  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  who  was  a  stranger,  came 
to  Doctor  Smelt's  house,  in  order  to  spend  the  evening  with  the  fam- 
ily. In  the  course  of  the  conversation,  Mrs.  Smelt  mentioned  some 
of  the  difficulties  which  she  had  experienced  when  she  was  about  to 
be  made  a  subject  of  the  new  birth.  Caroline  had  often  heard  of 
those  difficulties  before,  and  always  discovered  much  sensibility  on 
such  occasions;  but  this  evening  she  appeared  unusually  impressed, 
insomuch  that  she  took  no  part  in  the  conversation  afterwards.  Mr. 
J.  observing  that  she  was  dejected,  approached  her  seat,  and  with 
affectionate  solicitude  said  to  her,  "  Miss  Caroline,  you  must  not  be 
discouraged  at  what  your  mamma  has  stated ;  the  Lord,  I  hope,  will 
draw  you  by  the  cords  of  love.  Very  few  experience  as  severe  ex- 
ercises of  mind  as  she  did."  He  then  put  into  her  hand  a  small  re- 
ligious tract,  which  she  read  before  she  retired  to  rest,  and  which  ap- 
peared to  comfort  her,  though  she  said  nothing.  Doctor  Smelt  being 
on  a  visit  to  a  sick  lady  in  the  country,  and  Caroline  intending  that 
night  to  sleep  with  her  mother,  the  latter  considered  it  a  good  oppor- 
tunity to  converse  freely  with  her  daughter  on  the  necessity  of  ob- 
taining a  saving  interest  in  Christ.  Caroline  wept ;  they  went  to 
prayer ;  she  sobbed  aloud,  but  still  said  nothing.  After  retiring  to 
bed,  neither  of  them  could  sleep  until  a  very  late  hour. 

From  this  period  Mrs.  Smelt  discovered  a  great  change  in  her 
child.  She  was  often  pensive ;  attached  herself  more  closely  to  her 
mother  than  before,  and  appeared  more  disgusted  with  the  world  than 
ever  ;  more  anxious  for  religious  instruction,  and  more  zealous  in  the 
performance  of  every  duty. 

Her  birth-day  arrived  ;  she  was  sixteen  years  old.  Mr.  J.  called 
in  on  that  day  to  visit  the  family.  Before  leaving  the  house  he  en- 
gaged in  prayer,  and  particularly  in  behalf  of  Miss  Caroline.  She 
was  much  agitated,  but  still  observed  her  usual  taciturnity.  Twelve 
months  afterward,  precisely  at  the  same  hour  of  the  day,  he  was  en- 
gaged in  preaching  her  funeral  sermon ! 

A  few  months  before  this  Doctor  Smelt  and  his  family  had  changed 
their  residence,  in  order  that  their  dwelling  house  might  undergo 
some  repairs.  Miss  Caroline  began  to  express  her  anxiety  to  return 
to  the  house  in  which  she  was  born.  She  said  she  was  attached  to 
every  part  of  it,  but  particularly  to  one  room  ;  she  longed  to  occupy 
that.  Hearing  her  frequently  express  a  desire  to  see  the  house  fin- 
ished, that  they  might  return  to  it,  her  mother  one  day  said  to  her, 
*>  What  has  become  of  your  patience,  my  child  ?     The  work  cannot 


MISS  CAROLINE  ELIZABETH  SMELT.  477 

go  on  faster  than  it  does."  She  replied,  "O  mamma,  I  wish  to  take 
possession  of  my  own  little  room,  it  is  sweetly  adapted  to  study  and 
contemplation ;  and  then  I  shall  be  on  the  same  story  with  you  and 
papa,  and  we  can  so  conveniently  visit  each  others'  apartments ;  for 
I  want  always  to  be  near  you." 

In  a  short  time  she  was  gratified,  and  took  possession  of  this  fa- 
vorite apartment.  Her  health  was  better  than  usual ;  indeed  her 
parents  considered  her  perfectly  well,  and  all  things  appeared  to  go 
on  prosperously  for  a  few  weeks. 

It  was  now  the  month  of  July,  the  sickly  season  approaching  fast, 
and  Mr.  J.,  their  pastor,  about  to  set  out  for  the  North,  to  visit  his 
relations  and  recruit  his  own  health.  These  united  considerations 
contributed  to  depress  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Smelt.  She  was  still  im- 
pressed with  a  presentiment,  that  some  great  trouble  awaited  her  in 
a  short  time ;  and  she  could  not  banish  the  apprehension  from  her 
mind,  that  the  loss  of  her  only  living  child,  would  be  that  trouble» 
The  prospect  of  such  an  event  was  so  distressing,  that  she  mention- 
ed her  uneasiness  to  several  friends,  and  to  Mr.  J.  in  particular, 
and  became  more  than  ever  engaged  for  the  eternal  welfare  of  her 
daughter. 

Mr.  J.  called  to  take  leave  of  the  family  before  his  departure, 
After  he  left  the  house,  Mrs.  Smelt  retired  and  left  Caroline  in  the 
room  by  herself.  On  her  mother's  return,  she  was  found  sitting  in 
the  same  spot  where  she  had  been  left,  still  holding  a  book  in  her 
hand,  which  she  had  just  received  as  a  parting  gift  from  her  pastor. 
She  appeared  much  dejected.  Her  mother  seated  herself  by  her, 
and  entered  into  a  detail  of  the  advantages  that  might  result  from 
their  acquaintance  with  Mr.  J.  if  they  followed  his  counsels,  and  im- 
proved them  as  they  ought.  Caroline  then  expressed  her  deep  re- 
gret that  the  church  would  again  be  shut  up  ;  and  wished  that  Mr.  J. 
could  have  been  prevailed  on  to  stay  the  year  out,  for  she  was  very 
sure  he  could  not  be  more  wanted  any  where  else. 

While  the  Presbyterian  house  of  worship  was  shut  up  Mrs.  Smelt 
and  her  daughter  determined  to  attend  the  Methodist  chapel,  the 
worthy  pastor  of  that  congregation  being  a  man  of  exalted  piety. 
For  several  Sabbaths  they  attended  the  Sunday-school,  which  af- 
forded Caroline  the  highest  satisfaction.  She  resolved  to  make  ap- 
plication for  instructing  a  female  class,  but  on  the  13th  of  August 
her  mother  was  taken  sick,  and  she  never  afterwards  had  an  oppor- 
tunity. 

When  Mrs.  Smelt  was  taken  ill,  the  first  symptoms  gave  reason 
to  believe  that  she  would  have  a  severe  attack.  The  fever  which 
had  appeared  in  the  city  was  raging  with  great  violence.  She  had 
been  much  exposed  to  it,  and  for  four  or  five  days  and  nights  pre- 
vious to  her  attack,  she  had  been  sitting  up  and  attending  to  an  or- 
phan  child,  who  died  that  evening,  in  the  fourteenth  year  of  her  age. 
Finding  herself  unwell,  and  the  child  dying,  she  returned  home,  sta  - 


478  MEMOIRS  OF 

ted  the  little  sufferer's  situation  to  her  daughter,  but  did  not  mention 
her  own  symptoms.  Caroline  expressed  a  desire  to  see  the  dying 
orphan,  as  she  had  never  seen  any  person  die.  Apprehensive  that 
she  might  take  the  fever,  or  be  greatly  alarmed,  her  mother  hesitated. 
At  length  she  committed  her  to  the  care  of  a  merciful  God,  and,  with 
uncommon  fervor,  implored  that  He  would  sanctify  this  visit  to  the 
chamber  of  death,  to  the  heart  of  her  beloved  daughter.  The  result 
evinced  that  her  prayers  were  heard  and  answered. 

Caroline  went :  the  distance  was  only  to  the  next  door.  She 
staid  some  time ;  returned,  and  reported  the  little  girl  to  be  in  con- 
vulsive agonies.  She  could  not  stay  to  see  the  end  ;  such  sufferings 
she  had  never  before  witnessed.  She  was  bathed  in  tears,  and  over- 
whelmed with  sorrow.  Her  fears  were  immediately  excited  on  her 
mother's  account,  because  she  saw  that  she  was  ill.  She  afterwards 
informed  her  mother,  that  she  had  never  tasted  the  bitterness  of  sor- 
row until  that  night ;  that  her  soul  was  in  deep  anguish,  and  her  heart 
near  bursting.  On  this  occasion,  her  appearance  was  peculiarly  in- 
teresting. 

After  this  Caroline  appeared  to  throw  off  all  restraint  in  conver- 
sing with  her  mother  on  the  subject  of  experimental  religion  ;  and  in 
the  course  of  five  or  six  days  Mrs.  Smelt  was  restored  to  a  comfort- 
able measure  of  health. 

Caroline  now  appeared  to  attach  herself  to  her  mother  more  than 
ever — seemed  reluctant  to  leave  her,  even  to  attend  to  common  du- 
ties— would  often  invite  her  into  her  room,  in  order  to  have  social 
conversation,  or  that  they  might  read  to  each  other.  When  Mrs. 
Smelt  was  obliged  to  leave  her,  she  would  entreat  her  to  return  as 
soon  as  possible ;  and  on  returning,  her  mother  would  frequently 
find  her  reading  the  scriptures. 

A  short  time  before  she  was  taken  sick,  she  engaged  with  two 
other  ladies  to  make  a  collection  for  the  poor.  Very  many  of  that 
class  in  the  city  bounds  were  in  great  affliction,  and  required  some 
public  effort  to  be  made  for  their  relief.  On  the  morning  of  that 
day  on  which  they  were  to  commence  their  benevolent  operations, 
she  hesitated — indeed  shed  tears,  and  said  that  she  felt  such  reluc- 
tance and  timidity,  she  wished  to  be  excused.  Her  father  and  mo- 
ther both  gave  her  every  encouragement — desired  her  to  lay  aside 
her  fears,  and  to  look  only  at  the  magnitude  and  importance  of  the 
object.  She  wiped  away  her  tears — summoned  up  resolution  to  go 
forth,  and  in  a  few  hours  they  collected  more  than  six  hundred  dol- 
lars from  the  charitable  inhabitants  of  the  city.  When  Caroline  saw 
the  success  which  had  attended  this,  their  first  effort  of  the  kind,  she 
said,  "  well  mamma,  how  delightful  is  the  path  of  duty  !  my  poor 
timid  nature  shrunk  from  the  task  before  me  this  morning ;  and  if 
you  and  papa  had  not  encouraged  me  as  you  did,  I  should  have  staid 
at  home  and  done  nothing  for  the  poor  this  day.  I  am  now  thankful 
that  I  went,  though  I  am  very  sure  I  did  not  aid  the  cause  much,  for 


MISS    CAROLINE    ELIZABETH    SMELT.  479 

I  asked  but  one  person  to  contribute  his  mite,  and  that  was  an  inti- 
mate acquaintance.  I  carried  the  purse  and  left  all  the  begging  to 
the  other  two  ladies.  However  I  feel  pleasant  this  evening  in  reflec- 
ting on  the  events  of  the  day,  and  hope  I  may  be  more  useful  in  fu- 
ture." She  appeared  in  better  health  than  usual,  from  this  period  to 
the  day  on  which  she  was  attacked  with  the  fatal  fever,  which  termi- 
nated her  life.  Indeed,  her  health  for  several  preceding  months  had 
been  considered  by  her  parents  as  being  very  good. 

On  the  morning  of  the  28th  of  August,  somewhat  more  than  a 
fortnight  after  her  painful  exercises  about  her  mother,  Caroline  was 
sitting  in  her  own  room,  in  cheerful  conversation  with  her  mother  and 
another  female  friend.  She  after  some  time,  laid  down  her  sewing 
and  walked  into  her  mother's  room.  Mrs.  Smelt,  finding  that  her 
daughter  did  not  return  immediately,  after  some  delay,  followed  her 
and  found  her  extended  on  her  bed.  She  observed  that  Caroline  look- 
ed very  pale,  and  inquired  the  cause.  Caroline  very  calmly  replied 
that  she  felt  very  unwell — that  she  had  been  seized  with  a  sudden  ver- 
tigo— that  she  found  the  bed  a  very  timely  relief,  for  she  could  not  bal- 
ance herself — that  she  then  felt  much  better  and  would  soon  get  up. 
Mrs.  Smelt  then  called  her  husband,  the  doctor,  into  the  room,  who  ex- 
amined her  pulse,  and  applied  some  volatiles  to  his  daughter's  head ; 
after  which,  she  was  soon  so  much  relieved,  as  to  be  able  to  get  up, 
dress  herself,  and  join  the  family  at  dinner,  in  her  usual  spirits. 
But,  in  the  course  of  that  night  a  most  violent  fever  came  on,  which 
was  never  perfectly  subdued. 

September  1st. — This  was  a  day  never  to  be  forgotten  by  Mrs. 
Smelt :  her  feelings  were  such  as  cannot  be  described — no  language 
can  convey  an  adequate  idea  of  them.  She  saw  her  child  ill  and 
feared  the  worst.  She  strove  repeatedly  to  entreat  the  Lord  to  spare 
her  daughter's  life  ;  but  seemed  as  if  she  could  not  pray.  At  length 
she  prostrated  herself  before  God  time  after  time,  and  implored  the 
God  of  mercy  to  wash  her  child  in  the  blood  of  the  Lamb ;  and  if 
she  were  about  to  be  removed  by  death,  to  enable  her  to  leave  her 
friends  some  comforting  token  of  her  acceptance  with  God.  The 
mother's  agonies  were  great  and  distressing  on  this  subject.  She- 
pleaded  for  this  blessing  to  her  daughter,  in  the  name  and  for  the 
sake  of  the  blessed  Redeemer.  She  pleaded  various  promises  in 
the  word  of  God.  At  length  she  promised  that  if  the  Lord  would 
be  gracious  to  the  soul  of  her  child,  she  would  give  her  up  without 
a  murmur.  Towards  evening  she  was  more  composed,  had  strong- 
er faith  ;  but  her  daughter  was  no  better. 

Caroline  was  sensible  of  her  mother's  distress,  and  said  all  she 
could  to  comfort  her.  The  friends,  as  well  as  the  physicians  who 
were  present,  were  surprised  to  see  her  so  composed  and  submis- 
sive. They  ascribe  this,  in  a  great  degree,  to  her  tenderness  for  her 
mother. 


480  MEMOIRS    OF 

It  was  remarked  by  all  who  visited  her,  that  they  never  saw  a 
countenance  expressive  of  so  much  heavenly  serenity,  and  such 
celestial  beauty,  as  appeared  in  hers  during  this  and  the  succeeding 
part  of  her  sickness.  Her  face  frequently  reminded  some  of  her 
pious  friends  of  what  was  said  of  the  patriarch  Moses,  when  he 
came  down  from  converse  with  his  Maker  on  the  mount,  for  it  in- 
deed appeared  to  shine  with  a  sacred  radiance,  which  suffered  no 
change  throughout  her  whole  confinement. 

One  morning  she  spoke  much  of  death,  and  longed  for  its  ap- 
proach. She  admonished  many  of  her  young  friends,  and  entreat- 
ed them  to  seek  an  interest  in  Christ,  in  preference  to  all  other  attain- 
ments. Believing  her  departure  to  be  very  near,  she  took  a  solemn 
leave  of  many  who  visited  her  on  that  day.  With  a  countenance 
beaming  with  divine  love  and  a  voice  most  harmonious,  she  said  to 
her  mother,  "  O  my  beloved  mother  !  weep  not  for  me.  My  suffer- 
ings will  soon  terminate.  Blessed  be  God !  who  hath  not  turned  away 
my  prayer,  nor  his  mercy  from  me."  Through  the  blood  of  the  cross, 
death  is  disarmed  of  all  his  terrors ;  the  grave,  to  which  I  am  has- 
tening, is  deprived  of  all  victory.  Oh  the  boundless  goodness  of 
God  !  thus  to  support  a  frail  worm  of  the  dust ;  for  what  is  man, 
that  he  should  be  mindful  of  him?  or  the  son  of  man,  that  he  should 
visit  him  ?  I  am  going — yes  I  am  going  to  that  happy  land,  so  finely 
described  by  Dr.  Watts ;"  repeating  the  following  lines  with  great 
emphasis : 

"  1  There  is  a  land  of  pure  delight, 
Where  saints  immortal  reign; 
Infinite  day  excludes  the  night, 
And  pleasures  banish  pain. 

2  There  everlasting  spring  abides, 
And  never  with'ring  flowers  ; 
Death,  like  a  narrow  sea,  divides 
This  heavenly  land  from  ours. 

3  Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood 
Stand  dress'd  in  living  green ; 

So  to  the  Jews  old  Canaan  stood, 
While  Jordan  roll'd  between." 

She  did  not  finish  the  hymn  ;  but  addressed  some  young  friends 
who  had  just  entered  the  room.  "You  see  before  you,"  said  she, 
"  a  young,  timid,  delicate  female,  not  yet  seventeen  years  old — the 
only  child  of  my  beloved  parents — surrounded  with  all  the  comforts 
of  life — nurtured  with  pecular  tenderness,  in  the  bosom  of  parental 
affection  from  my  earliest  infancy,  and  always  sheltered  from  the 
rude  blasts  of  misfortune — blessed  with  the  friendship  of  an  exten- 
sive acquaintance,  and  beloved  by  all  my  dear  relations.  I  could  add 
many  other  considerations  calculated  to  attach  me  to  this  world ;  but 
I  can  say,  with  holy  joy,  farewell  to  all !  yea,  I  desire  to  depart  and 
be  with  Christ,  which  is  far  better.     I  am  going  to  my  Redeemer's 


MISS    CAROLINE    ELIZABETH    SMELT.  481 

kingdom  :  his  arms  are  open  to  receive  me.  O !  the  incalculable 
benefits  resulting  from  the  religion  of  Jesus,  the  once  crucified,  but 
now  gloriously  exalted  son  of  God.  What  but  this,  my  friends, 
could  sustain  me  in  this  trying  hour?  my  sensibility  is  not  blunted. 
My  heart  was  formed  for  sympathy  and  the  sweets  of  friendship.  I 
am  sensible  of  the  sorrow  which  my  departure  will  occasion  in  the 
breasts  of  those  wThom  I  tenderly  love ;  but  I  commit  them  to  the 
care  of  one  who  is  able  to  console  them,  and  who  will,  I  trust,  pre- 
pare them  to  join  me  in  the  regions  of  eternal  glory,  where  we  shall 
part  no  more.  O  !  my  dear  young  friends  allow  me  to  entreat  you 
to  embrace  this  religion.  To  a  bed  of  death  you  will  all  have  to 
come  ;  and  at  the  bar  of  judgment  you  will  have  to  give  an  account 
of  all  the  deeds  done  by  you  in  this  world  ;  and  if  the  Savior  is  not 
then  your  friend,  I  tremble  to  think  of  your  fate.  O  !  close  with 
the  offers  of  mercy.  Now  is  the  accepted  time  ;  to-day  is  the  day 
of  salvation.  When  I  am  gone,  will  you  ever  think  of  me  ?  will 
you  strive  to  remember  the  displays  of  God's  mercy  to  me  ?  and  will 
you  endeavor  to  obtain  his  favor  also  ?  that  you  may  finish  your 
course,  as  I  hope  to  finish  mine,  rejoicing  in  redeeming  love,  com- 
forted and  sustained  against  every  fear  ?  I  feel  peace  in  my  heart, 
and  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory." 

After  being  some  time  silent,  she  said  to  Mrs.  Smelt,  "  My  mother, 
let  me  see  you  put  on  the  Christian's  beautiful  robe — holy  submission. 
You  will  not  be  left  alone  :  for  the  Lord  is  your  friend,  and  he  can  be 
more  to  you  than  ten  sons  and  daughters.  Your  case  is  by  no  means 
a  new  one.  Recollect  the  trials  of  your  name-sake,  the  mother  of 
our  blessed  Redeemer.  She  wTas  called  upon  to  give  up  her  only 
child — she  did  so.  He  died  a  most  cruel  and  ignominious  death. 
He  had  none  of  the  temporal  comforts  which  I  enjoy — no  friends  to 
soothe  his  sorrows — no  bed  on  which  to  rest  his  weary  limbs — no 
kind  attendants,  to  administer  a  cooling  draught  to  quench  a  parching 
thirst — no — He  had  to  drink  vinegar  and  gall.  His  blessed  mother 
was  not  allowed  to  sit  by  him,  as  you  sit  by  me,  and  receive  divine 
comfort  from  his  sacred  lips.  O  my  dear  mother  !  think  of  these 
things  and  believe  yourself  blessed.  Let  your  faith  rise  in  lively 
exercise,  to  the  sufferings  of  the  Son  of  God.  View  him  in  the 
garden  ;  go  with  him  to  Pilate.  See  his  patient  meekness !  like  a 
lamb  dumb  before  his  shearers,  so  he  opened  not  his  mouth.  He 
suffered,  the  just  for  the  unjust,  and  by  his  stripes  I  am  healed.  He 
died  that  we  might  live.  He  bore  our  sins  in  his  own  body.  He 
was  God  over  all  blessed  forever,  and  yet  he  submitted  to  the  death 
of  the  cross,  that  a  perishing  world  might  be  saved.  When  I  take  a 
view  of  his  compassionate  mercy  to  rebellious  sinners,  I  am  lost  in 
wonder.  When  I  see  his  sacred  temples  perforated,  and  encircled 
with  a  crown  of  thorns,  I  am  ready  to  cry  out,  and  did  my  Savior  suf- 
fer thus  ?  for  whom  and  for  what  yvas  he  thus  afflicted  and  scourged  ? 
In  a  moment,  I  answer,  for  me — poor  unworthy  me ;  and  not  only  for 

01 


482  MEMOIRS  OF 

sinful  me,  but  for  you,  my  mother,  and  for  as  many  as  will  believe  in 
bis  all  sufficient  atonement.  When,  with  the  eye  of  faith,  I  see  my 
immaculate  Savior  extended  on  the  cross,  my  heart  dissolves  with 
tenderness  and  gratitude.  I  feel  humble  and  submissive — ready  and 
willing  to  suffer  any  thing ;  yea,  feel  happy  in  being  thought  worthy 
to  suffer ;  for  you  know,  whom  the  Lord  loveth,  he  chasteneth,  &tc 

The  physicians  entered  her  room  ;  after  which,  with  a  sweet  smile 
on  her  countenance,  she  said  to  them,  "  My  kind  friends  and  broth- 
ers, you  have  striven  hard  to  raise  this  frail  tenement ;  but  it  will  all 
be  in  vain.  You  have  done  much  for  me.  I  have  not  been  unmind- 
ful of  the  deep  interest  and  tender  solicitude,  which  you  have  dis- 
covered in  my  case.  I  have  sensibly  felt  for  the  fatigue  and  loss  of 
rest,  to  which  you  have  so  willingly  submitted,  during  my  protracted 
illness ;  but  I  think  it  will  soon  draw  to  a  close.  In  return  for  so 
much  kindness,  allow  me  to  bid  an  affectionate  farewell  to  you  all, 
but  not  before  I  strive  to  impress  a  few  important  truths  on  your 
minds."  Then  raising  her  eyes,  she  said,  "  may  the  God  of  mercy 
write  them  upon  your  hearts !" 

She  then  said  much  to  them  concerning  the  truth  of  the  scriptures—- 
the  necessity  of  being  prepared  for  death,  &c.  and  obtained  a  prom- 
ise from  them  all,  that  they  would  not  forget  what  she  had  said,  and 
would  comply  with  the  request  which  she  had  made.  She  then  bade 
them  farewell,  and  said,  "  I  hope  to  see  you  again ;  yes,  1  hope  to 
see  you  in  my  Redeemer's  kingdom." 

Her  mother  having  retired  for  a  few  minutes,  in  order  to  conceal 
the  emotions  of  her  grief,  which  she  felt  unable  to  control,  now  re- 
turned, and  found  all  in  the  room  in  tears  except  her  daughter. 
With  a  celestial  mildness  in  her  countenance,  she  then  addressed  her 
mother  thus  :  "  Now,  my  mother,  the  conflict  will  soon  be  over.  I 
wish  you  to  put  on  the  whole  Christian,  and  carry  my  most  affec- 
tionate regard  to  my  beloved  father.  Tell  him,  farewell.  Tell  him, 
I  loved  him  in  life,  and  loved  him  in  the  hour  of  death.  Request 
him,  from  me,  to  pray  frequently  and  fervently  for  regenerating  grace. 
Tell  him  that  I  commit  him,  soul  and  body,  to  the  Lord  Jesus.  Let 
it  comfort  him  to  know  that  I  have  unclouded  prospects  of  an  imme- 
diate entrance  into  my  heavenly  Father's  kingdom."  Her  mother 
then  rose,  went  to  Dr.  Smelt,  who  was  sick  in  another  room,  and 
delivered  the  message  of  Caroline  to  her  father;  who,  in  return,  sent 
to  her,  by  Mrs.  Smelt,  a  similar  expression  of  his  warm  affection, 
accompanied  by  a  fervent  prayer  that  her  life  might  be  continued 
many  years.  On  receiving  this  information,  Caroline  said  "lam 
sorry  that  my  dear  parents  do  not  feel  more  resigned  to  the  will  of 
God ;  but  he  will  comfort  them  in  his  own  time,  and  in  his  own  way." 

After  pausing  for  some  minutes,  as  if  to  gather  strength  to  speak,  she 
called  her  mother  to  her  and  said,  "  my  blessed  mother,  I  have  been 
praying  that  your  faith  may  be  strengthened,  and  that  the  Lord  may 
be  your  friend  in  life  and  in  death.     I  now  wish  you  to  take  a  pleas- 


MISS  CAROLINE  ELIZABETH   SMELT.  483 

ant  view  of  your  daughter — bid  her  farewell ;  and  if  you  cannot, 
with  composure,  witness  her  departure,  retire  to  another  room.  The 
conflict  will  soon  be  over,  and  the  Lord  will  not  forsake  you."  Her 
mother's  heart  was  deeply  penetrated  with  that  voice,  which  she 
thought  she  was  now  hearing  for  the  last  time.  She  regarded  her 
daughter  with  affectionate  admiration,  and  lingered  in  suspense,  hesi- 
tating whether  to  remain  or  retire.  Although  she  spoke  not  a  word, 
yet  Caroline  seemed  to  conceive  correctly  what  her  feelings  were, 
and  continued  her  address  in  these  words,  "yes,  my  precious  mother, 
the  Lord  will  enable  you.  Only  cast  yourself  upon  him — look  to 
him  for  strength,  and  plead  with  him  for  faith.  Divine  faith  can 
enable  us  to  perform  every  duty — to  overcome  mountainous  difficul- 
ties. Faith  in  the  Son  of  God  enables  me  to  part  with  you,  my 
mother,  without  feeling  one  pang,  on  my  own  account."  She  then 
made  an  effort  to  extend  her  arms  to  embrace  her  mother ;  who 
folded  her  to  her  bosom  and  said,  "  farewell,  my  beloved  daughter." 
Caroline  then  exclaimed,  "  I  feel  clothed  with  the  whole  armor  of 
God.  Farewell,  my  blessed  mother ;  the  Lord  will  be  your  com- 
forter." 

One  day,  after  being  visited  by  some  pious  persons,  she  observed 
to  her  mother,  that  it  afforded  her  great  pleasure  to  converse  with  the 
children  of  God  ;  "  for  to  them,"  said  she,  "  I  speak  in  a  known 
tongue.  They  know  the  import  of  every  word,  having  been  taught 
in  the  same  school.  O  mother,  I  now  understand  that  passage  in 
the  Holy  Scriptures,  which  tells  us,  the  iirisdom  of  man  is  foolishness 
ivith  God.  It  is  indeed  foolishness — perfect  folly.  All  that  I  ever 
knew  is  but  as  a  drop  in  the  ocean,  in  comparison  with  what  I  now 
feel  and  know.  The  holy  Comforter  is  indeed  a  divine  teacher. 
Oh !  that  all  the  world  would  seek  after  true  wisdom,  for  her  ways 
are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  her  paths  are  peace. 

September  \0th. — She  was  still  better,  her  fever  light,  and  all  her 
symptoms  favorable.  On  this  day  she  conversed  freely  and  frequent- 
ly with  her  mother,  and  referred,  with  great  pleasure,  to  her  acquaint- 
ance with  the  Rev.  Mr.  J.  She  said  "she  had  often  felt  very  solemn 
under  the  preaching  of  the  Rev.  Dr.  Thompson ;  but  these  impres- 
sions would  soon  pass  away;  they  were  like  the  early  cloud  and  the 
morning  dew.  But  under  Mr.  J.'s  preaching,  she  had  been  made 
to  see,  and  to  feel  the  necessity  of  having  an  interest  in  Jesus.  Oh, 
mother !  if  you  live  to  see  that  man  of  God,  tell  him  what  the  Lord 
has  done  for  my  soul.  Tell  him,  he  was  one  of  the  happy  instru- 
ments employed  by  my  heavenly  Father  to  bring  me  to  Christ. 
Tell  him  all ;  it  will  fill  his  heart  with  joy  and  gladness."  Mrs. 
Smelt  then  observed  to  her  daughter,  that  she  hoped  she  would  live 
to  tell  him  herself.  Caroline  replied,  "  my  mother,  you  must  not 
wish  or  hope ;  leave  the  event  to  God,  who  doelh  all  things  well. 
When  I  reflect,"  said  she,  "on  my  deportment  towards  Mr.  J.,  1 
ihink  how  great  must  his  discouragements  have  been.     I  wonder 


484  MEMOIRS  OF 

that  he  did  not  give  me  up ;  but  he  did  not.  How  often  has  he 
said,  come  out  from  the  world,  Miss  Caroline,  O  come  out!  and  on 
one  occasion  he  observed,  if  you  will  come  out  from  the  world,  Ifeel 
as  if  a  host  would  follow.  Nothing  but  his  engagedness  in  his  Mas- 
ter's work  could  have  made  him  so  anxious  for  my  eternal  welfare. 
Oh !  if  I  could  now  see  him,  I  would  speak  to  him  without  reserve. 
I  should  be  delighted  to  receive  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  supper 
from  his  hands ;  and  I  am  resolved,  if  I  am  raised  from  this  bed, 
the  first  place  I  shall  go  to,  will  be  the  church.  I  will  there  present 
myself  in  the  presence  of  the  congregation,  and  make  a  public  pro- 
fession of  my  faith  in  Christ.  Oh  how  I  lament  that  I  have  so  often 
neglected  opportunities  of  doing  this,  when  I  was  in  health  !  Now  I 
should  delight  to  take  my  mother  by  the  hand,  and  in  the  presence 
of  seven  millions  of  people,  take  a  seat  with  her  at  the  table  of  the 
Lord." 

September  11th. — She  appeared  so  much  better,  that  little  doubt 
was  entertained  of  her  recovery.  This  day  she  was  visited  by 
many  friends,  and  was  uncommonly  zealous  and  feeling  in  her  con- 
versation with  them.  A  very  intelligent  female  friend,  who  heard 
her  on  this  occasion,  afterwards  observed  that  she  was  the  most  di- 
vine preacher  she  had  ever  heard— that  her  eloquence  and  fervor 
far  surpassed  any  thing  she  had  ever  witnessed — that  her  voice 
seemed  to  partake  of  the  nature  of  heaven.  Her  prayers  astonished 
every  one.  The  same  friend,  at  another  time,  expressed  her  sur- 
prise at  the  extraordinary  powers  which  she  exhibited.  To  this 
Caroline  replied,  "  my  mental  powers  are  exceedingly  enlarged — 
the  Holy  Spirit  is  my  teacher — of  myself  I  could  do  nothing ;  but  a 
new  tongue  hath  been  given  me,  and  a  new  spirit  put  within  me. 
Give  God  the  praise ;  for  he  hath  said,  out  of  the  mouths  of  babes 
and  sucklings  shall  praise  be  perfected.  Behold  what  he  has  done 
in  my  case  !  I  who  could  not,  a  few  weeks  ago,  raise  my  voice  to 
be  heard  without  embarrassment,  particularly  if  the  religion  of  Jesus 
was  the  subject,  can  now  speak  with  holy  boldness  and  inexpressible 
delight.  My  kind  physicians  try  to  impose  silence ;  but  I  must 
speak.  I  have  perhaps  but  a  short  time  to  labor — my  master's  work 
I  must  do.  His  commands  are  more  important  than  theirs,  and  I 
delight  to  do  his  will.  O!  that  all  the  world  could  feel  as  I  do. 
O!  that  the  Lord  would  make  me  the  happy  instrument  of  turning 
one  soul  to  Christ.  O!  that  my  dear  young  friends  would  come  out 
from  the  world,  as  my  friend  and  brother,  Mr.  J.,  used  to  say 
to  me." 

She  then  addressed  some  young  persons,  who  were  present,  in  a 
most  pathetic  and  eloquent  manner,  expressive  of  her  most  affec- 
tionate attachment  and  earnest  solicitude,  for  their  present  and  future 
felicity.  Of  this  part  of  her  exercises,  it  is  not  believed  that  any 
complete  or  just  representation  can  be  given  here  ;  therefore  it  will 
aot  be  attempted. 


MISS    CAROLINE    ELIZABETH    SMELT.  4S5 

On  the  subject  of  worldly  amusement,  she  was  uncommonly  ear- 
nest and  forcible.  In  speaking  on  this  subject  to  some  friends,  she 
said  "  let  no  person,  endowed  with  rational  powers,  call  them  inno- 
cent or  harmless.  How  can  that  be  innocent,  which  leads  to  a  pro- 
digal waste  of  precious  time  ?  How  can  that  thing  be  called  harm- 
less, which  leads  to  an  unnecessary  exposure  of  health  ?  How  can 
that  amusement  be  innocent,  which  has  not  the  glory  of  God  for  its 
object  ?  How  can  that  amusement  be  harmless,  which  has  a  direct 
tendency  to  unfit  the  mind  for  devotional  exercises  ?  We  are  such 
frail  creatures  that  we  constantly  require  some  excitement  to  lead  us 
to  God,  and  not  to  estrange  us  from  him.  Will  any  venture  to  say, 
that  they  have  been  brought  to  love  the  Lord  Jesus  better,  by  hav- 
ing attended  a  theatre  or  a  ball-room  ?  I  presume  not.  I  can  say 
from  my  own  experience,  that  1  never  derived  solid  improvement  or 
real  pleasure  from  either.  From  neither  of  them,  have  I  ever  de- 
rived any  thing,  which  could  afford  my  mind  the  least  satisfaction  in 
hours  devoted  to  self-examination,  nor  any  thing  to  strengthen  the 
soul  against  the  terrors  of  death  and  judgment.  I  consider  them 
worse  than  vanity — they  are  exceedingly  sinful." 

She  spoke  much  of  her  absent  relatives  and  friends,  and  desired 
that  particular  messages  might  be  delivered  to  them.  She  observed 
that  it  would  afford  her  inexpressible  satisfaction  to  see  them  once 
more — to  tell  them  all  that  the  Lord  had  done  for  her  soul,  and  to 
encourage  them  to  rest  their  hopes  on  him.  "  But,"  said  she,  "  if 
it  be  decreed  that  we  shall  not  meet  again  in  this  life,  tell  them,  it 
will  be  their  own  fault  if  we  do  not  meet  in  another  and  a  better 
world — tell  them,  there  is  room  enough  for  all,  in  my  Redeemer's 
kingdom — and  he  will  give  them  a  gracious  reception,  if  they  will 
only  take  up  the  cross  and  follow  him."  Then  addressing  herself 
particularly  to  her  mother,  she  said,  "  O  my  mother !  it  would  give 
rne  such  happiness  to  see  my  pious  friend,  Mr.  J.  I  feel  as  if  he 
was  my  spiritual  father,  my  dear  brother  in  the  Lord.  Could  he 
see  me  now,  I  trust  he  would  not  be  ashamed  to  own  me  as  his  child, 
his  sister ;  no,  he  would  gladly  own  the  relationship."  It  was  re- 
marked by  the  many  friends  who  saw  her,  that  they  never  witnessed 
stronger  filial  affection  in  their  lives.  She  was  ever  on  the  watch 
to  pour  the  balm  of  consolation  into  the  heart  of  her  sorrowing 
mother ;  and  omitted  nothing  that  she  thought  calculated  to  relieve 
her  feelings. 

September  12th. — On  this  day  she  felt  so  much  better,  though  she 
still  had  some  fever,  which  never  went  entirely  off,  that  several  friends 
did  not  hesitate  to  tell  her,  that  she  was  getting  well  very  fast.  Her 
mother,  standing  by  her  bedside,  said,  "yes,  the  beloved  of  my  heart 
is  indeed  recovering;  and  I  do  hope  the  Lord  has  heard  my  prayers, 
and  will  prolong  her  precious  life  many  years."  Caroline  looked 
concerned.  Someone  observed,  "  I  have  no  doubt  of  it;  I  think 
she  will  be  able  to  ride  out  in  a  few  dayb."     She  immediately  gave 


486  MEMOIRS   OF 

the  friend  a  gentle  rebuke.  Mrs.  Smelt  then  turned  from  the  bed. 
In  an  instant  Caroline  called  her  back,  and  said,  "  my  blessed 
mother,  I  did  not  intend  that  for  you.  I  know  your  maternal  ten- 
derness induces  you  to  hope,  and  I  conceive  those  hopes  are  per- 
fectly natural  when  kept  under  proper  restrictions.  I  should  be  very 
sorry  if  you  should  think  me  capable  of  departing  from  my  duty  as 
a  child,  so  far  as  to  rebuke  you,  my  mother.  No ;  I  have  too  high 
a  sense  of  that  sacred  command,  which  says,  '  honor  thy  father  and 
mother  J  he.  and  too  much  love  and  gratitude  to  you,  ever  to  speak 
unbecomingly.  I  thought  our  friend  (pointing  to  the  person)  spoke 
rather  presumptuously,  and  needed  a  rebuke.  But  I  did  not  intend 
the  least  offence  to  him,  only  to  remind  him  that  the  secret  designs 
of  God  were  known  only  to  himself,  and  that  the  event  of  my  case 
was  known  only  to  my  heavenly  Father." 

The  visiting  friends  having  all  retired,  Caroline  and  her  mother 
were  left  alone  for  an  hour  or  two.  The  daughter  then  communi- 
cated many  of  the  exercises  of  her  mind,  since  she  had  been  con- 
fined to  that  bed.  "  Mother,"  said  she,  "  let  no  one  call  it  a  bed  of 
affliction;  it  has  been  to  me  a  heavenly  bed.  I  wish  I  could  des- 
cribe the  visitation  I  had  on  the  second  r  night  of  this  month,  and 
which  I  still  feel  with  a  grateful  recollection.  How  mercifully  did 
the  Lord  deal  with  me  !  I  was  oppressed  with  a  heavy  burden  :  I 
felt  guilty,  self-condemned,  and  bowed  down ;  the  passage  of  scrip- 
ture which  I  mentioned  constantly  ringing  in  my  ears.  I  felt  ill, 
extremely  ill.  I  was  not  afraid  of  death  in  itself,  but  I  feared  the 
displeasure  of  God.  I  derived  no  comfort  from  the  reflection  that  I 
had  not  been  guilty  of  great  crimes  5  no  comfort  from  the  recollec- 
tion that  I  had  never,  in  conversation,  or  in  any  other  way,  used  my 
Maker's  name  irreverently.  I  have  always  held  it  sacred  ;  for  even 
in  prayer  or  reading,  I  felt  solemn  whenever  I  repeated  it.  I  knew 
my  situation  in  life  and  a  pious  education  had  kept  me  from  being 
exposed  to  gross  temptations ;  but  I  felt  that  I  had  lived  in  the  neg- 
lect of  many  known  duties,  and  in  the  abuse  of  many  distinguished 
blessings ;  that  I  had  stifled  many  strong  convictions,  and  grieved 
the  Holy  Spirit  of  God,  who  had  been  striving  with  me  in  various 
ways,  ever  since  I  was  seven  years  old.  I  tried  to  draw  comfort 
from  the  recollection,  that  I  had  for  some  months  past  resolved  to 
take  a  decided  stand  to  serve  the  Lord ;  but  how  did  I  know  that 
he  would  accept  my  imperfect  services  after  such  rebellion  against 
him?  I  remembered  the  anxiety  which  I  felt  to  return  to  this  house. 
The  Lord  had  gratified  me  sooner  than  I  expected.  I  had  resolved, 
as  soon  as  we  got  settled,  to  commence  a  new  system  of  devotion, 
and  was  impatient  to  begin.  The  first  night  on  which  I  returned  to 
the  occupancy  of  my  chamber  deserves  to  be  remembered.  An 
soon  as  I  found  myself  alone,  I  prostrated  myself  on  the  carpet,  and 
poured  out  my  soul  in  prayer  to  my  heavenly  Father.  I  resolved, 
by  his  assistance,  to  make  it  an  important  period  in  my  life ;  and 


MISS    CAROLINE    ELIZABETH    SMELT.  487 

from  that  moment  to  give  up  all  worldly  amusements.  I  made  a 
solemn  promise  never  to  dance  another  step ;  never  to  enter  a  thea- 
ter again,  nor  to  resort  to  places  of  festivity  and  mirth.  I  considered 
them  as  all  belonging  to  the  same  family,  and  injurious  to  a  growth 
in  grace.  I  then  pleaded,  with  tears  and  great  fervency,  that  my 
God  and  Savior  would  condescend  to  consecrate  my  chamber ;  that 
he  would  make  it  a  little  Bethel,  where  he  would  often  meet  me. 
I  then  felt  so  comforted  and  strengthened  in  my  good  resolutions, 
that  1  had  no  doubt  of  my  prayer  being  answered.  But  on  the  sec- 
ond day  of  this  month,  I  received  no  consolation  from  a  review  of 
those  circumstances ;  no,  not  a  ray  of  light  from  any  quarter. 
Worlds  would  I  have  given  for  an  interest  in  the  redemption  pur- 
chased by  the  blessed  Redeemer.  Without  this,  I  felt  I  was  forever 
lost.  1  strove  to  be  fervent  in  prayer ;  but  many  friends  called,  and 
I  was  much  interrupted.  I  was  enabled  all  the  forepart  of  the  day 
to  appear  composed,  for  I  felt  very  unwilling,  my  dear  mother,  to  in- 
crease your  sorrows  by  telling  you  I  was  unhappy;  but  in  the  eve- 
ning I  could  not  restrain  my  feelings ;  I  was  compelled  to  let  you 
know  all.  You  then  prayed  for  me,  and  repeated  many  precious 
promises.  I  felt  a  sudden  heat  pass  over  me ;  it  surpassed  any 
thing  which  I  ever  felt  before.  My  whole  system  seemed  as  if  in  a 
furnace.  I  was  alarmed.  I  desired  you  to  engage  with  me  in  silent 
prayer.  O!  then  my  wrestlings  commenced,  and  for  one  hour,  one 
short  hour,  they  continued,  at  the  end  of  which  period,  I  was  most 
wonderfully  blessed.  What  I  felt  at  that  moment  can  never  be  de- 
scribed. The  Spirit  of  God  was  in  my  soul,  nor  can  I  express  the 
half  of  what  he  then  revealed  to  me.  Indeed,  I  dare  not  attempt 
to  describe  the  manifestation  which  I  then  received.  I  felt  the  power 
of  the  Holy  Ghost ;  I  felt  that  my  soul  was  ransomed  by  the  blood 
of  the  cross ;  every  sin  washed  away,  and  my  name  recorded  in  the 
Lamb's  book  of  life.  Love  to  God,  and  love  to  his  people  filled  my 
heart.  I  knew  of  a  truth  that  Jesus  was  mine,  and  I  was  his  ;  and 
from  that  moment  to  this,  my  faith,  my  views  have  been  the  very 
same,  though  my  ecstacies  have  not  always  been  equally  great. 
One  small  cloud  or  temptation,  and  one  only,  has  Satan  been  per- 
mitted to  cast  in  my  way,  and  that  only  for  a  few  minutes.  The 
Hearer  of  prayer  soon  removed  it.  I  believe  it  was  permitted,  to 
show  me  my  weakness,  and  to  try  my  faith ;  but  the  Lord  soon  said 
to  my  soul,  \fear  not,  for  1  am  with  thee?  O  my  mother  !  do  you 
wonder  that  I  should  be  patient  and  happy,  when  I  have  such  divine 
support,  such  holy  comforts  ?" 

She  then  desired  that  her  position  in  the  bed  might  be  changed. 
This  was  done  ;  by  which  means  she  had  a  commanding  view  of  the 
garden,  from  a  window  near  her  bed.  It  was  then  near  sunset,  and 
a  most  beautiful  evening.  As  soon  as  she  saw  her  flowering  shrubs, 
(several  of  which  were  loaded  with  rich  flowers,)  she  broke  forth  in 
the  most  exalted  strains  of  admiration,  and  adoring  ejaculations,  to 


488  MEMOIRS    OF 

the  great  Architect  of  the  universe.  She  commented  sweetly  on  the 
particular  time  of  the  evening.  It  was  admirably  adapted  to  sacred 
contemplation — then  on  the  serenity  of  the  azure  vault  of  heaven — - 
then  on  a  floating  white  cloud ;  and  remarked  the  harmony  which 
subsisted,  and  was  apparent,  in  all  the  works  of  God.  She  then  ask- 
ed, "  why  do  frail  mortals  seek  pleasure  in  noisy,  tumultuous  amuse- 
ments, when  such  an  ample  volume  lies  open  to  their  view  ?"  She 
then  took  leave  of  a  favorite  shrub,  saying,  "  farewell,  my  innocent 
friend ;  your  fragrant  blossoms  have  often  regaled  my  senses,  while 
my  thoughts  have  ascended  to  him  that  made  both  you  and  me.  I 
have  often  plucked  your  flowers,  and  ran  with  delight  to  present  them 
to  my  mother ;  but  other  hands  will  now  gather  your  blossoms  :  fare- 
well, my  tree,  I  long  to  be  in  the  garden  above. 

"  The  finest  flower  that  ever  blovv'd 
Open'd  on  Calvary's  tree, 
When  Jesus'  blood  in  rivers  flow'd, 
For  love  of  worthless  me. 

Its  deepest  hue,  its  sweetest  smell 

No  mortal  can  declare, 
Nor  can  the  tongue  of  angels  tell 

How  bright  the  colors  are. 

But  soon,  on  yonder  banks  above, 

Shall  every  blossom  here 
Appear  a  full-blown  flower  of  love, 

Like  him,  transplanted  there." 

Her  countenance  beamed  with  radiance  when  she  said,  "  fare- 
well, garden,  delightful  spot  for  innocent  amusement !  My  infant 
feet  have  often  trod  your  walks" — and  smiling  when  she  repeated, 
"  they  will  never  walk  them  again."  She  then  listened,  with  appar- 
ent rapture,  to  the  notes  of  a  little  bird,  that  was  perched  on  a  tree 
near  her  window,  until  her  soul  seemed  transported  almost  to  heaven. 
She  soon  afterwards  desired  her  mother  to  bring  the  Bible  to  her, 
and  read  the  121st  psalm,  the  whole  of  which  she  was  enabled  to  ap- 
ply to  herself.  Mrs.  Smelt  then  read  to  her  some  passages  in  Isaiah. 
Caroline  exclaimed,  "it  is  the  word  of  God :  I  feel  it  in  my  very  soul. 
Isaiah  is  a  divine  prophet ;  he  is  my  prophet." 

A  friend  entered  soon  afterwards,  to  whom  Caroline  said,  "  my 
dear  aunt,  I  have  taken  leave  of  the  garden  this  evening,  and  have 
felt  so  happy,  so  entirely  filled  with  divine  love,  that  my  room  has 
appeared  like  a  little  Bethel,  or  the  gate  of  heaven."  She  then  de- 
sired her  mother  to  read  to  her  aunt  the  same  psalm  over  again,  say- 
ing, "  every  word  of  that  psalm  is  applicable  to  me,  for  the  Lord 
has  preserved,  and  will  keep  me  to  the  end,  even  for  ever  and  ev- 
er." She  then  repeated  to  her  friend  many  of  the  sentiments  which 
she  had  just  before  uttered  to  her  mother,  on  the  subject  of  the  gar- 
den, he.  After  which,  she  said,  she  had  never  before  seen  nature 
dressed  in  so  beautiful  a  robe- — that  a  peculiar  brightness  or  lustre 


MISS    CAROLINE    ELIZABETH    SMELT.  489 

appeared  to  rest  upon  every  flower,  and  upon  every  leaf — that  the 
whole  sky,  and  even  the  little  cloud  seemed  to  bear  a  strong  im- 
press of  her  Maker's  glory,  and  concluded  with  the  following  beau- 
tiful lines : 

"  The  spacious  firmament  on  high, 
"  With  all  the  blue  ethereal  sky, 
"  And  spangled  heavens,  a  shining  frame, 
"  Their  great  original  proclaim." 

At  this  time,  all  her  friends  thought  her  much  better,  except  her 
mother,  whom  the  faculty  considered  unreasonable  for  indulging  a 
doubt  of  her  recovery.  But  she  thought  her  daughter  too  ripe  for 
glory  to  be  long  continued  here ;  and  she  wished  to  be  submissively 
prepared  for  that  dispensation  of  Divine  Providence,  which  she 
thought  would  shortly  remove  "  the  joy  of  her  heart,  and  desire  of 
her  eyes."  That  night  Caroline  enjoyed  considerable  quietude,  but 
very  little  sleep. 

September  15th. — On  the  morning  of  this  day  she  appeared,  for 
some  hours,  much  as  she  had  been  the  day  before.  A  friend  hear- 
ing she  was  getting  well,  sent  her  twelve  varieties  of  choice  flowers. 
She  appeared  unusually  delighted,  as  soon  as  she  saw  them.  She 
requested  her  mother  to  spread  them  out  before  her  on  the  bed,  and 
then  to  present  them,  one  by  one,  to  her  view,  which  was  done  ac- 
cordingly. There  was  one  which  was  conspicuous  for  its  size  and 
color,  which  she  requested  to  be  handed  to  her  first.  On  taking  it 
in  her  hand,  she  called  all  her  friends  then  present,  to  view  its  beau- 
ties. Her  admiration  of  that  flower  excited  the  wonder  of  her 
friends ;  for  it  did  not  strike  them,  at  the  moment,  as  being  equal  to 
the  others  in  beauty,  nor  was  it  thought  to  accord  with  her  general 
taste,  as  the  flower  in  question  was  of  a  crimson  hue.  Her  mother 
remarking  this  to  her,  she  replied,  "  O  mother !  then  you  do  not  see 
what  I  see,  for  it  reflects  beauty  on  all  the  rest.  The  rich  crimson 
color  reminds  me  of  the  precious  blood  of  Christ — its  size,  transpa- 
rency, and  fulness,  remind  me  of  the  love,  purity,  and  all-sufficiency 
of  my  blessed  Redeemer.  Examine  its  petals ;  view  the  vast  num- 
ber of  veins  in  each !  how  expressive  of  the  channels  of  divine  grace  I 
What  entire  perfection  is  impressed  on  every  leaf!"  Her  mother, 
fearing  she  would  exhaust  herself,  proposed  to  take  the  whole  of  the 
flowers  and  put  them  in  water.  Caroline  sweetly  asked  permission 
to  examine  the  others  also,  which  was  granted.  She  then  commented 
with  great  eloquence  on  each  one,  and  concluded  by  repeating,  "Sol- 
omon, in  all  his  glory,  was  not  arrayed  like  one  of  these."  These 
flowers  were  then  gathered  up  to  be  removed,  but  she  desired  they 
might  be  put  in  a  flower  pot,  and  placed  where  she  could  view  them. 
After  the  removal  of  the  flowers,  it  was  observed  that  she  had  re- 
tained the  bud  of  a  small  white  cluster-rose,  which  she  held  in  her 
fingers.  After  a  silence,  which  lasted  for  some  Considerable  timeT 
Caroline  at  length  said,  "  mother,  look  at  this,"  holding  the  rose  bud, 

62 


490  MEMOIRS    OF 

She  paused  as  if  she  wished  her  mother  to  say  something.  Mrs, 
Smelt  replied,  "  my  daughter,  I  suppose  you  discover  some  similari- 
ty between  that  bud  and  yourself."  Caroline  smiled.  Mrs.  Smelt 
observed,  that  the  rose  bud  was  an  emblem  of  youth  and  innocence, 
Caroline  again  smiled,  and  said,  "no,  my  mother,  your  thoughts  and 
mine  have  not  been  the  same  this  time,  though  we  very  generally 
think  alike.  But  this  little  bud  is  emblematical  of  the  grace  that  is 
now  in  my  soul"— she  then  exclaimed,  "  to  bloom,  to  expand  in 
the  garden  of  heaven !"  In  a  short  time  afterwards,  her  mother 
discovered  that  Caroline  was  not  so  well  as  she  had  been,  in  which 
opinion,  their  friends  did  not  agree  with  her.  In  the  evening  the 
fever  increased,  and  her  rest  that  night  was  not  so  good  as  for  some 
nights  immediately  before. 

Towards  the  evening  of  the  next  day  she  had  more  fever,  and  little 
or  no  sleep  that  night.  She  evidently  endured  considerable  pain  ; 
but  no  complaint  escaped  from  her  lips. 

September  11th. — About  nine  o'clock  of  this  day,  a  most  violent 
chill  came  on,  which  was  succeeded  by  a  higher  fever  than  she  ever 
had  before.  Her  sufferings  were  great,  but  not  a  murmur  was  she 
heard  to  utter. 

September  \9th. — This  morning  she  appeared  rather  better  until 
the  chill  returned.  When  she  felt  the  first  symptoms  of  it,  she  ob- 
served to  her  mother  that  she  was  well  pleased.  Mrs.  Smelt  was 
much  alarmed,  because  she  apprehended  that  her  daughter  had  not 
strength  sufficient  to  enable  her  to  live  through  it,  but  Caroline  en- 
deavored to  comfort  her. 

Within  a  short  time  afterwards  symptoms  accompanying  the  fever, 
pointed  to  the  necessity  of  blistering  her  head.  When  her  hair  was 
removed  she  expressed  great  satisfaction.  She  observed  that  many 
persons  might  suppose  she  would  feel  some  mortification  at  the  loss 
of  her  hair,  but  that  she  felt  none.  "  I  wish,"  said  she,  "  my  dear 
father  may  feel  as  composed  as  I  do."  She  then  desired  a  friend 
to  hold  it  up  to  her  view.  She  said,  as  she  looked  on  it,  "  I  did  not 
think  there  was  such  a  quantity."  (It  was  more  than  a  yard  long, 
of  a  dark,  glossy,  brown  color,  and  very  thick.)  "  Well,  it  will 
never  again  fatigue  my  poor  arms  to  comb,  curl,  and  dispose  of  it 
fancifully.  Had  I  kept  it,  I  should  never,  I  hope,  have  spent  so 
much  precious  time  in  that  way  again  ;  but  it  is  all  over  now.  Put 
it  away  ;  my  parents  will  wish  to  see  it."  She  soon  afterwards  fell 
asleep,  and  did  not  awake  till  near  bed  time.  She  then  expressed 
her  regret  that  she  had  slept  so  long,  but  was  too  feeble  to  speak 
much.  She  appeared  very  composed  through  the  remaining  part  of 
the  night. 

September  20th. — This  morning  she  appeared  to  revive  a  little. 
She  desired  her  mother  to  read  a  portion  of  God's  word  to  her. 
After  reading  sundry  passages,  her  mother  said  to  her  "  my  beloved 
Caroline,  you  are  very  ill ;  how  are  your  feelings  to-day  ?  is  your 


MISS    CAROLINE    ELIZABETH    SMELT.  491 

faith  as  strong  in  the  Lord  Jesus  as  ever  ?  are  you  as  willing  to  depart, 
and  are  your  views  of  divine  mercy  as  great,  as  clear  as  they  have 
been?  She  replied,  with  a  countenance  beaming  with  divine  love, 
"just  the  same,  just  the  same.  My  heavenly  Father  has  never  left 
me  ;  and  whether  1  live  or  die,  it  will  be  to  the  glory  of  God."  She 
said  much  more,  which  cannot  be  accurately  recollected ;  but  every 
sentiment  which  she  expressed  breathed  the  strongest  confidence, 
and  sweetest  resignation  to  the  will  of  God. 

It  was  soon  discovered  that  her  speech  began  to  fail.  Her  mother 
took  leave  of  her  with  forced  composure.  She  shortly  afterwards 
fell  asleep,  and  never  spoke  again.  She  continued  in  this  state  for 
several  hours  ;  after  which,  on  Sabbath  evening,  the  21st  September, 
her  happy  spirit  was  released  from  "  the  earthly  house  of  its  taberna- 
cle," and  took  its  flight  to  the  arms  of  Jesus.  Not  a  single  struggle 
— not  the  smallest  distortion  of  features,  nor  even  the  movement  of 
a  single  limb,  appeared  in  her  last  moments.  She  was  gone  some 
seconds,  before  the  many  kind  friends  who  surrounded  her  dying 
couch  had  ascertained  that  her  spirit  had  indeed  departed. 

It  is  deemed  worthy  of  remark,  that  she  told  many  of  her  friends, 
before  her  departure,  that  she  had  prayed  that  her  end  might  be  just 
as  in  the  event  it  proved  to  be.  She  observed  to  them,  that  she 
"  knew  her  dear  parents  would  feel  much  distressed  to  see  her  die 
in  hard  struggles;  or  even  to  know  that  this  was  the  case,  if  they 
did  not  witness  it ;  and  she  knew  that  her  heaveniy  Father  would 
grant  her  petition,  and  temper  the  Providence,  as  much  as  was  right, 
to  their  feelings."  This  was  realized  in  a  most  remarkable  degree. 
Her  father,  during  the  remission  of  his  fever  was  enabled  to  visit  her 
chamber,  in  company  with  her  mother,  during  the  lime  of  her  sleep, 
which  immediately  preceded  her  decease.  They  saw  it  was  the 
sleep  of  death ;  for  to  their  repeated  calls  she  made  no  answer. 
Once,  and  only  once,  when  standing  by  her  bed-side,  they  united 
their  voices  in  calling  "  Caroline,  Oh  Caroline  !  our  beloved  daugh- 
ter, shall  we  never  more  hear  the  sound  of  your  harmonious  voice  ? 
it  is  your  father  and  mother  that  thus  call  you ;"  she  made  an  effort 
to  open  her  eyes,  and  to  move  her  lips  to  speak,  but  could  not.  How- 
ever, she  was  enabled  to  smile.  She  lay  like  one  reposing  in  health, 
perfectly  calm.  They  impressed  a  kiss  of  affection  on  her  lips,  re- 
peating, "  It  is  yonr  father — it  is  your  mother."  She  made  no  signal  of 
sensibility,  except  another  smile.  Mrs.  Smelt  repeated  her  visits 
again  and  again  to  her  before  she  departed.  She  viewed  her  dying 
daughter  with  a  solemn  pleasure,  and  found  herself  frequently  breath- 
ing "  O  may  my  last  end  be  like  hers  !"  The  fervent  prayers  of 
two  friends,  who  called  in  a  little  before  she  fell  asleep  in  Jesus,  con- 
tributed much  to  her  comfort.  She  felt  indeed  that  the  cup  which 
she  had  to  drink  was  bitter  ;  but  she  was  enabled  to  say  with  submis- 
sion, "  not  my  will  but  thine,  O  God,  be  done." 


492  MEMOIRS,  &C. 

On  the  following  day  her  earthly  remains  were  attended  to  the 
place  of  interment  by  as  large  a  number  of  her  afflicted  and  sympa- 
thizing friends  as  the  distressing  situation  of  their  families  at  that  time 
would  admit.  At  the  grave  the  thirty  first  hymn  of  Dr.  Watts's  2d 
book,  which  she  had  often  repeated  during  her  illness,  was  sung, 
after  which  the  mourning  friends  retired  to  reflect  on  the  solemnities 
of  that  scene,  which  had  engaged  their  attention  for  such  a  length 
of  time. 

Thus  lived,  and  thus  died  Caroline  Elizabeth  Smelt.  By  the  ex- 
ercise of  the  numerous  amiable  qualities  which  she  possessed,  she 
had  endeared  herself  to  an  extensive  circle  of  friends  of  all  ages, 
sexes,  and  ranks  in  life.  It  is  asserted  that  she  was  never  seen  to 
be  in  a  passion,  although  her  disposition  has  been  visibly  tried.  She 
was  affectionate,  meek,  dutiful,  and  modest.  She  has  been  seen  to 
be  displeased,  and  to  suffer  momentary  mortification ;  but  never  al- 
lowed herself  to  utter  an  indelicate,  harsh,  or  hasty  expression. 
She  possessed  great  independence  of  principle,  and  would  support 
her  opinions  with  great  firmness  and  propriety ;  but,  if  convinced  of 
error,  would  never  hesitate  to  retract  and  acknowledge  it.  To  ser- 
vants she  was  particularly  mild ;  and  as  she  made  her  request  to 
those  of  her  father's  household  with  the  utmost  softness,  they  always 
served  her  with  the  greatest  alacrity.  When  they  did  so,  she  would 
often  thank  them  as  politely  as  if  she  had  had  no  claim  to  their  obedi- 
ene.  When  they  disobliged  her,  she  was  always  ready  to  frame  and  of- 
fer an  apology  for  them.  She  would  say,  "  prehaps  it  proceeds  from 
forgetfulness. — I  know  I  am  too  thoughtless  myself,  and  omit  many 
important  duties ;  and  why  should  I  condemn,  in  those  poor,  ignorant 
beings,  faults  that  are  less  than  my  own." 

In  a  word,  reverence  towards  God,  and  filial  submission  and  re- 
spect towards  her  parents — affability  and  benevolence  towards  all 
with  whom  she  was  acquainted,  seem  to  have  been  united  in  her 
temper  and  practice  through  life,  and  "in  her  death  they  were  not 
divided,11 

From  the  Memoirs  of  Miss  Smelt,  by  the  Rev.  Moses  Waddel,  D.  D, 


493 


MRS.   SUSAN  POOR, 


Of  the  birth  and  education  of  Mrs.  Poor,  we  have  been  unable 
to  procure  any  account.  In  the  year  1816,  she  proceeded  with  her 
husband,  the  Rev.  Daniel  Poor,  an  ordained  missionary  of  the 
American  Board,  to  Tillipally  in  the  island  of  Ceylon,  which  con- 
tinued her  residence,  and  the  scene  of  her  missionary  labors  till  her 
death,  in  1821.  The  following  affecting  and  instructive  account  of 
her  death  is  from  a  communication  of  her  husband  to  the  secretary 
of  the  American  Board. 

Mrs.  Poor's  last  illness  commenced  on  Monday  evening,  the  23d 
of  April.  On  Tuesday  evening,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Spaulding  came  to 
our  assistance  and  continued  with  us.  As  Mrs.  Poor  continued  ill, 
and  medical  advice  appeared  necessary,  we  sent,  on  Wednesday 
morning,  for  Dr.  Scudder.  On  his  arrival,  he  found  that  her  symp- 
toms were  in  some  degree  alarming.  Powerful  remedies  were  used 
for  several  days  without  any  favorable  issue.  During  this  time  she 
was  affected  with  severe  pain.  Her  mind,  as  appeared  from  the 
frequent  recital  of  passages  of  Scripture,  and  of  parts  of  hymns 
adapted  to  her  suffering  state,  was  turned  to  God  and  divine  subjects. 

On  Thursday,  A.  M.  in  consequence  of  some  unusual  sensations 
of  body,  and  more  especially  of  some  peculiar  exercises  of  her  mind 
that  morning,  she  apprehended  that  the  time  of  her  departure  was 
at  hand.  Under  this  impression,  she  began  to  address  me.  Having 
freely  spoken  of  the  strong  consolations  God  had  given  her,  she 
stated  to  me  the  views  and  feelings  she  had  recently  had,  concern- 
ing the  family  and  station. 

"  I  have  been  enabled,"  said  she,  "  this  morning,  to  make  a  for- 
mal and  entire  surrender  of  husband  and  children,  and  of  all  the 
affairs  of  the  station  into  the  hands  of  God.  The  strong  desires, 
which  I  have  heretofore  had,  for  continuing  a  few  years  longer,  have 
been  so  entirely  taken  away,  that  even  my  beloved  husband  and 
children  cease  to  be  ties  that  bind  me  to  the  earth.  Every  cord  is 
now  broken.  This  is  a  victory  that  I  scarcely  dared  to  hope  for, 
and  it  is  to  my  mind,  a  sure  indication  that  I  shall  not  long  be  con- 
tinued with  you." 

She  then  spoke  of  our  past  intercourse  with  each  other, — and  of 
God's  gracious  dealings  with  us  since  we  were  united,  especially  in 
the  work  of  the  mission ;  and  expressed  a  confident  belief,  that  God 
would  be  with  me,  and  comfort  me,  in  my  solitary  state,  and  bless 
ny  labors  among  the  heathen.  She  appeared  to  take  firm  hold  oi 
promises,  respecting  the  children  of  believers.     She  expressed 


494  MEMOIRS    OF 

strong  confidence  in  the  belief,  that,  though  her  children  were  left 
motherless  in  a  land  of  idolaters,  God  would  be  their  Protector,  and 
would  raise  up  such  friends  as  were  necessary  to  watch  over  them. 
She  urged  the  propriety  of  this  belief,  from  the  views  she  entertain- 
ed of  that  covenent,  which  is  well  ordered  in  all  things  and  sure,  and 
which  she  thought  had  been  established  with  our  house. 

She  expressed  her  thoughts  concerning  God's  designs  of  mercy 
towards  the  heathen.  The  substance  of  her  remarks  on  this  subject 
was,  that  in  view  of  what  he  had  already  done,  and  of  the  present 
indications  of  his  Providence,  she  believed  he  would  soon  come 
down  by  his  Spirit,  like  rain  upon  the  mown  grass,  and  gather  a  peo-  , 
pie  to  the  praise  of  the  glory  of  his  grace. 

The  earnest  and  confident  manner  in  which  she  spoke  on  the  two 
last  mentioned  subjects,  was  new  and  unexpected.  Formerly,  the 
idea  of  leaving  her  children,  in  this  land  of  moral  darkness,  was  ex- 
tremely painful  to  her.  Although  she  had  been  abundant  in  her 
labors  and  fervent  in  her  prayers  to  promote  the  salvation  of  the  hea- 
then, she  was  ever  fearful  and  doubtful,  as  to  what  God  would  do 
for  those  of  the  present  generation;  but  now  her  language  was  that 
of  triumphant  hope,  and  joyful  anticipation. 

As  we  assured  her,  that  she  had  no  reason  to  apprehend  an  im- 
mediate departure,  she  did  not  proceed  to  particulars ;  but  observed, 
that  what  she  had  to  say  or  do  must  be  done  before  the  hour  of  death 
came,  as  she  could  not  expect  then  to  be  able  to  say  any  thing.  It 
was  rather  unpleasant  to  her  to  know,  that  she  only  was  of  the  opinion 
that  the  hour  of  death  was  near. 

She  continued  in  a  quiet  state  of  mind,  speaking  often  of  the  great 
goodness  of  God,  in  entirely  weaning  her  affections  from  her  family, 
and  in  giving  her  strong  desires  to  depart  and  be  with  Christ. 

"  For  some  weeks  past,"  said  she,  "  I  have  dwelt  with  much  in- 
terest upon  the  word  Immanuel,  as  applied  to  Christ.  But  within 
a  few  days  my  thoughts  have  turned  to  him  with  peculiar  delight,  as 
bearing  the  name  Jesus."  She  many  times  quoted  the  passage, 
And  his  name  shall  be  called  Jesus,  for  he  shall  save  his  people  from 
their  sins. 

On  reviewing  her  conduct  for  several  months  previous  to  her  late 
illness,  I  can  now  discover  many  reasons  for  believing  that  the  Lord 
was,  in  a  special  manner,  preparing  her  by  his  grace  for  this  season 
of  trial.  One  of  the  many  circumstances  to  which  I  here  refer, 
was,  that  several  weeks  before  her  death,  she  proposed  that  we 
should  regard  every  Friday,  as  a  season  of  special  prayer. 

As  I  stood  by  her  bed  side  with  a  Bible  in  my  hand,  while  she  lay 
in  a  suffering  state,  she  took  the  Bible,  and  directed  me  to  the  118th 
Psalm,  14th  verse  and  onward,  as  expressing  her  feelings.  Many 
times,  in  the  course  of  the  day,  she  required  those  present  to  unite 
in  prayer  and  thanksgiving  to  God  on  her  account.  In  the  afternoon 
we  were  happy  to  welcome  Mr.  Richards  and  Mrs.  Scudder. 


MRS.     SUSAN    POOR.  495 

Friday,  P.  M.  we  continued  the  active  use  of  powerful  medicines 
with  much  hope  of  her  recovery.  Her  corporeal  sufferings  were 
great,  arising  from  spasms  of  the  stomach.  Her  mind  was  tranquil, 
and  she  had  a  strong  desire  to  hear  appropriate  portions  of  Scrip- 
ture. Most  of  the  twenty-ninth  chapter  of  Doddridge's  Rise  and 
Progress  was  read  to  her.  It  afforded  her  much  pleasure,  as  it  ac- 
corded with  her  own  experience.  About  4  o'clock,  an  unfavorable 
change  took  place,  which  she  considered  a  sure  indication  of  the 
approach  of  death,  and  a  special  call  to  her  to  set  her  house  in 
order. 

At  this  time,  Dr.  Scudder  was  absent,  having  been  called  to 
Manepy,  to  attend  Mr.  Woodward.  Mr.  Richards,  though  in  some 
degree  alarmed  by  the  change  to  which  I  have  here  alluded,  did  not 
express  to  us  his  fears.  Mrs.  Poor,  after  speaking  of  the  quietude 
and  peace  of  mind  she  felt,  began  to  address  me  as  from  the  bor- 
ders of  the  eternal  state.  She  repeated,  with  some  additions,  the 
same  sentiments  she  had  expressed  on  the  morning  of  the  preceding 
day.  She  commended  me  to  the  kindness  of  the  brethren  and  sis- 
ters of  the  mission,  and  to  God, — and  rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  our 
being  soon  united  in  the  mansions  above. 

She  then  spoke  of  her  own  life  and  conduct ;  of  her  numerous 
offenses  ;  how  unfaithfully  she  had  served  her  God  and  Savior;  and 
how  undeserving  she  was  of  the  numerous  blessings  he  had  bestow- 
ed upon  her  ;  but  that,  notwithstanding  her  guilt  and  unworthiness, 
she  indulged  confident  hopes  of  pardon  and  acceptance  with  God7 
through  the  blood  of  Christ.  She  expressed  a  lively  sense  of  God's 
goodness  in  manifesting  himself  to  her  in  a  special  manner,  at  this 
hour  of  extremity  ;  in  his  taking  away  the  sting  of  death  ;  in  giving 
her  peace  of  mind  :  and  in  filling  her  soul  with  precious  foretastes  of 
the  joys  of  heaven.  It  did  indeed  appear,  from  her  observations? 
especially  from  the  manner  in  which  they  were  made,  that  her  fel- 
lowship was  with  the  Father  and  with  the  Son  Jesus  Christ.  She 
begged  us  to  be  faithful  with  her  in  that  critical  hour,  if  we  perceiv- 
ed that  she  was  in  danger  of  deceiving  herself. 

After  a  short  interval,  she  spoke  of  those  dear  babes  she  was 
about  to  leave.  She  adverted,  with  expressions  of  gratitude,  to  the 
exercises  of  her  mind  concerning  them,  on  the  preceding  day,  and 
observed,  that  she  had  committed  them  into  the  hands  of  God,  and 
had  no  desire  to  see  them  again.  She  then  pointed  out  the  good 
and  bad  qualities  of  each  of  them  ;  commended  them  to  the  kind 
care  of  the  sisters  present;  and  intreated  them  to  bear  with  their 
defects,  and  to  watch  over  them  while  they  continued  in  this  heathen 
land,  adding,  "  God  will  reward  you  for  all  you  do  for  them."  She 
told  with  what  feelings  she  had  desired  a  son,  and  what  were  her 
hopes  concerning  him  ;  viz.  that  he  might  perpetuate  his  father's 
name  ;  that  he  might  early  become  a  child  of  God,  a  preacher  of 
the  Gospel,  and  a  helper  in  the  mission. 


496 


MEMOIRS    OF 


She  then  addressed  the  brethren  and  sisters  present,  and  sent 
messages  to  some  who  were  absent.  She  observed,  that  she  had  a 
good  hope  that  they  were  all  the  dear  children  of  God,  that  she 
had  a  love  for  them  all ;  and  left  them  with  the  expectation  of  being 
united  with  them  in  the  world  to  come.  She  pointed  out  some  par- 
ticulars wherein  she  thought,  that,  as  a  body  of  missionaries,  or  a 
church  of  Christ,  we  had  all  been  deficient  in  duty  toward  each 
other.  She  advised  to  the  use  of  some  special  means  for  watching 
over  each  other's  souls,  and  for  promoting  the  growth  of  divine  grace 
in  the  heart.  She  urged  the  importance  of  our  making  it  one  dis- 
tinct object  of  pursuit,  to  grow  in  the  knowledge  of  the  word  of  God, 
This  she  did,  in  view  of  what  she  considered  to  be  her  own  neglect 
of  this  duty,  and  of  her  present  convictions  of  its  importance. 

She  then  spoke  of  her  father,  brothers,  and  sisters,  and  of  many 
dear  friends  in  America,  to  several  of  whom  she  sent  particular  mes- 
sages, and  requested  me  to  write  to  them. 

I  observed  to  her,  that,  as  some  of  her  friends  were  opposed  to 
her  engaging  in  the  work  of  the  mission,  they  might  wish  to  know 
how  she  viewed  the  subject  at  the  last.  "  What  they  said  by  way  of 
opposing,"  she  observed,  "  was  mere  talk.  Their  objections  arose 
principally  from  their  unwillingness  to  part  with  me."  Shortly  after 
she  said,  "  But  in  answer  to  what  you  have  suggested,  you  well 
know  that  I  have  no  enthusiastic  notions  on  the  subject.  I  had  no 
expectations  of  doing  great  things.  On  the  contrary,  my  expecta- 
tions were  low,  though  I  wished  to  do  what  I  could.  I  think  the 
opportunities  for  a  female's  usefulness  here  should  be  considered  as  on 
a  level  with  those  enjoyed  in  America.  Many  females  there  move 
in  a  more  important  sphere  than  they  could  in  a  heathen  land.  I 
never  should  have  thought  that  I  had  any  duty  to  do  among  the  hea- 
then, had  you  not  invited  me  to  come.  I  am  satisfied  with  the 
course  I  pursued."  For  several  years  past  she  has  often  expressed 
the  idea,  that  she  did  not  originally  expect  to  do  more,  or  to  see  more 
accomplished  in  the  furtherance  of  the  object  of  this  mission,  than 
she  had  already  witnessed.  Several  months  ago,  when  we  were  en- 
deavoring to  establish  Tuesday  schools  for  females,  in  villages  near 
the  station,  and  when  it  was  in  contemplation  to  admit  several  per- 
sons, the  first  fruits  from  the  heathen  in  this  place,  to  the  ordinance 
of  Baptism,  and  the  Lord's  supper,  she  observed,  "  that  if  she  saw 
these  two  objects  accomplished,  she  should  be  ready  to  say  with 
Simeon,  Now  lettest  thou,  fyc.  She  witnessed  the  latter  the  day  be- 
fore her  last  sickness  commenced.  The  schools  had  been  previously 
established. 

During  the  time  of  her  remarks  on  the  subjects  abovementioned, 
she  was  more  free  from  pain  than  she  had  been  for  several  days  be- 
fore. Her  mind  was  composed  and  active  as  usual ;  though  on  ac- 
count of  her  weakness  of  body,  she  was  obliged  often  to  desist  from 
speaking  and  to  take  cordials* 


MRS.     SUSAN     POOR.  497 

After  lying  quiet  for  some  time,  she  requested  me  to  bring  from 
her  writing  desk,  her  covenant,  which  she  wished  to  have  read. 
This  paper,  I  discovered,  for  the  first  time,  a  few  weeks  previous  to 
her  last  illness.  It  contains  a  formal  dedication  of  herself  to  God, 
and  an  enumeration  of  the  blessings  she  wished  him  to  bestow 
upon  her.  Having  read  the  covenant,  she  observed,  "  The  Lord 
has  been  faithful  on  his  part :  he  has  done  all  things  well ;  but  I 
have  been  unfaithful ;  I  have  many  times  broken  my  engagements ; 
I  have  forfeited  all  claim  to  the  blessings  of  the  covenant ;  yet  it  is 
a  covenant  well  ordered  in  all  things  and  sure."  "  Yes,"  said  she, 
(repeating  the  words  of  the  covenant,)  "  He  does  look  down  with 
pity  upon  his  languishing,  dying  child  ;  he  does  embrace  me  in  his 
everlasting  arms,  &c."  The  date  of  this  paper  is  Salem,  January 
11th,  1811. 

Towards  evening  Dr.  Scudder  returned  from  Manepy,  in  compa- 
ny with  Mrs.  Winslow.  The  brethren  Scudder  and  Richards 
thought  it  their  duty  to  inform  us,  that  they  could  indulge  little  or  no 
hope  of  her  recovery.  She  received  the  information  with  a  smile, 
observing  that  "  it  was  a  confirmation  of  her  own  opinion."  A  new 
excitement  appeared  to  be  given  to  her  mind.  "  Now,"  said  she, 
"  I  think  I  can  see  my  children  once  more  ;  where  are  they  ?"  Af- 
ter they  were  called  in,  she  gave  each  of  them  a  parting  embrace 
and  kiss,  and  made  some  observations  similar  to  those  already  re- 
lated. She  then  commended  them  to  God,  in  a  fervent  prayer, 
beginning  with  "  Lord  Jesus,  receive  these  Lambs,  he.  In  this 
prayer  she  expressed  much  confidence  in  the  belief  that  God  would 
not  forsake  them. 

She  then  expressed  a  wish  to  have  the  servants  called  around  her. 
As  this  occasioned  some  alarm,  the  native  boys  and  girls  connected 
with  the  family  hastily  entered,  and  filled  the  room.  Addressing  the 
servants  in  their  own  language,  she  told  them  that  she  should  soon 
leave  them.  She  reminded  them  of  what  she  had  often  said  to 
them,  concerning  their  souls,  and  exhorted  them  to  prepare  for 
death,  by  turning  from  their  idols,  and  by  repentance  and  faith  in 
Christ  the  only  Savior.  She  spoke  to  the  native  school  girls  to  the 
same  effect.  Then  taking  Nicholas,  my  native  assistant,  by  the 
hand,  she  addressed  him  as  a  brother  of  the  church  ; — pointed  out 
his  duty  and  obligations  to  the  heathen,  and  exhorted  him  to  do  what 
he  could  to  aid  me  in  the  work  of  the  mission.  Afterwards  she  took 
Niles  and  Jordan  by  the  hand,  (two  native  boys  who  joined  the 
church  on  the  preceding  Sabbath,)  and  addressed  them  in  Tamul  as 
her  children,  and  as  babes  in  Christ ;  solemnly  warned  them  against 
drawing  back ;  encouraged  them  to  persevere  ;  and  expressed  a  hope 
that  she  should  meet  them  at  the  right  hand  of  Christ.  Both  of 
them  were  deeply  affected.  The  other  boys  appeared  desirous  of 
taking  her  hand  ;  but  as  she  was  then  quite  exhausted,  she  told 
Nicholas,  to  go  and  address  them   in  her  name.     She  again  expres- 

63 


498  MEMOIRS  OF 

sed  her  belief,  in  strong  terms,  that  God  would  soon  visit  the  heathen 
in  mercy.  She  prayed  fervently  for  their  salvation  and  for  the  pros- 
perity of  Zion. 

Soon  after,  in  the  course  of  the  evening,  she  gave  many  directions 
concerning  the  temporal  affairs  of  the  family  and  station.  Her 
mind  continued  to  be  in  a  sweet  and  heavenly  frame.  Frequently 
she  would  abruptly  exclaim,  "  What  a  wonder,  what  a  wonder,  what 
a  wonder !  that  even  I  should  have  such  joy  and  peace  at  this  hour. 
It  is  more  than  I  prayed  for.  I  can  say  with  brother  Warren,*  "  Is 
this  death?"  Yes,  this  is  death.  O  that  was  a  good  exhortation 
which  he  sent  to  us,  '  Be  ye  faithful  unto  death.'  But  I  do  not  see 
the  kind  angel,  whom  he  saw.     Yet  I  can  trust  in  Jesus." 

On  being  raised  up  in  bed  to  take  some  refreshing  drink ;  "  My 
Master,"  said  she,  "  in  his  last  extremity,  had  gall  and  vinegar  to 
drink ;  he  was  forsaken  by  his  friends,  and  even  by  his  heavenly 
Father ;  but  I  have  every  comfort,  am  surrounded  by  beloved  breth- 
ren and  sisters,"  [here  she  embraced  them,]  "  and  have  the  light  of 
God's  countenance.  Oh,  he  graciously  smooths  the  way  through  the 
dark  valley." 

She  was  more  free  from  pain  during  the  night,  and  had  more  quiet 
sleep  than  she  had  enjoyed  for  four  days  previously.  Whenever  she 
awoke  from  a  short  season  of  repose,  she  spoke  as  one  very  near 
the  heavenly  state.  She  often  repeated  some  parts  of  "  The  dying 
Christian."  Once  on  waking  she  whispered  with  much  emphasis, 
"  Lend,  lend  your  wings." 

At  midnight  we  thought  her  departing,  and  called  the  brethren  and 
sisters  to  witness  the  solemn  scene.  Her  pulse  nearly  cased  to  beat. 
She  however  revived,  and  appeared  to  have  a  little  more  strength. 

During  the  night  she  had  an  unusual  degree  of  tenderness  and 
sweetness  of  spirit.  She  continually  expressed  a  lively  sense  of 
gratitude  towards  every  one  who  rendered  her  the  least  assistance, 
and  toward  God  for  providing  for  her  such  friends.  She  was  also 
tenderly  alive  to  the  danger  of  sinning.  When  she  suddenly  moved 
herself  in  bed,  or  declined  any  thing  that  was  offered  her,  she  would 
often  say,  "  I  hope  this  is  not  sin ;  tell  me  when  I  am  in  danger  of 
doing  wrong ;  help  me  to  keep  from  sinning." 

On  Saturday  morning  about  ten  o'clock,  Mr.  Chater,  Baptist  mis- 
sionary from  Columbo,  who  has  kindly  favored  us  with  a  visit  of  sev- 
eral weeks  at  our  stations, — came  to  Tillipally.  Immediately  on  his 
arrival,  she  requested,  as  was  her  practice  when  Christian  friends 
came,  to  unite  with  him  in  prayer  and  thanksgiving.  As  Mr.  Chater 
was  about  to  lead  in  prayer,  she  requested  us  to  sing  the  hymn, 

"  Jesus  with  all  thy  saints  above,"  &c. 

in  the  tune  of  Arlington,     At  this  time  many  of  the  natives,  having 
heard  of  her  dangerous  illness,  had  assembled  around  the  house. 

*  The  Rev.  Edward  Warren,  Missionary  in  Ceylon,  who  died  there  a  short  time 

before. 


MRS.   SUSAN  POOR.  499 

After  we  had  sung  a  part  of  the  first  verse,  Mrs.  P.,  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  all,  joined  with  much  elevation  of  spirit  in  singing.  Though 
her  voice  was  tremulous  and  weak,  it  was  as  loud  as  usual,  and  to 
our  ears  much  more  melodious.  It  appeared  that  every  strain  must 
be  the  last  effort  she  could  possibly  make.  She,  however,  continued 
through  the  hymn,  and  sung  the  last  verse  with  more  animation  than 
the  preceding.     The  last  line  of  the  hymn  is, 

"  Or  saints  to  feel  his  grace." 

Her  mind  appeared  to  fasten  upon  the  last  word,  which  she  protract- 
ed a  little  in  singing,  and  then  exclaimed.  "  O  to  grace  how  great 
a  debtor," — "  do  sing."  But  here  she  sunk  down,  being  quite  ex- 
hausted. We,  who  commenced  the  singing,  were  so  deeply  affect- 
ed, by  the  scene  before  us,  that  several  times  no  voice  of  the  com- 
pany was  heard  but  that  of  Mrs.  Poor. 

The  circumstance  of  our  singing  induced  the  natives  to  crowd  into 
the  house,  and  about  the  windows.  They  also  were  deeply  affected, 
and  it  was  a  season  of  weeping  to  all  present.  We,  who  knew  her 
case,  wept  for  joy ;  others,  many  of  them  no  doubt,  by  the  power  of 
sympathy,  and  in  consequence  of  the  strangeness  of  the  scene.  As 
we  were  about  to  kneel  down  by  her  bed  side.  Mr.  Chater  observ- 
ed, "  Let  us  not  pray  but  praise"  He  then  gave  most  hearty  thanks 
to  God,  for  the  special  manifestations  of  his  grace  to  his  dying  child, 
in  which  she  evidently  joined  with  great  delight.  When  he  gave 
thanks  to  God  for  giving  her  the  victory,  she  interrupted  him,  saying, 
"  I  have  much  for  which  to  praise  him,  but  the  victory  is  not  yet  com- 
plete. I  am  still  on  the  enemy's  ground,  and  we  must  watch  unto 
prayer."  Afterward,  when  he  gave  thanks  that  Christ  appeared  to 
be  present  to  take  his  handmaid  home,  she,  with  much  feeling  and 
many  tears  said,  "  But  I  can't  see  him  ;  is  he  here  ?  Why  then  do 
I  not  see  him  ?"  Several  times  afterward  she  observed,  "  I  can't  see 
him,"  meaning  that  she  could  not  see  Christ  with  her  bodily  eyes. 
On  being  told,  that  she  could  not  expect  to  have  such  a  view  of  him. 
She  quickly  replied,  "  But  do  you  not  believe  that  our  dear  brother 
Warren  saw  Christ,  when  he  said,  "  O  thou  kind  angel,  conduct  me, 
conduct  me."  "  "  We  cannot  say,"  said  brother  Richards,  "  that  he 
saw  any  thing  with  his  mortal  eyes."  "  O  yes,"  said  she,  "  he  did, 
I  fully  believe  it."  After  a  little  reflection,  she  seemed  to  doubt  the 
propriety  of  expecting  any  thing  like  a  vision.  Though  she  seemed 
to  triumph  in  hope,  she  several  times  complained  that  the  tempter 
was  present,  and  that  he  suggested  evil  thoughts  to  her  mind,  against 
which  she  frequently  called  upon  the  brethren  to  pray. 

Previously  to  Mr.  Chater's  arrival,  (as  I  should  have  before  men- 
tioned,) Mr.  Winslow  came.  When  Mrs.  Poor  requested  him  to 
pray,  she  said,  she  had  petitions  for  him  to  offer  on  her  account;  one 
of  which  was,  that  she  might  have  an  easy  departure  ;  the  other,  that 
God  would  leave  a  blessing  behind  her.  She  afterwards  requested 
him  to  find  and  read  to  her  the  psalm,   which  contains  the  words, 


500  MEMOIRS  OF 

"Yet  in  the  midst  of  grief  and  death."  [See  Psalm  103,  L.  M. 
first  part.] 

About  eleven  o'clock,  Mr.  Meigs,  and  Mr.  Knight,  Church  Mis- 
sionary from  Nellore,  came  to  see  us.  After  leading  in  prayer,  at 
her  request,  we  sung  the  hymn, 

"  And  let  this  feeble  body  fail, 
And  let  it  faint  and  die,"  &c. 

in  the  tune  of  St.  PauVs.  Mrs.  Poor's  feelings  strongly  prompted 
her  to  join  in  singing,  which  she  several  times  attempted  to  do,  but 
her  strength  would  not  permit.  At  twelve  o'clock  we  thought  her 
departing ;  but  she  again  revived,  and  at  four  o'clock  P.  M.  her 
symptoms  in  a  most  important  respect,  became  more  favorable.  We 
had  a  gleam  of  hope  that  she  would  be  spared  to  us.  When  she 
understood  that  this  was  her  case,  she  expressed  by  her  countenance 
much  disappointment,  and  regret;  but  soon  observed,  that  she  had 
given  herself  to  the  Lord,  and  would  endeavor  to  be  resigned  to  his 
will.  She  did  not,  however,  herself  believe,  that  she  should  be 
brought  back  again  to  the  world. 

In  the  evening  our  kind  friend,  Mr.  Mooyart,  came,  to  whom  she 
made  several  remarks  expressive  of  the  joyful  state  of  her  mind,  in 
prospect  of  a  speedy  departure. 

In  order  to  prevent  repetition,  and  to  give  some  just  idea  of  Mrs. 
Poor's  case,  it  may  be  observed  that,  during  almost  the  whole  season 
of  her  illness,  her  bodily  sufferings  were  great.  It  rarely  happens 
that  a  sick  person  requires  so  great  and  constant  attention  as  she  re- 
quired. Four  watchers,  besides  native  attendants,  were  requisite 
every  night.  Two  were  needed  at  a  time,  but  could  not,  without 
much  inconvenience  to  themselves,  sit  more  than  five  or  six  hours  at 
once.  It  also  rarely  happens,  that  it  is  practicable  for  a  sick  person 
to  be  so  constantly  attended  by  so  many  beloved  brethren  and  sisters, 
as  were  with  her  on  this  occasion.  The  means  of  contributing  to 
her  comfort  were  in  proportion  to  her  wants.  Two  skilful  physicians 
belonging  to  our  own  mission  were  almost  constantly  with  her ;  and 
many  articles  of  bedding  and  clothing,  which  were  greatly  needed, 
were  furnished  from  our  several  stations.  Nor  were  her  spiritual 
necessities  less  numerous,  or  less  abundantly  supplied.  She  needed 
to  be  fed  almost  constantly  with  the  milk  of  the  Word, — with  the 
bread  and  water  of  life.  She  very  frequently  spoke  to  herself,  to 
those  around  her,  and  to  God,  in  psalms  and  hymns  and  spiritual 
songs, — and  requested  those  present  to  read  to  her  select  portions  of 
the  word  of  God,  to  which  she  directed.  Her  mind  never  appeared 
to  be  more  active  and  energetic.  She  spoke  freely  on  a  great  variety 
of  subjects,  ana"  her  remarks,  though  often  in  a  whisper,  were  em- 
phatic and  impressive. 

On  Sabbath  morn  she  observed,  "  This  is  a  delightful  day.  I 
think  I  shall  go  to  day,  and  that  my  everlasting  Sabbath  will  begin." 


MRS.    SUSAN    POOR.  501 

After  lying  some  time  in  a  low  and  sinking  state,  she  exclaimed,  with 
much  expression  of  feeling,  "  Now  I  see  my  Jesus."  Do  you  see 
him,  said  I?  "O  yes, — all  bright  and  glorious ;"  and  then  repeated, 
"  all  bright  and  glorious."  She  then  covered  her  eyes  and  said, 
"  O  keep  me  from  beholding  these  earthly  things.  I  wish  to  see 
only  spiritual  objects."  After  a  little  repose,  "  Perfect  love,"  said 
she,  "  casteth  out  fear.  I  have  not  perfect  love,  and  yet  fear  is 
almost,  and  sometimes  quite  cast  out." 

In  the  course  of  the  forenoon,  she  spoke  Tamul  with  the  native 
female  servants  around  her,  and  said,  "  I  am  now  going,  I  am  very 
happy,  I  am  going  to  be  with  Jesus.  You  also  must  prepare  to  die. 
If  you  would  die  happy,  you  must  receive  Jesus."  Other  remarks 
she  made  of  a  similar  nature.  • 

Shortly  after  this,  on  hearing  a  clap  of  thunder,  she  observed, 
"  sweet  sound."  Soon  after,  being  a  little  agitated  in  mind,  "  O, 
that  day  ;" — then  appeared  to  be  in  pain  to  express  something,  but 
said,  faintly,  "  can't  think, — can't  take  in  the  idea."  But  immediate- 
ly exclaimed,  "Glory,  glory,  I  see  him; — his  chariot  wheels,  how 
bright  they  are."  She  was  quiet  a  few  minutes,  and  then  repeated 
several  times  with  a  low  tone  of  voice,  but  with  much  emphasis,  "  How 
bright  and  glorious."  A  few  hours  after,  having  watched  for  a  favor- 
able opportunity,  I  asked  what  she  saw,  when  she  uttered  the  ex- 
pressions which  I  have  here  noticed.  She  replied,  that  she  had  a 
distinct  view  of  a  part  of  the  train  of  the  Son  of  God,  coming  in 
the  clouds  of  heaven  to  judge  the  world,  agreeably  to  the  description 
of  that  event  in  the  word  of  God. 

After  being  a  little  refreshed  by  taking  some  wine,  she  repeated, 
or  rather  adopted  as  her  own,  most  of  the  Apostle's  prayer  in  Ephe- 
sians  iii,  16,  he.  Strengthen  me  with  might,  by  thy  Spirit,  fyc.  fyc. 
then  forcibly  added,  "  Strengthen  me,  O  Lord,  by  thy  word, — thine 
own  precious  word, — that  blessed  word,  which  this  people  despise, 
but  in  which  thou  hast  caused  thy  servant  to  hope."  On  her  waking 
from  sleep,  I  asked  her  whether  she  still  kept  her  bold  on  Jesus  ? 
"  O  yes,"  said  she,  "  I  have  a  sweet  frame.  I  think  it  will  be  con- 
tinued to  the  end.  It  appears  but  a  very  little  way  across  the  river." 
In  the  afternoon  she  expressed  some  fears,  lest  the  servants  and  the 
people  around  her,  would  not  distinguish  between  her  cries  occasion- 
ed by  bodily  distress,  and  her  singing,  which  was  expressive  of  the  joys 
of  her  mind.  She  requested  me  to  call  them  and  explain  the  sub- 
ject, and  to  give  them  a  word  of  exhortation,  such  as  the  occasion 
suggested.  Soon  after,  eight  or  ten  women,  with  whom  she  had 
been  much  acquainted,  came  to  see  her.  She  often  expressed  the 
gratification  she  felt  on  being  able  to  converse  with  the  natives  who 
visited  her,  in  their  own  language.  They  expressed  much  surprise, 
that  we  were  so  quiet  and  cheerful.  It  is  their  practice  on  such  oc- 
casions, to  roll,  beat  themselves,  and  scream  aloud.  The  reasons  of 
our  being  peaceful  and  quiet  in   such  trials  were   fully  explained  by 


502  MEMOIRS    OP 

Mr.  Chater,  who  preached  in  the  church  from  1  Thess.  iv,  13.    But 
1  would  not  have  you  to  be  ignorant,  fyc. 

As  we  hourly  expected  the  coming  of  the  Lord  to  take  his  hand- 
maid home,  we  had  special  prayer  several  times  in  the  day,  that 
while  present  on  such  an  occasion,  he  would  scatter  some  spiritual 
blessings  around,  and  thus  leave  abiding  evidence,  that  he  had  been 
in  a  special  manner  with  us.  In  the  evening,  Mr.  Mooyart  came  into 
the  room,  and  asked  her  if  she  still  trusted  in  Christ.  lil  am  rest- 
ing," said  she,  "  In  his  arms.-— Some  sinful  thoughts ; — much  bodily 
distress."  Several  times,  in  the  course  of  the  day  and  evening,  she 
observed  faintly,  "  Why  this  lingering — why  this  lingering—hush — - 
patience,  patience." 

Her  corporal  sufferings  greatly  increased.  She  seemed,  however, 
to  have  remarkably  clear  and  lively  views  of  divine  truth.  About  12 
o'clock  at  night,  while  lying  in  a  state  of  extreme  suffering,  almost  in- 
sensible to  every  thing  around  her,  she  broke  out  with  a  loud  voice  in 
a  long  prayer.  She  began  by  praying  that  the  Lord  would  show  her 
wherefore  he  contended  with  her.  "  Has  not  Jesus  suffered  enough  ? 
Why  then  should  I  thus  suffer  ?  O  Lord,  look  down  upon  thy  lan- 
guishing, dying  child.  But  if  it  be  necessary  for  me  to  be  conform- 
ed to  my  suffering  Savior,  O  Lord,  grant  me  patience  to  endure  it. 
I  fly  to  thee,  O  my  beloved.  '  Other  refuge  have  I  none.'  I  seek 
no  other.  I  have  sought  no  other.  Thou  art  my  beloved.  Otake 
me  from  this  suffering  state.  Receive  me  to  those  mansions  of  peace, 
and  joy,  where  the  Father  dwelleth  ;  where  the  Son  dwelleth ;  where 
the  Holy  Ghost  dwelleth ;  where  the  four  and  twenty  elders  dwell ; 
where  with  united  heart  and  voice  they  sing,  "  Unto  him  that  loved 
us,  and  washed  us  in  his  own  blood,  fyc."  These  were  but  a  part 
of  her  expressions. 

As  this  prayer,  which  was  heard  in  every  apartment  of  the  house, 
was  evidently  occasioned  by  great  bodily  distress,  and  was  the  lan- 
guage of  an  overcoming  faith  and  triumphant  hope,  it  produced  im- 
pressions upon  our  minds  unusually  solemn,  that  God  was  present 
both  to  afflict  and  to  console.  Soon  after,  she  was  almost  entirely 
relieved  from  her  distress,  and  slept  quietly  till  morning. 

Monday — She  lay  in  a  weak  and  languishing  state,  having  a  de- 
sire to  depart.  It  appeared  from  her  occasional  remarks,  and  quo- 
tations from  Scripture,  that  her  thoughts  were  directed  with  interest 
to  divine  subjects,  particularly  to  the  doctrine  of  the  resurrection, 
Several  time,  during  her  sickness,  she  repeated  the  verse, 

"Corruption,  earth,  and  worms 
Shall  but  refine  this  flesh, 
Till  my  triumphant  spirit  comes 
To  put  it  on  afresh." 

About  one  o'clock  P.  M.  she  roused  from  a  slumbering  state,  and 
appeared  to  have  an  unusual  degree  of  vigor,  both  of  body  and  mind. 
She  requested  me  to  read  to  her  from  the  Word  of  God.     I  (old 


MRS.    SUSAN    POOR.  503 

her,  she  doubtless  recollected  the  rich  provision  for  passing  Jordan, 
which  Mrs.  Graham  made,  and  that  I  would  read  those  extracts  from 
Scripture,  which  are  contained  in  her  life.  She  was  pleased  with 
the  proposal ;  and  as  I  read  and  paused  at  short  intervals,  she  mado 
many  short  but  striking  comments  upon  the  passages  read.  Her  re- 
marks at  this  time,  were  indicative  of  a  mind  exquisitely  alive  to 
perceive  the  moral  beauty,  and  to  feel  the  supreme  importance,  of 
divine  truth.  Those  passages  which  most  clearly  brought  to  view 
the  atoning  sacrifice  for  sin,  by  the  blood  of  Christ,  attracted  her  at- 
tention with  the  deepest  interest.  She  regarded  them  as  the  foun- 
dation stones  of  that  building,  in  which  she  had  taken  refuge  and  in 
which  she  could  quietly  rest,  even  in  view  of  the  great  day  of  the 
wrath  of  the  Lamb. 

In  the  course  of  this  reading  and  conversation,  which  continued 
some  hours,  "We  all  are,  I  think,"  said  she,  "  deficient  in  our  thanks- 
giving to  God,  in  not  particularly  remembering  those  exhibitions  of 
his  character,  which  were  made  in  his  devising  and  commencing  the 
wonderful  plan  of  redemption.  We  appear  to  regard  it  as  a  thing 
of  course,  and  to  have  our  thoughts  occupied  mainly  with  the  con- 
sequences of  the  plan."  From  her  remarks  on  this  subject,  it  would 
seem,  that  in  her  reflections  she  carried  her  mind  back  to  that  aw- 
fully interesting  period,  when  God  displayed  his  justice  in  the  ever- 
lasting destruction  of  the  fallen  angels,  and  then  started  the  question^ 
What  shall  be  done  to  the  rebellious  race  of  man  ?  The  proceedings 
of  Jehovah  at  that  time  ought  to  be  particularly  remembered,  she 
thought,  in  our  seasons  of  praise  and  thanksgiving.  She  repeatedly 
requested  us  to  sing. 

After  I  had  read  nearly  all  the  extracts  from  Scripture,  which 
Mrs.  Graham  made,  Mrs.  Poor  observed,  "Brethren,  do  again  ex- 
amine me.  For  is  it  not  possible  that  I  may  be  under  a  mistake  ? 
I  wish  you  to  repeat  what  you  consider  real  evidences  of  grace,  or 
proper  qualifications  for  heaven."  As  she  and  I  had  recently  read 
Dr.  Dwight's  Sermons  on  the  evidences  of  regeneration,  I  followed 
nearly  his  order,  in  bringing  to  her  view  the  evidences  she  wished  to 
hear  stated.  As  they  were  proposed  to  her  one  by  one,  she  with 
great  discrimination,  as  in  the  light  of  eternity,  and  tremblingly  alive 
to  the  danger  of  being  deceived,  applied  them  to  herself,  and  drew 
the  conclusion,  often  with  confidence,  in  her  own  favor.  The  follow- 
ing is  a  specimen  of  the  manner  in  which  she  treated  this  subject : — - 

"  Love  to  the  brethren,"  said  I,  "  is  another  evidence  much  in- 
sisted on  by  the  inspired  writers."  "  Here,"  said  she,  "  I  must 
think.  I  cannot  say,  that  I  have  loved  all  who  are  in  reality  the 
disciples  of  Christ.  I  can  conceive  that  the  image  of  Christ  may 
often  be  obscured  in  a  real  Christian ;  or  owing,  it  may  be,  to  some 
fault  in  us,  perhaps  for  the  want  of  proper  knowledge  or  intercourse, 
we  may  not  clearly  see  the  image  which  really  exists.  But  examin- 
ing myself  on  this  point,  I  can  with  confidence  say,  that  I  have  con- 


504  MEMOIRS  OF 

sidered  the  saints  to  be  the  excellent  of  the  earth;  and  that  in  them 
has  been  all  my  delight ;  and  that  those  in  whom  I  have  seen  the 
brightest  evidences  of  piety,  have  been  the  friends  dearest  to  my 
heart." 

I  then  asked  her,  whether  she  could  adopt  the  language  of  the 
Psalmist,  Whom  have  1  in  heaven  but  thee,  fyc.  "  Here,"  said  she, 
"  I  cannot  doubt."  She  then  repeated  those  words  in  the  form  of 
an  address,  or  rather  as  an  appeal  to  God.  It  may  be  considered 
some  proof  of  her  sincerity  to  observe,  that  several  times  during 
her  sickness,  when  perfectly  quiet,  both  in  body  and  mind,  she  ob- 
served, "  Much  as  I  have  loved,  and  do  still  love,  my  dear  husband 
and  children,  1  wish  to  remain  with  them  no  longer."  As  I  was  re- 
moving her  from  one  bed  to  another,  she  gave  me  a  kiss,  and  ob- 
served with  an  affectionate  but  solemn  tone  of  voice,  "  I  wish  to  be 
in  your  arms  no  more,  but  to  rest  in  the  arms  of  my  Savior."  Her 
mind  often  turned  with  much  interest  to  the  subject  of  our  being  re- 
united in  the  worship  and  service  of  God  above. 

After  remaining  quiet  for  a  short  time,  she  said,  "  I  have  a  great 
degree  of  calmness  and  peace  of  mind,  but  no  ecstacies.  Did  he 
promise  to  give  ecstacies  in  this  hour?  I  feel  that  I  am  near  heaven." 
She  many  times  observed,  with  expressions  of  gratitude,  that  God 
had  abundantly  answered  the  many  prayers  which  had  been  offered 
on  her  account ;  that  he  had  relieved  her  from  her  bodily  distress ; 
and  had  given  her  joy  and  peace  in  believing. 

In  the  evening,  George  Kock,  a  young  man  from  Jaffna,  who  had 
formerly  resided  in  the  family  for  some  years,  came  to  see  Mrs.  Poor. 
She  gave  him  her  hand,  and  expressed  some  pleasure  on  seeing  him. 
He  said,  that  he  wished  to  improve  the  opportunity  of  expressing  his 
obligations  to  her,  for  all  she  did  for  him  while  residing  in  the  family; 
and  said  that  he  now  indulged  the  hope,  that  he  knew  something  of 
the  preciousness  of  that  Savior  whom  she  so  often  and  earnestly 
urged  him  to  seek.  She  then  exhorted  him  to  beware  of  self-decep- 
tion— to  be  watchful,  humble,  and  persevering.  When  he  expressed 
his  many  obligations  to  her,  she  replied,  "If  you  think  you  owe  me 
any  thing,  pay  it  to  the  heathen;"  and  then  said,  with  more  empha- 
sis, "  If  any  think  they  owe  me  any  thing,  let  them  pay  it  to  the 
heathen." 

Between  nine  and  ten  o'clock,  both  Mrs.  P.  and  all  present, 
thought  she  was  about  to  depart.  Her  whole  deportment  was  that 
of  a  person  held  between  this  and  the  heavenly  state.  "  Last  Sab- 
bath," she  observed,  (meaning  the  Sabbath  preceding  the  last,  when 
the  first  fruits  from  the  heathen  in  this  place  were  received  into  the 
church,)  "  With  desire  I  desired  to  eat  the  passover  once  more,  and 
God  permitted  me  to  do  it.  I  thought  it  would  be  the  last  time.  I 
wish  now  to  have  a  glass  of  wine  with  you,  and  to  take  my  leave  of 
you  all."  As  she  repeatedly  made  this  request,  we  improved  the 
first  favorable  opportunity.     The  brethren  and  sisters  present,  being 


MRS.  SUSAN  POOR.  505 

seven  in  number,  besides  myself,  stood  around  her  bed,  and  brother 
Richards  invoked  a  blessing.  Being  then  raised  up,  by  several  per- 
sons, she  took  the  glass,  and  said,  "  This  wine,  emblematical  of  that 
blood  which  was  shed  for  the  remission  of  sins,  even  my  sins,  I  now 
share  with  you  for  the  last  time,  till  we  meet  in  our  Father's  king- 
dom." After  her,  each  of  the  brethren  and  sisters  drank,  and  ex- 
changed with  her  the  parting  kiss.  As  she  embraced  us,  she  invoked 
a  blessing  upon  each,  or  made  some  pertinent  remark  by  way  of  ex- 
hortation. Perceiving  that  she  was  failing,  we  were  obliged  to  has- 
ten. Her  last  words  at  this  time,  and  which  we  thought  would  be 
the  last  she  would  utter,  were  "thanks  for  all, — thanks  for  all."  She 
then  lay  for  some  lime  unable  to  speak.  Soon  after  she  revived  a 
little,  and  it  being  between  twelve  and  one  o'clock,  most  of  the  com- 
pany retired  to  rest.  Mrs.  Poor  became  more  wakeful,  and  was 
much  inclined  to  converse.  Her  conversation  and  whole  deport- 
ment were  unusually  interesting.  On  seeing  some  one  eating  grapes, 
she  asked,  whether  she  might  be  permitted  to  taste  one.  A  cluster 
was  then  brought,  from  which  she  took  some.  "Do  you  know,"  we 
inquired,  "of  what  you  should  be  reminded  by  these  clusters?"  "O 
yes,"  she  replied,  nodding  her  head  and  smiling.  "Well  of  what?" 
said  Mr.  Richards.  After  a  short  pause,  she  said,  "May  the  Lord 
give  you  the  spirit  of  Caleb  and  Joshua.  It  is  your  business  to  search 
out  the  goodly  land,  to  bring  back  the  clusters,  to  hold  them  up  to 
the  view  of  the  people,  and  allure  them  forward  to  Canaan."  "And 
so  give  them  a  taste  for  the  fruit  ?"  "  That  you  can't  do,"  said  she, 
"that  is  God's  work." 

This  question  concerning  the  grapes,  was  asked  in  reference  to 
the  habit  of  mind,  which  in  a  remarkable  manner  attended  her 
during  her  sickness,  of  making  use  of  the  objects  around  her  to 
bring  to  remembrance  divine  truths.  The  following  are  specimens 
of  this. 

On  being  raised  up  in  the  night  to  take  medicine  in  front  of  a 
window  which  was  open,  "  Surely,  said  she,  with  much  solemnity, 
"there  is  outer  darkness,  but  I  think  I  shall  not  dwell  there."  On 
seeing  the  dry  leaves  fall  from  a  tree  near  the  house,  "  That  tree, 
whose  leaves  are  for  the  healing  of  the  nations,  shall  never  wither." 
She  was  greatly  delighted  with  the  frequent  small  showers  of  rain 
that  fell,  as  she  felt  confident  that  the  Lord,  ere  long,  would  come 
in  like  manner,  by  his  Spirit.  On  hearing  a  dog  howl  in  the  night, 
as  she  lay  apparently  asleep,  "  Without,"  said  she,  "  are  dogs,  and 
sorcerers,"  &ic.  On  bathing  her  feet  in  water,  "Soon  I  shall  bathe 
in  the  pure  fountain."  On  drinking,  water,  "Shortly,  I  shall  not 
need  this, — there  will  be  in  me  a  well  of  water  springing  up  into 
everlasting  life."  At  another  time,  "  He  giveth  the  water  of  life." 
Many  times,  on  receiving  wine,  or  other  drink,  "  These  are  not  the 
cordials  that  I  shall  soon  have."  "  He  will  give  me  more  refreshing 
cordials,"  he.     Allusions  of  this  nature  were  numerous. 

G4 


506  MEMOIRS  OF 

1  had  no  desire  for  sleep,  but  sat  with  her  during  the  night.  She 
slept  at  short  intervals.  Her  mind,  when  she  was  awake,  was  very 
active,  both  on  temporal  and  spiritual  subjects.  She  conversed  with 
great  particularity  respecting  persons  and  things,  and  gave  many  di- 
rections on  various  subjects.  "  I  think,"  said  she,  "  I  ought  to  do 
every  thing  I  possibly  can  do,  that  may,  in  any  way,  tend  to  promote 
friendship — the  welfare  of  the  mission, — or  the  future  comfort  of 
my  dear  husband."  She  whispered  several  things  to  me  relative  to 
the  state  of  my  affairs,  after  her  departure.  Several  times  during 
the  night,  after  settling  some  small  matters,  she  composed  herself  to 
rest,  saying,  "  That  is  all.  I  have  now  done  with  this  world ;  I 
have  done  with  it.  I  have  nothing  more  to  say."  But  after  laying 
a  few  moments,  "  I  have  one  other  thought.  I  have  one  or  two 
things  more  which  I  must  mention,  then  I  have  done."  Thus  she 
continued  speaking  on  a  variety  of  subjects,  during  the  greater  part 
of  the  night.     Once,  on  waking,  she  repeated  the  verse, 

"  This  life's  a  dream,  an  empty  show,"  &c. 

and  then  added,  "I  am  now  dreaming,  but  soon  I  shall  see  realities." 
About  four  o'clock,  (Tuesday,)  her  pulse  nearly  ceased  to  beat, 
and  we  were  again  alarmed.  A  few  hours  after,  being  a  little  re- 
vived, she  expressed  some  surprise  on  finding  herself  here  on  earth, 
with  a  prospect  of  continuing  even  another  day.  She  referred  to 
the  parting  embrace  she  gave  us  the  preceding  evening,  and  observ- 
ed, "  I  thought  life  would  go  out,  before  I  could  take  leave  of  all." 
At  morning  prayers,  we  sung  the  hymn  founded  on  the  words  of 
Simeon,  JYow  lettest  thou  thy  servant  depart,  &c.  She  joined  in 
singing  a  part  of  several  verses.  As  I  sat  by  her  bed  side,  and  was 
not  careful  to  suppress  the  rising  tear,  she  gave  me  a  look  of  sur- 
prise, and  said,  "  But  will  you  faint  now?  Having  witnessed  how 
bountifully  the  Lord  has  dealt  with  me,  and  having  yourself  experi- 
enced such  a  special  support !"  She  then  observed  to  brother  Rich- 
ards, that  as  I  had  had  no  sleep  during  the  night,  my  nerves  were 
weak,  and  that  I  needed  some  refreshment,  which  she  requested  me 
to  take.  She  appeared  so  deeply  to  feel  that  her  services  were  no 
longer  necessary,  either  for  the  station  or  for  her  family,  and  she  had 
such  confidence  that  God  would  supply  every  deficiency,  that  she 
thought  the  occasion  called  only  for  thanksgiving  and  praise.  She 
continued  better  through  the  day,  and  we  began  to  indulge  hopes  of 
her  recovery.  I  think  she  observed  to  me,  "The  Lord  continues 
my  life  a  little,  that  I  may  arrange  some  affairs  which  will  contribute 
to  your  comfort."  At  another  time,  referring  to  the  same  subject, 
t:  Hezekiah  had  fifteen  years  added  to  his  life,  that  he  might  settle 
the  affairs  of  his  kingdom.  Perhaps  fifteen  days  will  be  added  to 
my  life,  that  I  may  settle  my  small  affairs."  She  continued  quiet 
through  the  night,  and  the  physicians  were  active  in  the  use  of 
means,  with  increasing  hopes  of  her  restoration. 


MRS.    SUSAN    POOR.  507 

On  Wednesday  morning  she  requested  us  to  read  the  116th  Psalm, 
as  being  expressive  of  her  feelings  in  view  of  God's  dealings  with 
her.  "  I  can  say,"  said  she,  "  that  in  reference  to  my  sufferings  on 
Sabbath  eve,  and  at  some  other  seasons,  the  pains  of  hell  got  hold 
upon  me ;  but  the  Lord  was  very  gracious  to  my  soul."  As  she 
appeared  to  be  better,  most  of  the  brethren  and  sisters  left  us.  At 
one  o'clock,  it  being  our  stated  season  for  prayer,  she  requested  us 
to  read  some  of  the  predictions  relative  to  the  rising  glory  of  the 
church ;  saying,  that  her  thoughts  had  been  much  turned  to  that 
subject.  We  read  the  60th  chapter  of  Isaiah,  in  which  she  appear- 
ed to  be  deeply  interested. 

In  the  afternoon,  she  was  very  weak, — her  mind  a  little  disturbed. 
Some  indications  of  delirium  excited  our  fears.  She,  however,  had 
a  quiet  night,  and  was  in  a  happy  state  of  mind,  though  she  said  but 
little. 

On  Thursday  morning,  her  mind  was  again  turned,  with  deep  in- 
terest, to  the  promises  relative  to  the  church.  We  read,  at  her  re- 
quest, the  52nd  chapter  of  Isaiah,  and  sung  the  23d  Psalm,  L.  M. 
But  little  alteration  appeared  in  her  case  during  the  day.  At  night 
she  was  very  restless,  and  most  of  the  time  exercised  with  acute 
pain. 

Friday  morning  I  was  waked  from  sleep  by  her  singing.  Per- 
ceiving something  peculiar  in  her  voice  and  manner,  I  rose  up  hast- 
ily, and  was  deeply  affected  on  learning  that  her  singing  was  the  ef- 
fect of  delirium.  About  nine  o'clock  she  was  relieved  from  her  dis- 
tress, and  was  in  a  most  joyful  state  of  mind.  The  very  name  of 
Jesus  was  truly  transporting  to  her  soul.  He  was  indeed  in  her  view 
the  chief  among  ten  thousand,  and  altogether  lovely.  She  requested 
me  to  read  some  hymns  to  her,  and  directed  me  to  those  beginning 
with  the  following  lines,  and  some  others. 

God,  my  Redeemer  lives,  &c. 

Father,  I  long,  I  faint  to  see,  Sac. 

He  lives,  the  great  Redeemer  lives,  &c. 

My  God,  my  life,  my  love,  &c. 

My  God,  my  portion,  and  my  all,  &c. 

Afterward  she  fell  into  a  drowsy  state,  and  thus  continued,  through 
the  day. 

On  Saturday  morning  she  had  some  alarming  symptoms.  But  as 
she  was  free  from  pain,  and  had  a  little  strength,  she  set  about  set- 
tling some  small  affairs,  agreeably  to  the  directions  she  gave  when 
she  thought  herself  departing.  During  her  sickness,  a  silver  urn, 
designed  for  a  sacramental  vessel,  was  brought  home  in  an  unfinish- 
ed state.  She  called  for  that,  and  gave  particular  directions  how  she 
would  have  it  finished.  She  then  told  what  had  induced  her  to  set 
apart  money  to  purchase  such  an  article.  "  I  have  often  thought," 
said  she,  "  that  if  we  could  furnish  our  own  tables  as  we  do,  it  is 


508  MEMOIRS  OF 

wrong  that  the  table  of  the  Lord  should  appear  so  mean.  I  wished 
to  have  it  furnished  in  a  manner  suitable  for  the  King.  I  hope  he 
will  not  despise  my  offering."  The  price  of  the  urn  will  be  about 
twenty  five  dollars.  She  expressed  a  wish  to  attend  to  several  other 
matters,  particularly  to  explain  some  things  relative  to  the  accounts 
of  the  family  and  station,  that  her  books  might  appear  fair  and  intel- 
ligible ;  but  her  want  of  strength  would  not  permit  her  to  do  more 
till  Monday. 

P.  M.  "  To-morrow,"  said  she,  "  will  be  the  Sabbath  ;  you  must 
now  leave  me,  and  prepare  to  meet  the  people.  See  that  you  pro- 
vide for  them  things  new  and  old."  During  the  night,  she  was  in 
some  respects  more  unwell.  Toward  morning  she  had  some  pecu- 
liarly elevated  views  of  divine  things.  It  was  a  source  of  uneasiness 
to  her,  that  she  could  not  keep  herself  fully  awake,  to  enjoy  these 
heavenly  views,  which,  without  any  effort  on  her  part,  appeared  to 
break  in  upon  the  soul.  She  spoke  with  much  animation  of  its  be- 
ing a  joyful  Sabbath,  that  it  very  aptly  represented  that  everlasting 
Sabbath  of  rest,  which  she  expected  to  enjoy  in  the  New  Jerusalem. 
Her  mind  was  much  directed  to  the  state  of  the  mission,  and  to  the 
peculiar  duties  of  the  brethren  and  sisters  as  missionaries.  "  Though 
I  feel  myself,"  said  she,  "  to  be  a  weak  woman,  I  have  strong  de- 
sires to  speak  freely  with  the  brethren  on  the  importance  of  diligence 
and  fidelity  in  the  service  of  Christ  among  the  heathen.  I  can  now 
lay  aside  every  feeling  of  restraint,  and  say  all  that  is  in  my  heart." 

She  spoke  freely  with  those  who  were  present,  and  expressed  a 
wish  to  see  others  who  were  absent.  The  substance  of  her  conver- 
sation was  to  point  out  in  what  manner  she  thought  the  different  tal- 
ents of  individuals  might  be  improved  to  the  best  advantage  in  the 
mission, — and  in  what  respect  she  thought  we  were  in  danger  of  not 
doing  all  that  might  be  done. 

As  our  arrangements  had  been  unexpectedly  made  for  brother 
Spaulding  to  preach  in  the  church,  I  thought  to  spend  the  day  with 
Mrs.  Poor.  But  after  the  conversation  to  which  I  have  referred, 
"  I  think,"  said  she,  "  that  no  one  who  has  a  heart  and  tongue  to 
speak  for  Christ,  should  be  idle  on  the  Sabbath,  and  I  cannot  con- 
sent to  your  remaining  at  home  with  me."  Perceiving  how  she  felt 
on  the  subject,  I  went  out  and  preached  from  house  to  house.  On 
my  return,  between  twelve  and  one  o'clock,  she  inquired  with  much 
earnestness,  "  Have  you  preached  the  word  in  faith  ?  Yo\i  can  have 
no  success  without  faith."  She  made  similar  observations  to  brother 
Spaulding  when  he  came  from  the  church.  She  then  told  me  how 
great  her  joys  had  been ; — that  she  never  had  such  a  Sabbath  be- 
fore. "  I  can  say  with  brother  Warren,  I  have  had  as  great  joys  as 
this  weak  frame  could  endure.  I  can  now  understand  what  Brain- 
erd  means  by  his  strong  expressions  of  devotion  to  God  in  all  cir- 
cumstances, whether  in  life  or  death."  Soon  after  she  said,  "  I 
wish  you  this  afternoon  to  take  a  pen   and  ink,  and  I  will  dictate  a 


MRS.     SUSAN     POOR.  509 

few  lines  to  my  dear  Harriet,*  that  she  may  know  how  bountifully 
the  Lord  hath  dealt  with  me  at  the  last,  in  this  dark  land."  Some 
time  before  this  she  observed,  "  Draw  near,  ye  that  fear  the  Lord, 
and  I  will  declare  what  he  hath  done  for  my  soul."  She  several 
times  spoke  of  two  bright  views,  which  she  had  in  the  forenoon,  and 
which  she  wished  me  to  relate.  At  this  time,  i.  e.  on  Sabbath 
noon,  our  hopes  of  her  recovery  were  stronger  than  they  had  been 
for  nine  days  previously.  The  tone  of  her  stomach,  the  disordered 
state  of  which  had  been  one  principal  cause  of  her  sufferings,  was 
so  far  restored  to  its  natural  state,  that  she  ate  with  good  relish  a 
piece  of  roasted  mutton. 

I  am  here  reminded  of  some  observations  she  made  after  we  be- 
gan to  indulge  more  favorable  hopes  concerning  her.  "  I  think," 
said  she  "  I  may  have  occasion  to  say  Benoni,  before  I  depart ;  and 
the  Lord  appears  to  be  saying,  "  Arise  and  eat,  because  the  journey 
is  too  great  for  thee."     (See  Gen.  xxxv.  18,  and  1  Kings  xix.  4 — 8.) 

As  brother  Richards  was  about  to  take  leave  of  us,  some  unfa- 
vorable symptoms  appeared  in  Mrs.  P.'s  case.  It  was  soon  evident 
that  our  fears  were  well  founded.  Such  was  the  nature  of  her  case, 
that  we  were  obliged  to  consider  her  present  symptoms  a  sure  prelude 
to  a  speedy  departure.  On  being  told,  that  she  could  expect  to  con- 
tinue but  a  few  hours,  it  was  evident  the  information  afforded  her 
much  pleasure.  She  appeared  to  gird  on  anew  the  armor  of  God, 
and  to  put  herself  in  a  waiting  posture  for  the  coming  of  her  Lord. 
At  intervals  she  conversed  with  freedom.  In  her  observations  she 
manifested  a  great  degree  of  tenderness  and  affection  for  those  around 
her.  When  speaking  with  me  of  the  many  worldly  cares  in  which  1 
might  be  involved  after  her  decease,  she  quieted  herself  by  saying, 
"  But  I  think  you  will  not  be  called  to  leave  the  preaching  of  the 
Gospel  to  serve  tables.  The  Lord  will,  I  trust,  raise  up  some 
deacon  to  relieve  you."  As  she  had  made  it  one  principal  object  of 
her  life,  to  stand  between  me  and  those  cares  which  did  not  imme- 
diately relate  to  giving  instruction  to  the  people,  she  well  knew  how 
great  was  the  burden  which  would  devolve  upon  me  in  consequence 
of  her  departure.  The  success  of  the  Gospel  among  the  heathen 
was  a  subject  which  continued  to  engage  her  attention  with  much  in- 
terest. She  several  times  observed,  that  as  she  had  something  fur- 
ther to  say,  which  might  affect  our  mission,  she  hoped  to  continue 
another  day.  She  expressed  a  wish  to  see  the  brethren  and  sisters 
once  more,  especially  some  of  those  who  had  not  been  able  to  be 
with  her  during  her  sickness.  Her  whole  appearance  was  very  dif- 
ferent from  what  it  had  been  before  on  such  occasions. 


*  Mrs.   Putnam,  wife  of  Rev.  J.  W.  Putnam   of  Portsmouth.     This  lady   died 
he  triumph  of  Christian  faith,  in  the  summer  of  1832. 


610  MEMOIRS   OF 

About  nine  o'clock,  the  brethren,  Scudder  and  Winslow,  came. 
Between  one  and  two  o'clock  on  Monday  morn,  after  Mrs.  Poor  had 
slept  a  short  time,  we  made  several  unsuccessful  attempts  to  arouse 
her.  From  her  manner  of  breathing,  we  thought  she  must  soon 
sleep  the  sleep  of  death.  After  we  succeeded  in  awaking  her,  she 
appeared  to  have  something  of  great  importance  to  communicate  to 
to  us.  She  spoke,  as  nearly  as  can  be  recollected,  in  the  following 
manner  : — "  Brother  Richards,  you  have  been  very  near  the  eternal 
world ;  but  not  so  near  as  I  have.  I  know  things  which  none  of 
you  know.  I  do  think  I  shall  not  depart  till  I  have  been  permit- 
ted to  relate  what  I  have  seen.  Mr.  Tennent  was  permitted  to  do 
this.  The  Apostle  Paul  also  ;  whether  in  the  body  or  out,  I  know 
not.  Who  are  present  to  be  the  witnesses  of  what  I  relate  ?"  She 
then  requested  us  to  call  over  the  names  of  those  present.  She  at 
the  same  time  noticed  how  many  there  were,  and  wished  to  know 
who  of  our  number  were  absent.  It  appeared  from  some  of  her 
remarks  at  this  time,  that  her  mind  was  in  a  wandering  state.  When 
however,  she  was  by  any  means  diverted  from  this  subject,  she 
would  immediately  return  to  it  again  with  interest.  She  several 
times,  requested,  that  we  would  bring  a  pen  and  ink ;  but  we  as- 
sured her  we  could  well  remember  all  she  had  to  say.  After  speak- 
ing for  sometime  on  the  subject  in  an  incoherent  manner,  respecting 
some  things  before  mentioned,  she  observed  with  much  emphasis, — 
"  but  I  must  go  on  to  relate  : — and  first,  there  is  an  immortal  state." 
She  repeated  this  several  times  ;  but  appearing  to  find  it  extremely 
difficult  to  confine  her  thoughts  on  any  subject,  she  soon  fell  asleep. 

A  few  hours  after  this  she  was  more  wakeful,  more  restless  in 
body,  and  less  in  possession  of  her  reason.  She  had,  however,  sev- 
eral short  seasons  of  quietude,  in  which  she  expressed  her  confidence 
in  Christ,  and  requested  to  join  with  us  in  prayer. 

As  we  stood  watching  her  symptoms, — "  a  steward,  "said  she, 
"  should  be  just  in  small  matters,  as  well  in  those  of  more  import- 
ance." She  then  called  for  some  cloth  which  had  been  recently 
purchased,  and  told  what  part  she  had  charged  to  the  boarding 
school,  and  what  to  the  lamily.  She  also  made  a  present  of  cloth 
to  a  native  female  servant,  who  had  faithfully  attended  her  in  her 
sickness. 

As  she  lay  quietly  upon  her  bed,  she  suddenly  exclaimed,  "  The 
tempter  is  here  !  I  feel  that  he  is  here  !"  I  told  her  we  would 
unite  in  prayer,  and  that  he  would  flee  at  the  name  of  Jesus.  Many 
times  during  her  sickness  she  spoke  of  the  importance  of  praying 
against  the  intrusion  of  the  tempter ;  not  that  she  feared  being  over- 
come by  him  ;  but  because  he  suggested  sinful  thoughts  to  her  mind. 

While  we  were  engaged  in  prayer  at  this  time,  she  broke  out  with 
a  triumphant  tone  of  voice,  "  Glory  be  to  God  the  Father, — to  God 
—the  Father,— to  God  the  Holy  Ghost !"  She  then  lay  quiet  for 
some  minutes  and  said  again..  "  the  tempter  is  here  !"     We  again 


MRS.     SUSAN    POOR-  511 

united  in  prayer,  but  soon  found,  that  she  was  unable  to  speak  or  to 
hear  what  we  said  to  her.  She  breathed  shorter  and  shorter,  and  in 
the  course  of  fifteen  minutes  quietly  fell  asleep  in  Jesus.  This 
event  took  place  on  the  7th  of  May,  a  kw  minutes  before  seven 
o'clock,  A.  M. 

At  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  we  interred  her  remains  in  a  spot  of 
ground  near  the  church.  The  missionaries  in  the  district,  who  had 
assembled  at  Batticotta  to  observe  the  monthly  prayer  meeting,  were 
present  at  the  funeral.  On  the  following  Monday  evening,  brother 
Chater  preached  an  occasional  sermon  at  Jaffna,  in  the  Wesleyan 
Chapel,  from  Psalm  cxvi,  15. .  Precious  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord 
is  the  death  of  his  saints. 

From  the  Missionary  Herald,  Vol.  18.— 1822. 


512 


MRS.  ELIZABETH  DOLiSON. 


Elizabeth  Ridley,  (this  was  her  maiden  name)  was  born  of 
respectable  parents  in  Detroit,  1st  of  January  1785.  Her  father 
was  an  English  merchant,  but  dying  when  Elizabeth  was  young,  the 
care  of  her  education  devolved  on  her  mother,  who  being  a  mem- 
ber of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church,  took  much  pains  to  have  the 
mind  of  her  daughter  early  imbued  with  the  tenets  of  that  church. 
At  this  period,  and  for  a  long  time  after,  the  inhabitants  of  the  De- 
troit country  (then  principally  French)  had  no  means  of  religious  in- 
struction, except  from  the  Romish  clergy,  who  had  taken  very  little 
pains  to  cultivate  even  the  lower  branches  of  literature  among  the 
people  of  their  charge.  The  consequence  was  that  great  ignorance 
prevailed,  so  that  very  few  of  the  common  people  knew  any  thing 
about  reading.  A  happy  exception  it  was  Elizabeth's  good  fortune 
to  enjoy,  for  she  was  taught  to  read,  and  the  fluency  which  she  ac- 
quired in  reading  the  French  marked  her  superior  genius,  and  which 
with  other  circumstances  of  improvement,  shewed  her  possessed  of 
a  capacity  beyond  the  ordinary  children  of  her  age. 

She  remained  in  the  belief  and  practice  of  all  the  tenets  of  the 
Roman  Catholic  religion  till  the  age  of  fifteen,  when  she  was  married 
to  John  Dolson,  Esq.  and  settled  on  the  river  Thames,  where  she 
spent  the  remainder  of  her  life.  After  her  marriage  she  was  in- 
structed by  her  husband  to  read  the  English,  which  gave  her  access 
to  the  Bible ;  and  in  which  she  took  much  delight.  As  she  read 
the  word  of  God  she  compared  with  it  the  articles  of  her  faith,  and 
was  surprised  to  find  that  the  bible  seemed  to  condemn  some  of 
them. 

As  she  took  a  deliberate  and  leisurely  review  of  the  articles  of  her 
faith,  she  became  more  and  more  convinced  that  some  of  them  were 
inconsistent  with  the  word  of  God,  and  with  sound  reason.  The 
first  of  which  she  doubted  was  the  practice  of  praying  to  saints  and 
angels.  These  she  thought  are  created  beings  as  well  as  ourselves,  and 
are  principally  employed  around  the  throne  of  God.  Their  knowl- 
edge therefore  must  be  principally  of  a  heavenly  nature.  How  then 
shall  I  know  that  any  of  them  are  acquainted  with  my  wants.  If, 
indeed,  God  please  to  send  them  to  minister  to  his  saints  on  earth, 
how  shall  I  know  which  of  them  to  pray  to,  unless  1  may  know  which 
of  them  is  commissioned  to  minister  unto  me  ?  but  this  is  no  where 
revealed  !  but  if  I  knew  this,  is  it  not  God  alone  "  from  whom  com- 
eth  every  good  and  perfect  gift,"  "  and  there  is  but  one  God,  and 
but  one  mediator  between  God  and  men."  Thus  she  thought,  and 
thus  she  reasoned  in  her  inquiries  after  the  great  truths  of  her  salvation . 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    DOLSON.  513 

In  the  bible  she  also  read  this  awful  prohibition,  "  thou  shalt  not 
make  unto  thee  any  graven  image," — "  thou  shalt  not  bow  down 
thyself  to  them,  nor  serve  them,  for  J,  the  Lord  thy  God,  am  a  jeal- 
out  God."     Exodus  xx.  5,  6. 

But  notwithstanding  the  discovery  of  these  errors  in  her  church  of 
praying  to  saints  and  angels,  and  bowing  down  to  images,  yet  she 
had  no  idea  of  leaving  the  communion  in  which  she  had  been  raised, 
for  she  had  strong  prejudices  against  every  system  but  the  Roman 
Catholic.  Such  was  the  sanctity  which  she  attached  to  the  name 
that  she  thought  every  thing  else  in  religion  must  be  wrong ;  not 
considering  that  it  was  truth,  and  not  the  outward  appearance  or 
name  that  unfolds  the  kingdom  of  Christ  to  the  believer.  Indeed, 
when  the  force  of  education  is  considered,  this  is  not  to  be  wondered 
at. — Even  the  apostles  of  our  Lord  were  so  prepossessed  in  favor 
of  the  errors  prevailing  among  the  Jews,  that  Christ's  kingdom  was 
to  be  a  temporal  one,  that  it  was  not  till  after  his  resurrection,  that 
they  understood  that  his  kingdom  cometh  not  with  observation  (in 
outward  appearance)  but  that  it  would  be  established  in  the  power  of 
the  Spirit,  producing  "  righteousness.,  peace  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghost."  Mrs.  Dolson,  however,  as  yet  enjoyed  no  means  by  which 
her  prejudices  might  be  removed.  For  though  the  settlement  on  the 
river  Thames  was  made  soon  after  the  American  Revolution,  and 
consisted  principally  of  English  inhabitants,  yet  it  was  more  than 
twenty  years  before  any  religious  society  was  formed,  and  but  rarely 
that  the  people  had  the  opportunity  of  hearing  a  protestant  ser- 
mon.— The  consequence  was  that  a  careless  indifference  about  all 
religion  was  manifest  throughout  the  settlement,  and  few  if  any  in 
the  acquaintance  of  Mrs.  Dolson  knew  any  thing  of  experimental 
religion.  The  deep  depravity  of  the  heart — and  consequently  the 
importance  of  the  new  birth — justification  by  faith  in  the  atonement 
made  by  Jesus  Christ — a  sense  of  pardon  by  the  witness  of  the  Spi- 
rit— the  consolations  of  the  Holy  Comforter,  and  victory  over  sin 
and  the  fear  of  death. — These  precious  truths  and  privileges  of  the 
gospel  she  had  never  heard  properly  stated  and  enforced.  Doubting 
many  things  in  the  system  of  her  own  religion,  and  being  dissatisfied 
with  her  own  state,  she  was  at  times  greatly  troubled,  and  related 
the  trials  of  her  mind  to  her  husband,  adding,  "  if  I  am  wrong,  I 
hope  God  will  by  some  providential  event,  shew  me  my  errors  and 
the  way  to  amend." 

I  must  here  be  indulged  in  a  little  digression,  that  the  reader  may 
perceive  that  God  is  not  unmindful  of  those  who  sincerely  desire  to 
know  him,  and  the  way  which  the  great  shepherd  takes  to  lead  the 
sincere  inquirer  to  his  own  fold. 

The  destitute  state  of  Canada  had  twenty  years  before,  excited 
the  attention  and  Christian  sympathy,  of  the  New  York  Conference, 
and  missionaries  had  been  sent  out  by  Bishop  Asbury  into  almost  all 
the  settlements  in  the  Upper  Province ;  but  from  its  remote  and  isu- 

65 


514  MEMOIRS    OF 

lated  situation  (being  nearly  eight  hundred  miles  from  New  York, 
and  separated  by  a  wilderness  from  any  other  settlement)  this  part 
of  the  country  remained  unsupplied,  though  for  years  several  of  our 
preachers  nad  felt  the  spiritual  interest  of  this  people  deeply  im- 
pressed on  their  minds.  At  length,  such  was  the  concern  felt  by  a 
Methodist  preacher  for  the  salvation  of  these  people,  that  in  the  spring 
of  1809*  he  wrote  Bishop  Asbury  on  the  state  of  the  country,  and 
offered  his  services  at  the  ensuing  conference.  Accordingly,  at  the 
New  York  conference  in  May,  he  was  appointed  as  a  missionary  to 
the  Detroit  country.  He  arrived  on  this  river  in  July  1809.  At 
first  he  had  little  hopes  of  success,  for  in  traveling  through  the  set- 
tlements he  found  that  great  ignorance  of  the  nature  of  religion  per- 
vaded all  ranks,  and  in  some  places  the  greatest  immoralities  were 
practised.  A  view  of  these  things  afforded  but  a  gloomy  prospect, 
and  the  heart  of  the  missionary  was  greatly  affected  with  the  moral 
condition  of  the  people.  Prejudices  too  had  been  formed  by  va- 
rious false  reports  unfavorable  to  the  methodists,  so  that  in  the  com- 
mencement he  had  no  small  difficulties  to  encounter.  But  by  a  pa- 
tient perseverance  in  duty,  and  by  a  conciliatory  address,  prejudices 
gave  way,  and  the  friendship  and  affection  of  the  people  generally 
were  gained.  Mrs.  Dolson,  however,  with  some  others,  remained 
prejudiced  against  the  methodists,  and  she  supposed  it  wrong  (from 
the  reports  she  had  heard)  to  shew  them  any  countenance.  At 
length  she  was  prevailed  upon  to  hear  for  herself.  The  doctrine  of 
the  preacher  she  could  not  but  assent  to :  it  was  the  language  of 
scripture,  and  the  advice  was  suited  to  her  case.  From  this  time  her 
prejudices  gave  way,  she  became  more  and  more  alarmed  at  her 
sinfulness.  Her  awakened  mind  now  felt  the  importance  of  this 
question,  and  the  inquiry  became  her  own,  "  what  shall  I  do  to  be 
saved  ?"  this  question  was  soon  solved,  Jesus  Christ  was  set  forth 
as  the  only  mediator,  and  as  one  altogether  willing  and  able  to  save 
to  the  uttermost.  Having  given  up  the  mediation  of  saints  and  an- 
gels, she  now  began  earnestly  to  pray  to  God  for  his  mercy  through 
Jesus  Christ  who  died  for  sinners.  She  did  not  long  mourn  for  him 
who  was  waiting  to  be  gracious.  She  was  soon  enabled  to  cast  her 
burden  on  the  Lord.  In  his  all  sufficiency  to  save  from  guilt  and 
sin,  she  found  that  "  peace  which  is  like  a  river,"  and  her  joy  in  the 
Holy  Ghost  became  unspeakable.  Thus,  notwithstanding  the  strong 
prejudices  she  had  imbibed,  the  impressions  which  the  first  discourse 
made  upon  her  mind  were  lasting  and  led  to  a  happy  conversion. 


*  This  writer  is  under  a  mistake  in  respect  to  the  time  when  this  settlement  was 
first  visited  by  a  Methodist  missionary.  In  1805,  four  years  previous  to  the  time 
when  the  missionary  above  referred  to  went  there,  a  Methodist  preacher  under  the 
sanction  of  Bishop  Asbury,  volunteered  his  services,  and  actually  visited  that  settle- 
ment; and  he  continued  with  them  about  four  months,  faithfully  preaching  in  every 
town  and  neighborhood  where  the  English  language  was  spoken  and  with  no  little 
satisfaction  to  himself  and  profit  to  the  people. — Editor  of  Meth.  Magazine. 


MRS.    ELIZABETH.   DOLSON.  515 

She  now  remembered  her  former  desire  and  prayer  that  God  would 
show  her  all  her  errors,  and  lead  her  into  the  way  of  truth.  She  be- 
lieved her  petitions  were  answered,  and  that  her  heavenly  father 
would  now  guide  her  in  a  scriptural  and  consistent  way  of  serving 
Him.  After  her  conversion  the  bible  became  her  closet  companion, 
and  she  read  the  blessed  truths  of  her  salvation  with  tears  of  grati- 
tude and  joy. 

The  change  which  was  wrought  on  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Dolson  was 
remarkably  manifest  in  her  whole  deportment.  Her  conscientious 
observance  of  all  the  duties  of  religion — the  advances  she  made  in 
christian  experience,  as  well  as  the  Christian  benevolence  she  always 
shewed  towards  the  poor  and  the  suffering,  were  highly  creditable  to 
religion,  and  tended  much  to  establish  and  confirm  the  truths  of  the 
gospel  among  her  neighbors  and  friends.  After  her  conversion  she 
began  to  prove  the  truth  of  our  Savior's  words  to  his  disciples,  "  in 
the  world  ye  shall  have  tribulation,"  but  she  endured  as  seeing  him 
who  is  invisible,   and  at  last  overcame  with  a  triumphant  victory. 

Soon  after  her  conversion,  she  wrote  to  her  priest  the  reasons  of 
her  change,  and  requested  a  formal  dismission  from  the  church. 
This  she  never  obtained ;  but  it  produced  considerable  excitement 
among  some  of  her  Roman  Catholic  friends,  especially  after  she  be- 
came a  member  of  the  Methodist  church.  The  part  she  had  taken 
in  "  changing  her  religion,"  as  they  termed  it,  roused  their  displea- 
sure, and  very  considerably  influenced  their  conduct  towards  her. 
This  new  and  unexpected  scene  was  the  cause  of  much  grief  and 
trial  to  her  mind.  Being  a  person  of  amiable  disposition  and  agree- 
able manners,  she  had  been  always  greatly  esteemed  and  caressed 
by  her  friends  ;  but  now  their  countenances  and  words  were  changed 
and  the  treatment  she  received  was  the  occasion  of  many  tears. 
The  opposition  which  was  shewn  her,  however,  was  not  altogether 
from  her  Romish  friends.  Whether  in  Papist  or  in  Protestant  the 
carnal  mind  is  enmity,  as  other  endeavors  were  made  not  only  to 
destroy  her  influence  in  religion  generally,  but  they  even  endeavored 
to  lessen  her  in  the  estimation  of  her  affectionate  husband.  Happy 
indeed  for  the  peace  of  the  family,  this  artful  device  proved  unsuc- 
cessful. He  perceived  the  grounds  of  their  wicked  devices,  and  he 
repelled  with  suitable  indignation  their  malicious  insinuations.  These 
painful  circumstances,  instead  of  discouraging,  seemed  to  strengthen 
her  resolution.  She  saw  with  deep  concern  the  influence  which  big- 
otry has  over  the  benighted  mind,  and  she  fled  with  horror  from  the 
spirit  of  violence  to  the  religion  of  Jesus,  whose  kingdom  is  righteous- 
ness and  peace.  The  more  opposition  raged  against  her,  the  more 
she  was  invigorated  to  pursue  the  blessed  cause  she  had  espoused ; 
and  she  has  often  since  remarked  that  some  of  the  sweetest  mo- 
ments in  her  religious  experience  were  in  the  midst  of  this  oppo- 
sition and  abuse.  Being  persecuted  for  righteousness'  sake,  she 
could  flee  for  support   to  the  promises.     "  If  ye   be  reproached  for 


516  MEMOIRS  OF 

the  name  of  Christ,  happy  are  ye ;  for  the  spirit  of  glory  and  of 
God  resteth  upon  you  :  on  their  part  he  is  evil  spoken  of,  but  on  your 
part  he  is  glorified."  1  Peter  iv.  14.  The  society  to  which  Mrs. 
Dolson  had  united  herself,  as  yet,  was  but  small  and  by  some  few 
who  appeared  to  desire  its  downfall,  it  became  an  object  of  ridicule 
and  even  of  prophecy.  It  was  confidently  predicted  that  the  metho- 
dists  there  would,  like  a  morning  cloud,  soon  pass  away.  But  acting 
from  principle,  she  was  not  discouraged  by  such  predictions ;  she 
took  no  anxious  thought  for  the  morrow,  trusting  that  he  who  had 
begun  this  good  work  would  not  suffer  his  people  to  be  confounded, 
but  would  carry  it  on  to  the  day  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  more  posi- 
tively it  was  asserted  that  the  society  would  fall,  the  more  ardently 
did  they  beseech  God  for  its  prosperity  and  extension.  And  she 
lived  to  witness  the  gospel  spreading  its  delightful  influence  on  the 
Thames  and  neighboring  settlements.  The  spirit  of  prayer  and  sup- 
plication, and  of  awakening,  was  poured  out  on  the  people  ;  many 
were  added  to  the  society,  and  walking  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord,  and 
the  comforts  of  the  Holy  Ghost,   were  multiplied. 

In  April,  1818,  a  pulmonary  consumption,  of  which  she  died, 
began  to  produce  its  symptoms.  It  was  soon  found  to  be  too  deeply 
seated  to  be  removed.  But  though  feeble  she  still  attended  the  sick 
and  the  place  of  worship.  This  she  continued  to  do  till  July,  when 
she  was  confined  to  her  house.  Having  derived  much  spiritual  com- 
fort from  the  public  ministry  of  the  word,  and  being  greatly  united 
in  affection  to  the  society,  it  was  not  without  a  struggle  in  her  mind, 
that  she  could  deny  herself  the  privilege  of  meeting  with  her  breth- 
ren for  the  worship  of  God. — The  last  time  she  met  with  them,  she 
seemed  confident  she  should  enjoy  their  society  no  more  in  that 
place,  and  the  parting  was  with  much  weeping.  Their  union  having 
been  formed  in  Christ — the  sacrifices  which  she  had  made  for  the 
sake  of  christian  society,  together  with  the  crosses  they  had  borne  to- 
gether for  the  sake  of  Christ,  had  very  much  endeared  them  to  each 
other,  so  that  the  parting  was  both  painful  and  afflicting.  During 
her  confinement  she  was  placed  in  circumstances  calculated  further 
to  prove  the  solidity  of  her  christian  experience.  It  was  the  divine 
pleasure  that  she  should  enter  the  kingdom  through  much  tribulation. 
She  suffered  considerably  from  the  nature  of  her  complaint ;  and  at 
times,  in  mind  by  powerful  temptations.  But  as  often  as  she  was 
assaulted,  she  called  on  God  in  prayer,  when  he  was  pleased  power- 
fully to  deliver  her  mind,  by  which  blessed  manifestations  of  love 
her  faith  was  strengthened,,  and  her  consolations  increased  in  sweet 
and  heavenly  foretastes  of  everlasting  joys  to  come. 

In  these  hours  of  conflict,  her  knowledge  of  the  holy  scriptures 
was  of  unspeakable  satisfaction  to  her  mind.  In  this  sacred  volume 
she  found  inexhaustible  sources  of  truth  suited  to  her  every  circum- 
stance of  warfare  and  conquest — of  affliction  and  comfort — of  life, 
death  and  immortality.     At  one  time   while  in  much  pain  she  was 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    DOLSON.  517 

disappointed  that  some  christian  friends  did  not  visit  her  as  she  was 
expecting,  and  being  very  weak,  she  was  tempted  to  think  that  they 
neglected  or  had  forgotten  her,  on  which  account  she  became  uneasy 
and  wept  considerably.  At  length  these  words  were  applied  with 
great  sweetness  to  her,  "  cast  all  your  care  on  him,  for  he  careth 
for  you."  She  called  for  the  bible,  and  when  the  words  were  found 
and  read,  she  was  greatly  comforted.  Her  mind  was  much  employ- 
ed in  meditating  on  the  truths  of  the  gospel,  and  she  would  some- 
times sweetly  expatiate  on  the  peculiar  care  which  God  in  his  provi- 
dence had  shewn  towards  her  from  her  infancy.  Various  instances 
she  mentioned  as  that  of  his  protection  in  dangers — that  of  her  hap- 
py marriage  and  other  providences  which  led  to,  and  were  made  the 
means  of  her  conversion  :  sometimes  while  in  much  pain,  she  would 
exclaim,  "  what  should  I  now  do  if  it  were  not  for  the  blessed  promi- 
ses of  the  gospel." 

While  Mrs.  Dolson  was  in  health,  she  was  attentive  to  the  ordi- 
nances of  the  gospel ;  she  could  not  understand  how  professors  could 
expect  to  advance  in  the  knowledge  of  Christ  without  attending  to 
his  plain  commands.  So  when  she  became  too  feeble  to  attend  the 
usual  meetings,  by  request  of  her  husband,  meetings  were  held  in 
her  room.  The  writer  frequently  attended,  and  at  times  administer- 
ed to  her  the  Lord's  Supper.  On  these  occasions  she  was  much 
affected  at  the  remembrance  of  her  Savior's  sufferings,  and  grati- 
tude and  love  seemed  frequently  and  fervently  to  flow  from  both 
heart  and  tongue. 

After  suffering  in  her  complaint  for  near  sixteen  months,  the  symp- 
toms of  approaching  death  began  to  appear,  and  failing  fast,  her 
pious  friends  began  to  be  apprehensive  that  she  might  not  have 
strength  in  her  last  moments  to  bear  a  testimony  to  the  power  of  re- 
ligion. They  therefore  united  in  prayer  to  the  God  of  all  grace, 
beseeching  that  for  the  honor  of  his  cause,  he  would  grant  to  his  dy- 
ing handmaid,  the  use  of  her  reason  and  strength  to  declare  his  lov- 
ing kindness  in  death.  Accordingly  a  little  before  she  expired,  she 
revived  as  from  the  shades  of  death,  and  spoke  in  such  an  impress- 
ive and  melting  manner  as  greatly  affected  all  who  were  present. 
After  a  weighty  charge  to  her  friends,  then  to  her  family,  she  added. 
"  I  have  not  served  God  for  nought.  He  is  faithful  to  his  promises  ; 
and  now  I  do  not  repent  any  sacrifice  I  have  made  for  him  and  his 
service."  Having  thus  finished  her  last  advice  to  her  friends,  she 
desired  for  the  last  time  to  commemorate,  in  the  Holy  communion, 
the  sufferings  of  her  Savior.  Her  minister  attended  on  the  occa- 
sion, but  she  was  so  much  exhausted  by  her  late  exhortations,  that 
some  time  passed  before  she  recovered  strength  to  receive  the  sacra- 
mental bread.  After  performing  this  service,  her  husband  came 
near,  and  she  very  gratefully  acknowledged  the  kind  attention  which 
he  had  always  shewn  her ;  as  their  union  had  been  marked  by  ex- 
traordinary attachment,  so  the  last  parting  was  extremely  affecting, 


518  MEMOlRSj    SlC. 

being  rendered  more  so  by  these  expressions  of  grateful  endear- 
ment in  a  dying  partner.  She  enjoyed  her  reason  for  the  few  re- 
maining minutes  of  her  life,  and  she  spent  them  in  mingled  express- 
ions of  prayer  and  praise,  frequently  repeating  these  words,  "  bless- 
ed Jesus !  blessed  Jesus  !"  Her  last  words  were  "  come,  Lord  Je- 
sus, come  !"    and  ceased  to  breathe  the  26th  of  August,  1819. 

Thus  lived,  and  thus  died  our  beloved  sister,  Elizabeth  Dolson, 
an  ornament  to  the  christian  character.  Her  death  was  a  loss  to  the 
church,  especially  in  her  neighborhood.     But 

"  Hosanna  to  Jesus  on  high, 

Another  has  enter'd  his  rest ; 
Another  has  'scap'd  to  the  sky, 

And  lodged  in  Immanuel's  breast. 
The  soul  of  our  sister  is  gone, 

To  heighten  the  triumphs  above ; 
Exalted  to  Jesus's  throne, 

And  clasp'd  in  the  arms  of  his  love." 

Many  were  her  excellencies,  but  those  which  are  an  example  to 
her  sex,   should  not  be  forgotten. 

Her  conversation,  though  familiar,  was  conducted  with  reserve. 
She  considered  it  a  crime  to  remain  in  company  where  slander  was 
served  up  for  the  entertainment  of  the  guest,  and  though  pleasant, 
her  words  shewed  that  her  sentiments  w7ere  formed  before  they  were 
expressed.  In  the  economy  of  her  house  she  was  also  a  valuable 
pattern.  As  contentment  and  peace  were, her  companions  in  her  do- 
mestic circle,  so  she  seldom  left  it  without  a  call  from  duty.  Em- 
ploying her  time  in  the  care  of  her  family,  instances  of  industry  arid 
economy  were  seen  in  every  department  of  her  house.  Thus  hap- 
pily avoiding  that  confusion,  for  "  want  of  time"  of  which  the  indo- 
lent and  frequent  visitor  is  heard  to  complain.  By  diligence  in  bu- 
siness also  she  redeemed  the  more  time  for  purposes  of  religion,  as 
that  of  visiting  and  ministering  to  the  sick  of  her  neighborhood,  as 
well  as  attending  the  common  and  special  means  of  grace.  In  a 
word  it  might  be  said  of  her,  "  she  layeth  her  hands  to  the  spindle, 
and  her  hands  hold  the  distaff.  She  stretcheth  out  her  hand  to  the 
poor,  yea,  she  reacheth  forth  her  hands  to  the  needy.  She  open- 
eth  her  mouth  with  wisdom ;  and  in  her  tongue  is  the  law  of  kind- 
ness. She  looketh  well  to  the  ways  of  her  household,  and  eateth  not 
the  bread  of  idleness.  Give  her  of  the  fruits  of  her  hands ;  and  let 
her  own  works  praise  her  in  her  gates."     Prov.  xxxi. 

From  the  Methodist  Magazine,  Vol.  4.— 1820, 


519 


MRS.   SALLY  AGAR)), 


Sally  Agard  was  the  daughter  of  John  and  Lowly  Stone,  of 
Litchfield,  Connecticut,  and  was  born  Sept.  25,  1785.  She  was 
blest  with  a  religious  education,  and  was  much  respected  by  her  ac- 
quaintance. She  gave,  however,  no  evidence  of  religious  impress- 
ions, which  were  lasting,  until  July  1,  1808,  when  she  attended  a 
camp-meeting  in  Sharon,  Connecticut.  Though  led  to  this  place 
merely  from  curiosity}  it  proved  the  means  of  her  conversion.  The 
morning  after  the  meeting  commenced,  she  was  persuaded  by  her 
pious  sister  to  join  in  a  prayer-meeting.  Here  the  Spirit  of  the 
Lord  so  operated  upon  her  heart,  that,  under  a  sense  of  condemna- 
tion, she  cried  aloud  to  God  for  mercy,  while  others  were  engaged 
in  ardent  intercessions  at  the  throne  of  grace  on  her  behalf.  In  a 
few  hours  her  soul  was  delivered  from  the  burden  of  guilt,  and  she 
was  enabled  to  rejoice  in  God  her  Savior.  On  her  return  home, 
she  freely  declared  what  God  had  done  for  her  soul,  thus,  "  with 
the  mouth  making  confession  unto  salvation."  Soon  after  she  joined 
the  Methodist  Church,  of  which  she  proved  a  worthy  member. 

About  this  time  her  health  began  to  decline.  She  continued 
steadfast  in  the  faith,  and  diligent  in  the  use  of  all  the  means  of 
grace.  At  a  camp-meeting  in  Rhinebeck,  state  of  New  York,  the 
Lord  deepened  His  work  of  grace  in  her  heart,  so  that  her  joy  ap- 
peared to  be  full.     From  this  time  she  seemed  ripening  for  glory. 

In  November  following,  according  to  a  previous  engagement,  she 
was  married  to  Mr.  Samuel  Agard,  of  Catharine,  New  York,  to 
which  place  she  was  shortly  removed.  She  was  now  called  to  ex- 
emplify the  Christian  principles  and  character,  in  a  new  relation  of 
life;  and,  as  her  husband  did  not  profess  experimental  godliness,  she 
had  to  encounter  trials  of  a  new  kind  ;  but  her  trust  was  in  God,  to 
whom  she  cleaved  with  full  purpose  of  heart,  and  was  accordingly 
abundantly  supported  and  comforted.  It  ought,  however,  to  be  ob- 
served, that  notwithstanding  Mr.  Agard  did  not  enjoy  religion,  he 
manifested  a  regard  for  it,  and  assisted  his  wife  in  attending  upon 
the  stated  ordinances  of  God ;  but,  in  consequence  of  ill  health,  and 
other  reasons,  she  was,  in  some  measure,  prevented  from  enjoying 
those  privileges  as  often  as  she  wished.  She,  nevertheles,  was 
faithful  in  her  private  devotions,  and  in  discharging  the  various  du- 
ties of  life.     In  this  she  enjoyed  consolation. 

Feeling  much  for  the  moral  and  eternal  state  of  her  unconverted 
husband,  she  was  excited  to  pray  often  for  his  salvation.  She  fre- 
quently told  him,  that  if  any  thing  made  her  desire  to  live,  it  was  to 


520  MEMOIRS  OF 

see  him  happy  in  the  love  of  God.     For  this,  therefore,  she  ardent- 
ly prayed,  and  her  prayers  were  finally  answered. 

The  disease  with  which  she  was  afflicted,  the  consumption,  caused 
her  to  suffer  much  pain  and  distress;  but  in  the  midst  of  all,  she 
evidently  increased  in  faith  and  love,  and  was  truly  a  pattern  of 
piety  and  patience.  Her  zeal  for  God,  and  her  activity,  as  far  as 
her  declining  health  would  permit,  in  His  service,  made  her  very 
useful  to  society.  Though  her  bodily  strength  was  much  exhausted, 
on  Sept.  26,  1811,  she,  in  company  with  her  husband,  attended  a 
camp-meeting  which  was  held  in  the  town  where  they  resided. 
Here  she  labored  hard  for  the  salvation  of  souls,  and  great  was  her 
faith  in  God.  Some  remarkable  instances  of  answers  to  her  prayers 
were  witnessed  at  this  memorable  meeting.  Among  others,  I  will 
relate  the  two  following. 

A  young  man  of  her  acquaintance  was  suddenly  convicted  of  sin, 
and  in  anguish  of  soul,  cried  to  God  for  help.  While  in  this  keen 
distress,  many  prayed  for  him,  seemingly  to  no  purpose.  In  the 
mean  time  our  departed  sister  was  earnestly  engaged  in  his  behalf. 
She  at  length  arose  from  her  knees,  and  said,  "  Brethren,  God  has 
given  us  the  victory !"  This  she  repeated  three  times.  In  a  few 
moments,  the  young  man  himself  arose,  and  declared  that  God  had 
given  him  the  remission  of  his  sins.  The  other  was  her  husband  ; 
who,  on  the  last  morning  of  the  meeting,  found  him  of  whom  Moses 
and  the  prophets  did  write.  Although  extremely  weak  in  body,  she 
had  wrestled  in  prayer  for  him  almost  the  whole  night.  The  Lord 
answered  her  importunities,  by  putting  a  new  song  into  his  mouth, 
and  giving  her  the  participation  of  his  joys.  Several  others,  through 
her  instrumentality,  as  they  have  since  acknowledged,  were  power- 
fully awakened  to  a  sense  of  their  lost  condition. 

It  was  now  evident  that  she  was  fast  verging  towards  the  eternal 
world ;  and  she  witnessed  the  silent  approaches  of  death  with  the 
utmost  fortitude  and  calmness,  often  speaking  of  her  approaching 
dissolution  with  Christian  composure,  in  the  full  hope  of  a  blooming 
immortality.  Death,  indeed,  had  no  terrors  for  her.  Her  conver- 
sation was  chiefly  concerning  religion  and  heaven.  A  cheerful  so- 
lemnity was  visible  upon  her  countenance,  and  sweetened  her  society 
to  her  friends  and  acquaintance.  Holiness  was  her  constant  theme. 
It  was  her  motto.  She  often  said  that  her  time  on  earth  was  short. 
The  last  love-feast  she  attended,  she  observed  that  she  should  never 
attend  another.  Though  her  spiritual  conflicts  were  at  times  severe, 
and  thereby  tested  the  genuineness  of  her  faith,  yet  she  triumphed 
in  God  her  Savior  in  the  midst  of  them  all. 

When  suffering  great  pain  and  distress,  she  would  sing, 

"  The  more  my  sufferings  here  increase,' 
The  greater  is  my  future  bliss,"  &c. 

"  So  be  it  then,  if  thou  ordain  ; 
Crown  all  my  happy  life  with  pain, 
And  let  me  daily  die,"  &c. 


MRS.  SALLY  AGARD.  521 

For  three  weeks  before  her  confinement,  she  declined  fast,  and  on 
the  morning  of  that  day  she  assisted  in  preparing  breakfast,  and  then 
observed  it  would  be  the  last  time  she  should  assist  in  that  work, 
which  proved  true ;  for  the  day  following  her  friends  were  alarmed 
by  witnessing  the  blood  issuing  from  her  lungs,  which  so  weakened 
her  as  to  confine  her  to  the  bed.  On  being  asked  if  she  were  willing 
to  die,  she  replied,  "O  yes!"  Her  husband  asked,  if  deprived  of 
her  speech,  what  signal  she  would  give  to  denote  her  happiness  in 
God,  and  prospects  of  glory?  She  said,  "I  will  raise  my  finger." 
Accordingly,  a  short  time  before  her  death,  the  neighbors  being  call- 
ed in  to  witness  her  last  struggle,  being  speechless,  to  their  great  joy 
she  repeated  the  signal  several  times. 

Contrary  to  all  expectation,  her  speech  returned  ;  and  being  in 
an  ecstacy  of  joy,  she  exclaimed  in  rapturous  triumph,  "O  precious 
Jesus!  O  glorious  Redeemer!  O  glory  to  God  !  I  am  going  home! 
I  am  glad  I  have  borne  the  cross,  for  now  I  see  a  crown  of  glory  re- 
served for  me.  O  glory !  glory !  I  am  going.  O  Jesus,  why  do  thy 
chariot  wheels  delay?  He  is  coming!  Come,  Lord  Jesus,  come 
quickly,  and  receive  me  to  thyself.  After  a  few  moments  of  pause, 
she  broke  forth  again  in  lofty  strains,  giving  glory  to  God.  She 
spoke  with  an  audible  voice,  frequently  clapping  her  hands,  saying, 
"  my  joys  are  inexpressible." 

She  then  desired  them  to  send  for  a  family  who  denied  the  power 
of  religion.  When  they  came,  she  addressed  herself  to  one  of  them 
as  follows  : — "  O  Susan — Susan — look  at  me,  and  prepare  to  die  ! 
I  am  happy — Glory  !  glory  !  glory  !  I  am  going  to  my  Jesus !" 
Those  Christian  friends  who  were  present,  rejoiced  from  a  feeling 
sense  of  the  presence  of  God  ;  while  unbelievers  wept,  and  acknowl- 
edged it  must  be  the  power  and  work  of  God. 

From  this  time  she  advanced  rapidly  towards  the  termination  of 
her  mortal  existence;  and  on  Sabbath  morning  they  thought  her  dead, 
and  accordingly  sung,  "Happy  soul,  thy  days  are  ended,"  he.  But 
she  again  revived,  and  exhorted  them  all  to  be  faithful.  Though  they 
watched  her  departing  breath,  and  waited  to  witness  the  flight  of  the 
immortal  spirit  from  its  expiring  partner,  yet  she  said  to  them,  "I  shall 
not  die  to-day;  but  on  Thursday  I  shall  finish  my  work."  Accord- 
ingly on  that  evening  she  closed  her  eyes  in  death,  and  no  doubt  but 
her  ransomed  soul  ascended  to  the  regions  of  the  blessed.  The  text 
which  was  used  as  the  foundation  of  her  funeral  sermon,  will  apply 
to  her,  it  is  thought,  with  great  truth — "  Blessed  are  the  dead,  who 
die  in  the  Lord."     She  ended  her  days  upon  earth  in  her  29th  year. 

From  the  Methodist  Magazine,  Vol.  IV. — 1821. 


66 


522 


MISS  ELIZABETH  FECK* 


The  following  short  account  of  the  conversion  of  Miss  Elizabeth 
Peck,  was  written  by  herself. 

"I  was  born  in  the  town  of  Danbury,  Conn.  July  22,  1792. 
When  I  was  two  years  of  age,  my  parents  removed  to  the  town  of 
Middlefield,  Otsego  county,  N.  Y.  where  I  spent  about  twenty  years 
of  my  life.  Here  I  wasted  the  morning  of  life,  and  experienced  the 
decay  of  youthful  vigor,  through  a  lingering  sickness.  My  parents 
were  religious  and  brought  up  their  children  strictly  moral,  teaching 
them  to  attend  public  worship  at  least  once  a  week,  which  was  the 
means,  under  God,  of  so  enlightening  my  understanding,  that  since 
my  first  remembrance  I  have  been  followed  with  serious  impressions 
relative  to  a  future  state.  Soon  did  I  learn  that  my  happiness  here- 
after depended  on  the  right  use  of  the  means  of  grace  put  into  my 
hands.  I  was  therefore  induced  to  form  many  resolutions  to  become 
pious,  but  would  soon  find  my  resolutions  not  sufficiently  grounded, 
to  withstand  the  allurements  of  the  world  and  the  vanity  of  my  youth- 
ful mind.  For  being  fond  of  gay  company  and  amusements,  my 
heart  was  often  betrayed  into  sin,  which  in  my  moments  of  reflec- 
tion caused  me  to  lament  the  depravity  of  my  heart,  and  the  incon- 
stancy of  my  zeal  for  the  salvation  of  my  soul.  At  the  age  of  six- 
teen I  joined  a  singing  school.  As  I  possessed  a  tolerable  voice 
and  a  great  taste  for  music,  I  made  considerable  proficiency.  But 
though  the  diversion  in  itself  was  innocent  and  improving,  the  gen- 
eral spirit  of  the  company  which  it  introduced  me  into,  was  such  as 
served  to  draw  my  mind  from  serious  things.  But  blessed  be  God 
for  his  awakening  mercy,  which  pursued  me  closely,  and  sometimes 
in  dreams  and  visions  of  the  night.  One  of  which  cannot  be  easily 
erased  from  my  memory.  I  thought  that  one  of  my  companions  at 
school  was  taken  sick  with  the  typhus  fever,  and  I  with  several  oth- 
ers went  to  visit  him.  We  found  him  just  expiring  in  the  most  fright- 
ful appearance,  and  in  all  the  horrors  of  a  guilty  conscience.  This 
awful  scene  so  alarmed  me  that  I  awoke.  The  sensation  was  so 
strongly  impressed  upon  my  mind,  that  I  thought  I  had  taken  the 
fever  from  him,  and  so  fancied  myself  sick.  This,  with  conviction 
for  my  past  disobedience  rolling  upon  me,  so  depressed  my  spirits 
that  I  left  school.  And  so  it  fell  out,  even  as  I  dreamed.  In  a  few 
days  poor  J.  C.  was  violently  seized  with  the  typhus  fever,  which 
in  about  two  weeks  terminated  in  his  death.  A  few  days  before 
which,  I  was  called  to  go  with  some  friends  to  see  him,  I  started  in 
haste  not  thinking  of  my  dream  until  I  opened  the  door.     When  m 


MEMOIRS,    &C.  523 

an  instant  all  the  affair  was  opened  to  my  mind.  I  looked  around 
and  saw  every  circumstance  exactly  as  I  dreamed.  The  weeping 
friends  with  the  departing  son  bereft  of  his  reason,  and  without  hope 
in  Christ.  My  feelings  were  now  harrowed  up  anew.  I  also  took 
the  fever,  and  soon  became  sick  in  reality.  Means  however  were 
blessed  so  that  the  fever  found  a  crisis  before  it  run  to  its  common 
height.  But  oh  !  how  can  I  paint  the  anxiety  of  my  mind.  It  far 
exceeded  my  bodily  distress.  The  desperate  case  of  the  young 
man  was  constantly  before  me.  I  fancied  I  could  see  his  dreadful 
situation  and  hear  him  upbraid  me  in  language  like  this :  'You  have 
Christian  parents  and  every  spiritual  advantage,  but  alas  !  how  stri- 
king the  contrast  between  us !  I  have  been  early  taught  to  make  a 
jest  of  religion,  and  break  the  commands  of  God.  Why  did  you  not 
tell  me  better  ?'  I  was  now  brought  into  a  strait.  I  strove  to  look 
to  God  for  pardoning  mercy ;  but  such  crowds  of  temptations  pres- 
sed me  on  every  hand,  that  I  was  almost  prevented  raising  one  de- 
sire to  heaven.  In  this  state  of  mind  I  continued  for  several  months. 
A  certain  passage  of  scripture  lay  with  much  weight  upon  my  mind. 
'  For  which  of  you  intending  to  build  a  lower  sitteth  not  down  first, 
and  counteth  the  cost  whether  he  be  able  to  finish  it.'  These  words 
were  opened,  and  set  home  to  my  heart.  I  thought  that  a  tower 
must  cost  much  labor,  and  it  would  be  necessary  to  collect  a  suffi- 
cient quantity  of  materials  fit  for  the  purpose,  and  then  to  choose  a 
good  situation  on  a  firm  foundation.  The  application  was  obvious. 
I  found  that  my  mind  was  carnal  and  sold  under  sin.  A  great  work 
lay  before  me,  and  until  it  was  accomplished,  I  should  be  exposed 
to  destruction  from  the  incursions  of  my  enemies.  In  short,  that  I 
must  have  an  interest  in  Christ,  to  the  expense  of  all  my  pride  and 
self-righteousness — That  I  must  be  careful  to  build  on  the  sure  foun- 
dation, or  the  winds  and  the  floods  would  prove  destruction,  and  all 
my  labor  be  in  vain.  Thus  did  I  try  to  count  the  cost.  In  retro- 
specting  my  life  I  found  that  it  had  been  filled  up  with  disappoint- 
ment, and  that  my  master  whom  1  had  served,  had  but  ill  paid  me 
for  all  my  toil  and  pain.  At  length  I  learned  that  a  Camp-meeting 
was  to  be  held  in  the  town  of  Munden  about  ten  miles  distant.  I 
had  heard  much  of  such  meetings,  though  never  witnessed  any  for 
myself.  It  appeared  to  me  that  I  ought  to  attend — that  if  I  did  it 
was  probable  that  I  should  see  or  hear  something  that  would  prove 
a  consolation  to  my  mind.  Accordingly  I  attended  ;  and  found  the 
order  of  the  meeting  good.  The  preaching  and  praying  came  like 
thunder  to  my  soul ;  and  instead  of  wearing  away  the  disease,  seem- 
ed to  make  it  still  more  burdensome  and  afflictive,  until  I  concluded 
that  it  was  high  time  wholly  to  lay  down  the  weapons  of  my  rebell- 
ion, and  venture  upon  Christ,  the  rock  of  my  salvation.  Although 
this  seemed  exceedingly  difficult,  yet  as  nothing  short  could  possi- 
bly save  me  from  the  rage  of  a  guilty  conscience  and  the  wrath  of 
God — trembling,  sick  and  wounded  as  I  was,  being  slain  by  the  law 


524  MEMOIRS  OF 

and  every  way  cut  off — resolving  if  I  must  perish  to  perish  at  the 
feet  of  a  crucified  Savior,  I  plead  :  Gracious  Heaven  !  permit  me, 
even  me  to  approach  thee.  And  in  this  critical  period,  when  my  heart 
labored  under  a  load  intolerable  to  be  borne,  between  hope  and  fear, 
I  raised  my  feeble  heart  if  happily  I  might  see  Jesus  with  a  token  of 
peace.  And  Oh  !  who  can  tell  the  joy  of  my  heart  when  suddenly 
I  viewed  him  by  faith  swaying  the  golden  sceptre  within  my  reach. 
Instead  of  finding  him  at  so  great  a  distance  as  I  imagined,  I  found 
him  near  at  hand,  speaking  peace  to  my  soul ;  saying,  go  in  peace 
and  sin  no  more.  Glory  to  God  for  redeeming  goodness.  My  soul 
exults  in  the  recollection  of  that  triumphant  hour,  when  my  sorrow 
was  turned  into  joy. 

"  Thus  I  continued  praying  and  praising,  until  it  pleased  the  Lord 
to  manifest  his  love  to  me  in  showing  me  the  frailty  of  human  nature, 
by  visiting  me  with  a  lingering  fever,  the  effects  of  which  no  doubt 
will  follow  me  down  to  the  shades  of  the  silent  tomb.  This  affliction, 
I  humbly  trust,  has  measurably  answered  the  design  of  Providence. 
He  who  knows  my  proneness  to  wander,  knows  also  what  would  ter- 
minate in  my  good.  This  state  of  debility  has  served  to  wean  my 
affections  from  this  fading  world,  and  place  them  on  things  heavenly 
and  sublime." 

The  affliction  which  she  mentions  was  a  nervous  fever,  which  left 
her  in  a  state  of  debility,  and  occasioned  a  weakness  of  the  stomach 
of  which  she  never  found  a  radical  cure.  She  spent  one  season  at 
Ballston  springs.  The  use  of  the  water  and  the  warm  bath,  afford- 
ed her  much  relief,  but  did  not  wholly  restore  her  :  yet  she  was  gen- 
erally able  to  attend  to  some  useful  employment,  which  did  not  re- 
quire very  great  exertions.  She  did  not  fail  to  improve  this  affliction 
to  the  best  advantage.  Ever  after  its  commencement  she  let  go  her 
hold  on  the  world,  and  as  she  ceased  to  expect  happiness  from  it,  so 
she  ceased  to  conform  to  its  maxims  and  principles.  She  lived  with 
a  constant  reference  to  the  world  of  spirits.  While  she  enjoyed  in- 
timate communion  with  God,  she  gave  the  fullest  evidence  for  sever- 
al years  that  she  was  a  subject  of  sanctifying  grace,  though  her  deep 
humility  prevented  her  making  many  professions  of  it.  This  grace 
supported  her  under  all  the  troubles  of  life,  and  gave  her  a  pleasing 
hope  of  immortality  in  the  hour  of  death. 

The  earliest  of  her  letters  extant  is  dated  Feb.  2,  1817.  In  this 
she  observes  :  "  You  will  please  pardon  me,  my  dear  brother,  if  I  go 
on  a  little  farther  and  inform  you,  that  while  I  have  been  reviewing 
my  past  reflections,  I  have  not  forgotten  to  apply  a  share  of  them  to 
myself. 

"  I  have  found  by  experience  that  there  is  no  better  way  for  me  to 
live  than  to  be  a  sincere  beggar  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  To  sit  in  the 
dust,  and  if  possible,  get  lower  still  and  learn  of  Christ,  to  be  meek 
and  lowly  in  heart.  I  often  find  my  heart  impressed  with  a  sense 
of  the  danger  of  an  almost  Christian,  and  think  what  a  pity  it  would 


MISS    ELIZABETH    PECK.  525 

be  to  well  nigh  reach  heaven,  and  for  want  of  a  little  more  faith  and 
good  works,  to  be  cast  off.  Oh  !  that  God  would  revive  his  work 
in  my  heart,  and  enable  me  to  be  a  Christian  in  the  fullest  sense  of 
the  word.  I  do  thank  the  Lord  for  the  measure  of  his  Spirit  which 
I  have  enjoyed  of  late.  But  I  still  feel  the  want  of  a  more  intimate 
union  with  God.  I  sigh  in  pain  for  living  bread.  I  long  for  your 
prayers  day  and  night,  that  I  may  be  faithful  to  the  grace  already 
given,  and  happily  meet  you  with  all  the  Israel  of  God  to  praise  him 
to  all  eternity." 

"  November,  1817. 

"  I  shall  now  proceed  to  inform  you  of  my  exercises  on  the  sub- 
ject of  professors  of  religion  viewing  the  world.  I  think  I  never  had 
such  inferior  views  of  what  is  called  the  riches  of  the  world,  as  I 
have  at  present.  I  see  nothing  here  worthy  of  my  affections.  Ev- 
ery thing  I  behold  preaches  loudly  to  me,  saying,  '  Be  diligent  in 
doing  thy  work,  for  ere  long  thou  wilt  be  called  to  thy  long  home.' 
And  considering  the  adversity  through  which  I  am  at  present  and 
shall  continue  to  be  called  to  pass,  I  do  feel  that  if  it  should  please 
God,  it  would  be  far  better  for  me  to  depart,  believing  that  I  should 
certainly  rest  with  the  people  of  God.  Oh  !  for  some  guardian  angel 
to  convey  my  spirit  to  a  happier  clime,  while  the  grave  kindly  opens 
to  receive  my  mortal  body,  until  the  morning  of  the  resurrection. 
How  gladly  would  I  resign  myself  to  its  bosom.  But  all  the  days  of 
my  appointed  time  will  I  wait  till  my  change  come. 

"  I  am  yours  with  much  respect,         " 

"Hamilton,  Nov.  11,  1818. 

"  How  sweet  the  intercourse  where  hearts  agree, 
Thought  meeting  thought  in  perfect  harmony  ; 
Whilst  here  our  hearts  agree  in  truth  and  love, 
We  share  in  part  the  bliss  of  saints  above." 

"  But  I  find  my  trembling  hand  too  weak  to  paint  our  former 
friendship  either  in  verse  or  prose.  And  may  I  not  say  with  proprie- 
ty that  the  same  is  still  existing  between  us,  although  we  are  sepa- 
rated at  present  by  many  miles.  And  were  it  possible  for  me  to 
exchange  this  opportunity  for  verbal  intercourse,  how  quickly  would 
I  lay  aside  my  pen  and  tell  you  all  my  heart. 

"  My  mind  is  constantly  employed  in  making  observations  as  I 
pass  from  scene  to  scene,  and  I  conclude  from  the  whole  that  it  is  a 
matter  of  the  greatest  importance  that  I  act  up  to  the  dignity  of 
my  character  as  a  moral  agent,  filling  up  the  rounds  of  duty  during 
my  short  co-partnership  with  flesh  and  blood  ;  and  that  I  consider 
who  hath  placed  me  here,  and  for  what  end  I  am  sent  into  this 
world  of  discipline  and  trial ;  and  whether  I  have  found  my  par- 
ticular allotment  on  this  stage,  and  am  acting  the  rational  part,  where 
angels  and  men  and  the  Great  God,  are  my  spectators.     Ah !  what 


526  MEMOIRS  OF 

shall  I  do  to  secure  the  favor  of  the  King  Eternal  ?  Should  we  give 
our  goods  to  feed  the  poor,  or  our  bodies  to  be  burned,  without 
charity  we  are  nothing.  It  is  love  that  unites  the  soul  to  God,  and 
induces  unfeigned  obedience  to  his  law.  Oh  !  for  more  love  to  God 
and  man,  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  accomplish  the  business  of  life, 
and  finish  my  course  in  peace. 

"  We  have  just  received  your  kind  letter,  and  are  all  much  pleas- 
ed to  hear  of  your  health  and  the  prosperity  of  Zion.  Bless  the 
Lord  for  what  he  has  done  for  us  as  a  family.  When  I  reflect  upon 
the  goodness  of  God  toward  us,  I  am  lost  in  astonishment,  and  am 
ready  to  fall  prostrate  at  his  feet  and  offer  oblations  of  praise  and 
thanksgiving  to  God  for  all  his  benefits.  It  is  my  prayer  that  God 
may  prosper  you — the  secret  closet,  the  grove,  and  the  field,  witness 
to  my  prayers  in  your  behalf.  But  I  forbear  lest  I  should  weary 
your  patience  with  my  long  story. 

Still  yours,  he.  " 

Hamilton,  October  31,  1819. 
"  To  Mrs.  Mary  Peck,      > 

"  I  am  a  soldier  enlisted  under  the  King  Eternal,  to  fight  against 
the  powers  of  darkness.  It  is  nine  years  since  I  have  been  intrusted 
with  the  spiritual  weapons  of  the  Christian  warfare,  in  which  time 
I  have  been  enabled  to  gain  many  glorious  victories  to  the  confusion 
of  the  armies  of  the  aliens.  And  bless  the  Lord,  time  is  swiftly 
rolling.  And  this  mudwall  cottage  being  under  the  pressure  of  con- 
tinual disorder,  beaten  with  winds  and  storms  will  soon  fall  and  return 
to  the  dust.  Then  I  shall  have  no  need  of  this  spiritual  armor,  but 
shall  rest  from  my  labors.  And  in  the  morning  of  the  resurection 
I  humbly  trust,  that  he  who  has  led  captivity  captive  will  raise  un- 
worthy me  to  sound  an  eternal  anthem  of  praise  to  God  for  redeem- 
ing goodness ;  where  I  shall  meet  my  beloved  Christian  friends  and 
relations  with  the  Israel  of  God, 

"Yours  he.  " 

"Hamilton,  May  13,  1821. 
"  My  dear  Brother  and  Sister, 

"  After  much  anxiety  of  mind  respecting  you,  we  received  your  let- 
ter, which  afforded  us  a  degree  of  consolation,  especially  to  learn  from 
it  that  your  health  is  improving.  Truly  health  is  the  greatest  earth- 
ly blessing  heaven  is  pleased  to  bestow  upon  us.  From  experience  I 
am  prepared  to  condole  with  those  who  are  deprived  of  good  health. 
They  are  unable,  without  a  great  deal  of  grace,  to  relish  the  enjoy- 
ments of  life,  or  to  have  correct  views  of  their  situation.  The  spirits 
becoming  depressed,  earth  wears  a  gloomy  aspect,  and  the  miseries 
of  human  life  are  presented  to  the  mind  with  their  melancholy  train 
of  woes,  and  if  not  checked  in  the  first  stage,  it  soon  terminates  in  a 
derangement  of  the  believing  faculties  and   causes  us   to  entertain 


MISS     ELIZABETH    PECK.  527 

erroneous  views  of  things.  To  have  just  views  of  myself  and  the 
objects  around  me  appears  important.  I  wish  not  to  rate  things  too 
high  or  too  low.  Either  of  those  errors  is  attended  with  embarrass- 
ments. I  want  to  be  able  to  say  in  prosperity  and  adversity,  that 
"  none  of  these  things  move  me."  I  desire  to  be  regulated  by  the 
gospel  rule  in  all  my  conduct  through  life,  so  that  my  being  on  earth 
prove  not  in  vain  to  myself,  nor  a  prejudice  to  others. 

"  It  is  a  dull  time  in  religion  among  us,  the  people  are  careless 
about  their  souls  or  secure  on  an  old  hope.  There  has  been  a  great 
deal  of  sickness,  and  several  deaths  in  our  town.  But  through  di- 
vine goodness  we  have  escaped  with  a  few  accidents,  which,  no  doubt, 
are  hints  for  us  to  prepare  for  greater  events.  Oh  !  my  brother,  I 
feel  the  need  of  being  like  an  evergreen  whose  leaves  wither  not  in 
time  of  drought  or  frost.  I  long  to  give  glory  to  God  for  the  movings 
of  his  Spirit  on  my  heart  while  I  write.  I  do  expect  ere  long  to 
meet  my  dear  friends  in  a  more  delightful  country,  where  our  songs 
of  prabe  will  be  eternally  without  interruption. 

"  I  should  say  much  more,  but  the  bearer  of  this  is  waiting.  I 
must  just  remind  you  that  it  has  been  a  great  while  since  we  have 
seen  you,  and  we  are  looking  forward  to  the  time  of  the  Conference, 
hoping  then  to  receive  a  visit  from  you.     I  hope  you  will  not  fail. 

Yours,  &c.  " 

"Hamilton,  Nov.  14,  1822. 
"  My  very  dear  Brother  and  Sister, 

"  With  a  trembling  hand  and  heart,  I  attempt  to  give  you  informa- 
tion of  the  late  afflictive  Providence  in  our  family,  hoping  you  are  pre- 
pared by  grace  to  receive  the  tidings  of  sorrow  and  grief,  and  yet  of 
joy  and  gladness.  Death  has  entered  our  dwelling  ! ! !  Mary,  our 
sister,  has  just  taken  her  everlasting  flight  to  the  skies.  We  should 
be  glad  to  have  you  come  and  mourn  with  us,  and  if  possible,  con>- 
fort  us.  But  I  forbear  enlargement,  and  shut  up  my  feelings  within 
my  own  breast. 

Yours,  &c.  " 

She  spent  the  forepart  of  last  summer  with  her  brother.  Dur- 
ing which  time,  her  conduct  and  conversation  afforded  sufficient  evi- 
dence, that  she  was  fast  ripening  for  heaven  and  immortal  happiness. 
She  returned  home  the  first  of  August.  After  which  it  was  observ- 
ed by  the  family,  that  she  conversed  on  the  subjects  of  death  and 
eternity,  with  unusual  freedom  and  interest.  The  following  lines  she 
repeated  and  sung  so  frequently,  even  while  about  her  daily  employ- 
ment, that  it  was  remarked  by  several  not  belonging  to  the  family. 

"  Let  this  vain  world  engage  no  more, 

Behold  the  opening  tomb ; 
Its  bids  us  use  the  present  hour. 

To-morrow  death  may  come.*' 


528  MEMOIRS  OF 

On  the  death  of  her  sister,  (as  may  be  observed  in  the  last  letter) 
her  feelings  were  considerably  excited.  This  letter  was  written  but 
a  few  moments  after  the  event  happened,  while  her  heart  was  bleed- 
ing with  the  wound  occasioned  by  the  departure  of  one  of  her  dear- 
est earthly  friends.  But  she  soon  recollected  herself,  and  became 
resigned  to  the  will  of  Providence.  When  her  sister  was  interred, 
she  fell  upon  her  knees  by  the  side  of  the  grave,  and  continued  |in 
this  posture  for  some  minutes,  lifting  up  her  heart  to  God  in  silent 
adoration  and  praise.  But  the  malignant  fever  which  carried  off 
Mary,  continued  its  ravages  in  the  family.  Previous  to  her  being 
attacked  herself,  several  were  brought  down  to  the  borders  of  the 
grave.  She  spared  no  attention  or  labor.  She  even  seemed  to  go 
beyond  herself,  forgetting  the  weakness  of  her  constitution.  For 
one  of  her  brothers  she  felt  a  peculiar  degree  of  anxiety.  When  his 
life  was  almost  wholly  despaired  of  by  all,  she  brought  his  case  to 
the  Lord.  She  besought  God  to  give  him  to  his  parents  a  little 
longer,  to  comfort  them  in  their  declining  years.  Many  were  the 
petitions  which  she  offered  up  to  God  upon  her  knees  by  his  bedside. 
And  here  it  was  that  she  was  first  seized  with  the  fits  of  ague,  which 
warned  her  of  an  attack  of  the  fever.  At  first  she  was  almost  un- 
willing to  give  up,  and  be  seemed  lost  by  this  means,  as  others  she 
thought  more  needy  would  be  neglected.  Though  her  symptoms 
were  not  very  alarming  till  two  days  before  her  death,  yet  she  calcu- 
lated but  little  upon  recovering.  Her  brother  was  with  her  in  her 
sickness,  and  she  informed  him  that  she  thought  it  not  probable  that 
she  should  ever  recover.  Though  such  was  the  state  of  the  family 
by  this  time,  every  one  sick  (eight  in  all)  the  case  of  some  very 
doubtful,  if  not  quite  desperate.  Knowing  that  such  intelligence 
would  create  great  uneasiness  in  her  afflicted  friends,  which  would 
very  much  distract  her  own  feelings,  besides  being  an  injury  to  them, 
she  made  no  such  professions  openly,  but  seemed  to  labor  hard  to 
conceal  the  real  state  of  her  case.  But  this  could  not  be  done  long. 
In  about  eight  days  after  she  was  taken,  her  disorder  took  a  very  un- 
favorable turn,  inflammation  suddenly  taking  place  it  was  soon  dread- 
ed that  she  must  die.  As  she  saw  herself  hastening  to  the  place 
appointed  for  all  living,  her  mind  was  in  perfect  peace.  If  she 
manifested  any  anxiety  of  mind  at  all,  it  was  on  account  of  the  ef- 
fect that  her  death  would  have  on  her  surviving  friends.  "  I  have  no 
doubt,"  said  she,  u  but  it  will  be  well  with  me,  and  I  have  never 
seen  a  time  since  I  experienced  religion,  but  if  I  had  been  called  to 
die,  I  believe  I  should  have  been  happy.  But  I  fear  that  my  death 
with  what  has  already  befallen  them,  will  be  more  than  my  aged  pa- 
rents will  be  able  to  bear."  Being  inquired  of,  whether  she  thought 
she  was  about  to  leave  the  world,  she  answered,  "  Yes  ;  and  glory 
heaves  in  view."  As  she  continued  to  fail,  and  experienced  a  great 
difficulty  in  breathing,  she  requested  one  of  her  friends  to  "  pray 
that  she  might  have  some  relief  before  she  died."     She  soon  closed 


MISS    ELIZABETH     PECK.  529 

her  eyes  on  all  things  below  the  sun,  and  raised  her  heart  to  heaven, 
her  house — her  home  ;  and  when  she  could  not  articulate  a  word  so 
as  to  be  heard,  she  whispered  her  prayers  and  praises,  and  her  lips 
were  observed  to  move  until  her  breath  ceased.  She  died  on  the 
30th  Nov.  1822,  after  walking  twelve  years  in  the  ways  of  obedi- 
ence to  her  heavenly  Master,  with  but  ten  days  illness,  in  the  31st 
year  of  her  age,  in  hopes  of  immortality.  She  fell  to  rise — she  di- 
ed to  live  forever. 

In  the  character  of  our  departed  sister,  we  shall,  I  think,  see 
something  worthy  of  our  imitation.  She  had  a  strong  desire  to  be 
useful.  And  as  her  employment,  some  part  of  every  year  for  sev- 
eral years,  was  teaching  a  school,  she  had  an  extensive  opportunity 
of  teaching  the  youth,  the  principles  of  morality  and  religion.  This 
opportunity  she  did  not  fail  to  improve,  always  praying  in  her  school 
once  a  day,  and  giving  such  advice  to  her  scholars,  and  imposing 
such  restrictions  upon  them,  as  would  tend  to  form  their  minds  to 
virtue  and  happiness.  She  possessed  the  principles  of  government 
in  a  greater  degree  than  is  common,  and  was  very  successful  in 
managing  the  affairs  of  her  school. 

In  her  intercourse  with  her  fellow  creatures,  she  endeavored  always 
to  act  consistently  with  the  dignity  of  her  profession-  She  was  seri- 
ous to  a  degree  that  commanded  respect,  and  yet  her  sociability  ena- 
bled her  to  make  herself  agreeable  in  conversation.  Her  counsel 
was  generally  safe,  and  her  reproofs  salutary.  They  were  always  so 
seasoned  with  the  pious  effusions  of  her  heart,  that  they  rarely  failed 
of  a  favorable  reception.  Her  pious  examples,  and  her  godly  admo- 
nitions will  long  be  remembered,  especially  by  her  family  connections. 

She  prayed  without  ceasing.  Nothing  prevented  her  visiting  her 
closet  at  her  stated  times.  Often  she  visited  it  many  times  in  a  day. 
She  watched  over  her  spirit,  words  and  actions.  By  grace  she  was 
enabled  to  rule  her  own  spirit,  and  even  to  conquer  herself,  which 
"  is  better  than  to  take  a  city."  For  several  years  she  made  it  a  rule 
to  fast  every  Friday.  This  she  found  a  great  means  of  spiritual  im- 
provement.    She  possessed  that  deep  humility  whose  language  is, 

"  Make  me  little  and  unknown, 
Loved  and  prized  by  God  alone." 

She  labored  to  shun  every  appearance  of  pride  in  her  manners  and 
dress.  Her  Christian  patience  was  remarkable.  Though  for  sev- 
eral years  she  labored  under  the  pressure  of  bodily  infirmities,  she 
never  murmured  ;  but  patiently  suffered  the  will  of  God,  in  hopes 
of  receiving  the  promises.  Her  zeal  and  Christian  diligence,  furn- 
ished an  example  to  others  who  were  in  other  respects  her  superi- 
ors. She  diligently  attended  all  the  means  of  grace.  The  house 
of  God  was  her  home  ;  in  it  she  took  great  delight.  She  frequently 
overcame  great  difficulties  in  attending  places  of  worship,  desiriDg 
never  to  be  absent  when  it  was  possible  for  her  to  attend.     She  dili- 

67 


530  memoirs,  he. 

gently  read  the  Holy  Scriptures,  and  labored  to  understand  them. 
Though  her  reading  was  considerably  extensive,  yet  the  Bible  was 
her  principal  book.  She  took  it  with  her  to  her  closet,  and  while 
employed  with  her  needle,  she  often  kept  it  by  her  side,  and  would 
frequently  read  small  portions,  as  she  said,  to  assist  her  meditations. 
But  her  zeal  for  the  salvation  of  souls,  induced  her  to  use  every 
proper  means,  both  public  and  private,  to  save  sinners.  Her  public 
prayers  and  exhortations  have,  in  various  instances,  been  made  the 
means  of  conviction  to  the  wicked.  The  broken  hearted  penitent 
particularly  interested  her  attention  ;  she  was  ready  to  take  such  by 
the  hand  and  lead  them  to  Jesus  Christ,  who  makes  the  wounded 
whole. 

Finally — She  cultivated  with  assiduous  care  the  peculiar  virtues  and 
graces  which  adorn  her  sex,  wearing  as  her  chief  ornament,  that 
"meek  and  quiet  spirit,  which  is  in  the  sight  of  God  of  great  price.'5 

From  the  Methodist  Magazine,  Vol.  6.— 182S, 


531 


MISS   LYDIA  B.   LEAVITT 


Miss  Lydia  B.  Leavitt  was  the  daughter  of  Col.  Gilman  Lea- 
vitt,  Portsmouth,  N.  H.  She  was  born  in  the  year  1798,  and  died 
July  16,  1821,  in  the  twenty  third  year  of  her  age. 

She  appeared  to  have  possessed  a  very  tender  and  delicate  mind, 
naturally  thoughtful,  and  much  inclined  to  reading  and  reflection. 
From  her  infancy,  it  has  been  observed  by  her  family  relatives,  she 
has  manifested  a  scrupulous  regard  to  truth  ;  so  that  it  is  not  recol- 
lected that  she  ever  told  an  untruth.  She  seldom  needed  reproof  or 
correction ;  and  if  at  any  time  reproof  was  given  with  marks  of  pa- 
rental disapprobation,  it  produced  such  excessive  grief  as  to  render 
it  necessary  to  be  extremely  cautious  as  to  her  general  treatment. 
She  also  possessed  a  mild,  and  peaceable  disposition,  and  was  not  a 
little  remarkable  for  her  patience  under  circumstances  of  deprivation, 
trial,  and  affliction.  But  however  she  might  have  been  endued  with 
many  mental  excellencies,  and  acquired  accomplishments,  to  render 
her  estimable  and  beloved ;  it  was  early  piety  which  sanctified,  and 
gave  an  inestimable  value  to  her  character. 

Her  family  attending  the  Episcopal  Church,  she  was  confirmed, 
and  attended  the  Church  services  and  the  holy  communion.  She 
appears  to  have  been  very  early  and  frequently  under  the  operations 
of  the  Spirit  of  God,  and  was  much  in  the  habit  of  making  serious 
reflections  on  the  passing  occurrences  of  providence,  on  hearing  the 
Gospel,  and  on  seeing  its  ordinances  administered.  These  reflec- 
tions, with  her  views  and  feelings  on  religious  subjects,  are  to  be  met 
with  in  most  of  her  letters  written  to  her  young  female  friends ;  a  few 
extracts  from  which,  we  doubt  not,  will  be  read  with  interest,  and  will 
furnish  the  best  views  which  can  be  given  of  her  general  character. 

When  about  15  years  of  age,  she  writes  thus,  after  mentioning  seve- 
ral cases  of  sickness  and  death  :  "  When  so  many  are  sick  and  dying 
around  us,  should  it  not  remind  us  of  our  own  end  ?  Perhaps  we 
shall  be  called  ne^xt, — are  we  prepared  ?  If  we  are,  it  will  be  well 
with  us,  if  not,  why  do  we  sit  still?  Let  us  arise,  and  delay  no  longer; 
for  death  may  be  near.  Perhaps  you  will  say  '  Lydia  has  forgotten 
herself.'  No,  I  have  not.  I  am  writing  to  one  for  whose  spiritual, 
as  well  as  temporal  welfare,  I  am  interested.  I  long  to  have  you 
love  God  ;  who  is  so  worthy  of  our  love  as  our  Maker  ?  How  hard 
must  be  our  hearts  not  to  love  Christ,  who,  for  the  love  he  had  for  us, 
suffered  and  died  an  ignominious  death.  It  was  our  sins  that  cruci- 
fied the  Lord  of  glory.  O  my  friend,  do  taste  and  see  how  gracious 
the  Lord  is ;    he  is  infinitely  gracious,  he  is  willing  to  receive  the 


532  MEMOIRS  OF 

greatest  of  sinners.  Fly  then,  my  dear  friend,  to  Christ  without  de- 
lay, for  he  is  standing  with  open  arms  to  receive  you.  If  you  go 
to  him  you  will  never  be  sorry.  O,  what  are  the  pleasures  of  this 
world,  when  compared  with  those  of  religion  ?  They  are  nothing  but 
vanity." 

On  another  occasion  she  writes  thus  :  "  I  do  feel  that  life  is  short. 
In  a  moment  I  may  be  called  to  exchange  worlds.  Happy  should 
I  feel  if  I  could  say,  I  am  prepared  to  meet  my  God,  whenever  he 
should  be  pleased  to  call  for  me.  God  has  long  been  sparing  us, 
long  reaching  out  to  us  the  hand  of  mercy.  Shall  we,  can  we  be  so 
ungrateful  ?  Shall  we  dare  disobey  his  commands,  who  is  able  to  de- 
stroy the  soul  and  body  forever  ?  Do  we  not  daily  feel  that  there  is 
no  peace,  no  happiness  to  be  found  in  the  world  ?  Why  then  not 
seek  it  where  it  is  to  be  found  ?  We  see  those  who  are  interested 
in  Jesus  are  happy.  They  speak  of  the  goodness  of  their  God,  and 
show  by  their  happy  countenances  that  they  possess  something  that 
the  world  knows  not  of.  O  that  it  were  in  my  power  to  say  some- 
thing to  impress  you  more  with  eternal  things.  O  the  love  of  Christ, 
it  is  wonderous !  And  can  our  hearts  remain  unmoved  by  such  love  ? 
O  let  us  resolve  to  spend  the  rest  of  our  days  in  his  service." 

The  following  serious  reflections  were  made  on  hearing  a  sermon 
from  Isaiah  xxxviii.  1.  "  Set  thy  house  in  order,  for  thou  shalt  die, 
and  not  live."  "  It  has  been  some  time  since  my  heart  has  been  so 
much  affected.  O  my  dear  friend,  are  we  prepared  to  die  ?  Are  our 
hearts  renewed  by  the  Holy  Spirit?  Have  we  chosen  the  one  thing 
needful  ?  Are  we  the  friends  of  God,  or  of  the  world  ?  These  are 
questions  which  ought  to  be  asked  by  every  one.  Is  it  not  strange 
we  should  spend  so  much  of  our  time  in  frivolous  pursuits  ?  O  let 
us  devote  much  of  our  time  to  prepare  to  meet  the  king  of  terrors. 
He  may  come  in  an  hour  we  look  not  for  him — Let  us  flee  the  wrath 
to  come." 

From  about  this  time  she  resolved  to  enter  more  fully,  and  undivi- 
dedly  into  the  service  of  God.  She  began  to  attend  social,  as  well  as 
public  meetings  among  the  Methodists,  and  found  much  encourage- 
ment from  hearing  others  speak  of  the  dealings  of  God  with  their 
souls ;  and  it  was  not  far  from  this  time  that  she  received  a  full  and 
satisfactory  evidence  of  her  acceptance  with  God,  and  the  witness  of 
the  blessed  Spirit  that  her  heart  was  renewed  by  grace.  Whatever 
might  have  been  her  former  state  and  enjoyment,  this  had  been  want- 
ing to  afford  her  permanent  and  constant  satisfaction  and  enjoyment 
in  the  way  of  religious  duty.  In  a  letter  dated  June  18,  1819,  she 
writes  as  follows : — "  I  derive  much  benefit  from  attending  class- 
meetings.  It  is  encouraging  to  hear  others  speak  of  God's  dealings 
with  their  souls.  O  for  more  engagedness,  for  more  zeal.  If  Chris- 
tians remain  in  supineness  they  cannot  expect  to  prosper.  I  have  too 
much  of  a  man-fearing  spirit,  am  too  unwilling  to  take  up  my  cross. 
When  I  can  take  it  up,   I  feel  so  happy  I  think  I  shall  never  shun  it 


MISS    LYDIA    B.    LEAVITT.  533 

again.  But  I  am  prone  to  forget  my  blessed  Savior,  to  look  for  help 
from  creatures.  Yet  I  do  bless  the  Lord  for  his  goodness  to  one  so 
ungrateful.  I  must,  I  will  devote  myself  more  to  his  service,  and  give 
him  my  whole  heart."  That  she  experienced  trials  and  temptations 
in  common  with  other  Christians,  will  also  appear  from  her  letters  to 
the  same  female  friend,  "You  have  no  idea  how  I  feel — Can  it  be 
possible  I  have  been  deceived,  that  I  have  no  religion?  Can  I  rest  in 
this  situation  ?  O  no,  I  cannot,  I  will  not  rest  without  an  evidence  that 
my  sins  are  pardoned,"  &c.  Although  grievously  tempted,  she  did 
not  give  up  her  hope  in  the  Savior,  but  appears  to  have  obtained  a 
full  and  satisfactory  confidence  in  him.  In  her  letters  after  this  she 
generally  expresses  a  deep  sense  of  dependence  on  God,  and  a  long- 
ing desire  for  a  deeper  work  of  grace  in  her  own  heart,  and  to  see  it 
revive  among  those  around  her.  Her  reflections  on  the  lives  and 
duties  of  professors,  show  a  mind  deeply  impressed,  and  well  inform- 
ed with  gospel  truth. — The  following  extracts  will  give  her  views  and 
feelings  on  these  subjects.  "  I  see  more  and  more  the  need  of  con- 
stant prayer  and  watchfulness.  If  I  for  a  moment  trust  to  my  own 
strength,  I  am  gone.  O,  how  dependent  are  we  on  God  for  every 
mercy.  Hold  thou  me  up,  O  God,  and  I  shall  be  safe.  Save, 
Lord,  or  I  must  perish.  What  great  danger  there  is  of  building  on 
false  hopes,  of  trusting  in  something  short  of  Christ  the  only  true 
foundation.  How  close,  how  diligent  should  we  be  in  self-examina- 
tion, and  in  comparing  ourselves  daily  with  the  word  of  God.  How 
dreadful  would  be  our  condition  were  we  to  pass  through  life  suppo- 
sing ourselves  safe,  but  at  last  find  ourselves  deceived.  But  I  think 
it  almost  impossible  for  one  who  truly  desires  to  know  the  truth,  who 
dreads  deception,  who  prays,  and  carefully  examines  his  own  heart, 
to  remain  long  without  knowing  his  true  state." — "  How  strange,  how 
lamentable  is  the  conduct  of  many  who  profess  to  be  interested  in 
Christ.  How  little  do  most  professors  do  for  the  glory  of  God.  Can 
it  be  possible  for  such  to  be  sincere,  who  remain  inactive,  or  go  in 
opposition  to  the  commands  of  God,  who  indulge  in  trifling  and  van- 
ity, and  rarely  ever  speak  of  the  goodness  of  God  ?  May  I  not  apply 
this  to  myself?  O  when  will  the  time  come  when  I  shall  be  entirely 
devoted  to  religion  ?  When  feel  the  continual  witness  of  the  Spirit, 
and  rejoice  continually  in  the  light  of  my  Father's  countenance  ?" 
Yet  again — "  O  when  shall  we  be  more  like  our  blessed  Savior? 
When  shall  we  live  as  we  ought  ?  Is  it  not  high  time  to  awake  out 
of  sleep  ?  How  soon  we  may  be  called  to  give  up  our  accounts,  we 
know  not — perhaps  ere  the  light  of  another  day ;  let  us  then  give  all 
diligence  to  make  our  calling  and  election  sure." 

Towards  the  close  of  life,  before  her  last  sickness,  she  appears  to 
have  had  a  deep  and  almost  constant  sense  of  the  dissolving  nature 
of  our  earthly  tabernacles,  which  connect  time  with  eternity,  the  vis- 
ible with  the  invisible  world,  and  often  expressed  this  to  her  Chris- 
tian friends,  and  that  the  root  of  all  her  religion,  all  her  hopes,   war. 


534  MEMOIRS,   &C. 

in  Jesus  Christ,  the  divine  and  glorious  Savior.  When  sickness 
came  it  did  not  find  her  unprepared,  but  she  viewed  it  as  a  prelude 
to  the  fall  of  the  earthly  tabernacle,  and  the  entrance  on  the  blessed 
scenes  of  her  immortal  existence.  Patience  had  its  perfect  work. 
Faith  was  in  constant  exercise.  Hope  remained  firm  and  unshaken. 
Love  became  more  and  more  evidently  perfected.  It  was  indeed 
a  very  affecting  sight  to  her  friends,  to  see  her  patiently  enduring  her 
severe  afflictions  without  murmuring  or  complaint,  and  expressing  no 
other  desire  but  that  the  will  of  God  might  be  done.  Her  advices 
to  her  family  relatives  and  her  Christian  friends,  were  deeply  inter- 
esting and  impressive,  and  we  trust  will  long  be  recorded  in  their 
memories,  and  prove  a  comfort  and  benefit  to  them  through  life,  and 
in  their  dying  moments.  When  she  was  thought  to  be  near  her  end, 
she  desired  a  Christian  friend  and  neighbor  might  be  called  in  to 
sing  that  hymn  which  begins  thus — "  In  hope  of  seeing  Jesus,  when 
all  my  conflicts  cease,"  &c. 

Her  happy  soul  was  transported  with  a  view  of  that  glory  which 
unfolded  itself  to  her  ravished  eyes,  and  she  passed  serenely  the 
iron  gates  of  death  to  the  portals  of  everlasting  bliss.  As  she  pos- 
sessed so  many  amiable  qualities  and  accomplishments,  some  thought 
she  could  not  need  a  change  of  heart  to  be  a  good  Christian.  But 
happily  such  were  not  her  own  views.  Although  the  change  might 
not  appear  as  visible  as  in  many,  yet  her  happy  soul  felt,  and  humbly 
acknowledged  the  power  of  changing  grace.  From  her  intimate 
knowledge  of  the  doctrines  and  precepts  of  religion,  and  her  close 
walk  with  God,  proceeded  that  uniform  spirit  and  practice  of  piety 
which  caused  her  to  be  beloved  by  the  pious,  to  be  revered  by  the 
irreligious,  and  to  be  esteemed  by  all ;  and  which  has  caused  many 
to  exclaim,  "  Let  my  last  end  be  like  hers." 

From  the  Methodist  Magazine,  Vol.  5.— 1822, 


535 


MISS  ELIZABETH  HOUGH. 


Miss  Elizabeth  Hough  was  born  in  Fayette  county,  Pennsyl- 
vania, on  the  30th  of  May,  1797,  of  highly  respectable  parents,  of 
the  society  of  Quakers.  Her  father,  the  late  Benjamin  Hough,  Esq. 
of  Chilicothe,  a  gentleman  of  amiable  character,  and  greatly  respect- 
ed by  his  extensive  acquaintance,  filled  various  important  offices  in 
in  the  State  of  Ohio ;  particularly  as  a  member  of  the  Legislature, 
and  as  Auditor  of  the  State.  On  his  appointment  to  the  latter  office, 
in  the  year  1808,  Mr.  Hough,  with  his  family,  removed  from  Steu- 
benville  to  Chilicothe,  at  that  time  the  seat  of  government  of  the 
State. 

Of  the  early  life  of  Miss  Hough,  nothing  remarkable  is  recollect- 
ed. She  often  suffered  much  from  a  peculiar  affliction  in  the  glands 
her  mouth  and  neck,  to  which  she  was  subject  from  her  birth.  She 
was  thereby  frequently  prevented  from  partaking  of  the  pleasures  and 
amusements,  in  which  her  useful  associates  and  acquaintances  were 
engaged ;  and  sometimes  felt  a  disposition  to  repine  at  her  lot,  and 
murmur  on  account  of  it — particularly  as  she  had  not  even  the  hope 
of  obtaining  relief  from  her  affliction.  She  occasionally  attended  the 
public  worship  of  God  in  the  Presbyterian  Church ;  but  the  truths 
of  the  gospel  do  not  appear  to  have  made  any  lasting  impression  on 
her  mind.  It  is  not  known  that  she  felt  any  unusual  concern  for  the 
salvation  of  her  soul,  until  she  was  in  the  twenty  first  year  of  her  age. 
It  was  in  the  summer  of  the  year  1818,  a  short  time  before  the 
commencement  of  the  memorable  revival  of  religion  in  Chilicothe, 
that  the  spirit  of  God  wrought  in  the  mind  of  Miss  Hough,  a  convic- 
tion of  her  lost  and  dangerous  state  by  nature,  and  she  was  brought 
to  feel  her  need  of  a  Savior.  The  manner  of  her  conviction  may 
afford  additional  encouragement  to  Christians,  to  recommend  religion 
by  precept  as  well  as  by  example.  There  lived  at  this  time,  in  the 
family  of  Mr.  Hough,  as  a  boarder,  a  young  gentleman  who  had 
recently  been  made  a  subject  of  divine  grace,  and  obtained  a  knowl- 
edge of  Christ  through  the  remission  of  sins.  Feeling  an  earnest 
desire  for  the  salvation  of  others,  particularly  his  intimate  acquain- 
tances, he  sought  opportunities  to  converse  with  them  about  religion. 
With  a  countenance  and  voice  which  bespoke  his  anxious  concern 
for  Miss  Hough's  spiritual  welfare,  he  remarked  to  her,  one  day,  as 
she  passed  him  in  the  entry  of  her  father's  house,  "  What  a  pity  it 
ivould  he,  if,  after  suffering  so  much  affliction  in  this  life,  you  should 
be  miserable  to  all  eternity  /"  These  few  words  were  the  most  ef- 
fectual sermon  she  had  ever  before  heard.     She  heard  them  with 


536  MEMOIRS  OF 

apparent  indifference ;  but  after  retiring  to  her  room,  the  Spirit  of  God 
applied  them  with  force  to  her  heart  and  conscience.  She  endeavored 
to  banish  the  thought;  yet  still  the  words  seemed  to  be  sounding  in  her 
ears — "  What  a  pity !  if,  after  suffering  so  much  affliction  in  this  lifej 
you  should  be  miserable  to  all  eternity .'"  She  tried  to  divert  her 
mind,  and  shake  off  those  serious  reflections ;  but  her  efforts  were 
unavailing.  The  Spirit  of  God  had  fastened  conviction  on  her  mind ; 
and  the  rays  of  Divine  light  which  shone  into  her  soul,  gave  her  a  clear 
discovery  of  her  lost  and  undone  condition,  without  a  Savior.  She 
saw  and  felt  that  she  was  a  sinner,  and  that,  as  such,  the  wrath  of 
God  was  hanging  over  her;  and  now  she  was  brought  to  cry,  in  the 
bitterness  of  her  soul,  "  God  be  merciful  unto  me  a  sinner !"  Tears 
of  penitence  and  sighs  of  distress  evinced  the  anguish  of  her  soul. 
Feeling  now  her  need  of  spiritual  instruction,  and  of  religious  so- 
ciety, she  attended  the  public  worship  of  God  in  the  Methodist  Epis- 
copal Church,  where  she  heard  the  doctrines  of  free  grace — repen- 
tance, and  salvation  by  faith,  illustrated  and  enforced  greatly  to  her 
encouragement  and  comfort.  About  three  weeks  after  her  convic- 
tion, being  satisfied  with  the  doctrines  and  discipline  of  the  church, 
she  united  herself  to  it.  A  few  days  after  this,  while  prostrate  before 
God  in  her  room,  praying  and  crying  to  Him  in  the  deepest  anguish 
of  mind,  for  deliverance  from  the  guilt  and  burthen  of  sin,  she  was 
enabled  by  faith  to  venture  her  all  upon  Christ  for  salvation,  and  in- 
stantly experienced  the  pardoning  mercy  of  God.  Her  distress  and 
anguish  were  in  a  moment  removed,  and  her  soul  truly  filled  with  that 
joy  which  is  "  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory."  In  the  fulness  of  her 
soul,  she  immediately  proclaimed  to  her  friends  and  acquaintances, 
what  great  things  God  had  done  for  her — the  change  which  she  ex- 
perienced— the  happiness  she  felt.  She  rejoiced  greatly  in  God  her 
Savior,  and 

"  Jesus  all  the  day  long, 
Was  her  joy  and  her  song." 

From  the  time  of  her  conversion,  she  entered  with  delight  upon 
the  practice  of  the  duties  of  religion ;  and  from  thenceforth,  to  the 
day  of  her  death,  continued  to  adorn  her  profession  by  a  "  Godly 
walk  and  chaste  conversation ;"  attending  on  all  the  ordinances  of 
God's  house ;  and  recommending,  by  precept  and  example,  that 
religion  which  was  now 

"  The  joy  and  delight  of  her  heart." 

Her  faith  was  strong,  and  in  continual  exercise :  whereby  she  was 
enabled  to  walk  in  the  light  of  God's  countenance,  and  to  "  ask  and 
receive  that  her  joy  might  be  full"  Ofttimes  has  she  been  so  over- 
whelmed with  a  sense  of  the  presence  and  love  of  God,  as  to  sink 
nerveless  to  the  floor.  In  the  ardor  and  fervency  of  her  soul,  she 
experienced  how  inadequate  language  is  to  describe  the  fulness  of 


MISS    ELIZABETH    HOUGH.  537 

joy,  the  "  peace  which  passeth  all  understanding,"  which  she  felt, 
As  "  out  of  the  abundance  of  the  heart  the  mouth  speaketh ;"  so  it 
was  her  delight  to  converse  about  the  things  of  God  and  of  eternity. 
She  regularly  attended  her  class-meetings,  whenever  practicable. 
She  greatly  loved  this  excellent  means  of  grace ;  and  the  rational 
account  which  she  gave,  from  time  to  time,  of  her  experience  in  the 
things  of  God,  was  rendered  a  blessing  to  her  classmates.  Thus  it 
appeared  that  God  in  His  wisdom  was  preparing  our  afflicted  young 
sister,  gradually  for  that  "  rest  which  remaineth  for  the  people  of 
God,"  and  into  which  she  was  shortly  to  enter. 

Tn  the  early  part  of  the  year  1819,  Mr.  Hough,  with  his  family, 
removed  from  Chilicothe  to  his  seat  in  the  country,  about  two  miles 
distant ;  where,  in  the  month  of  September  following,  he  died  leav- 
ing a  large  family  of  children,  most  of  them  young. — This  was  a 
very  painful  dispensation  of  Divine  Providence  to  the  whole  family, 
but  peculiarly  so  to  Elizabeth,  who  from  her  affliction,  seemed  more 
dependent  on  the  protection  and  support  of  her  father  than  any  of 
the  family.  But  her  religion  taught  her  submission  to  the  will  of 
Heaven. 

In  the  month  of  August,  1821,  she  was  attacked  with  a  bilious 
intermitting  fever,  which  in  a  few  days  brought  her  down  to  the  gates 
of  death.  The  violence  of  the  disease  then  somewhat  abating,  and 
some  favorable  symptoms  taking  place,  hopes  were  entertained  by  her 
friends  for  her  recovery.  But  the  vital  functions  were  too  far  im- 
paired ;  her  constitution,  which  had  always  been  delicate,  received  a 
shock  from  which  it  could  not  recover.  She  lingered  until  the  fifth 
of  October,  when  life,  as  it  were,  gradually  ebbed  out,  and  she  ex- 
pired without  any  apparent  pain,  in  the  twenty  fifth  year  of  her  age. 

In  the  beginning  of  her  affliction,  she  passed  through  some  painful 
exercises  of  mind,  concerning  her  spiritual  state.  The  adversary  of 
souls  thrust  sore  at  her,  and  for  some  days  her  mental  conflicts  were 
severe.  But  He  who  "  knoweth  how  to  deliver  the  godly  out  of 
temptation,"  delivered  her.  About  four  weeks  before  her  death, 
while  struggling  in  the  strength  of  faith  and  prayer,  the  "  snare  of 
the  fowler"  was  in  a  moment  broken  ;  her  captive  soul  was  liberated, 
and  filled  with  that  "  love  which  casteth  out  fear," — with  "  all  the 
fulness  of  God"  She  instantly  raised  her  feeble  hands  and  voice 
in  shouts  of  praise  to  God.  She  seemed  truly  overwhelmed  with  a 
sense  of  the  presence  and  love  of  God  ;  and  ceased  not,  when  her 
strength  would  permit,  to  talk  in  rapturous  strains  of  the  wonders  of 
redeeming  love,  and  the  glories  of  a  future  state  of  blessedness, 
Many  of  her  friends  and  acquaintances  in  Chilicothe  went  out  daily 
to  see  her,  to  all  of  whom  she  spoke  with  such  earnestness  and 
sweetness  concerning  their  souls,  and  of  the  love  of  God,  as  failed  not 
to  touch  their  hearts. 

She  continued  in  this  happy  frame  of  mind  till  the  day  of  her 
death  ;  although   for  the  last  (ew  days,  her  strength  was  so  far  ex- 

68 


538  MEMOIRS,  &C. 

hausted  that  she  talked  but  little.  During  her  illness  she  was  visited 
occasionally  by  the  Rev.  James  Quinn,  stationed  preacher  in  the 
Chilicothe  station.  Of  those  interviews  the  following  account  will 
conclude  this  memoir. 

"  I  made  two  or  three  visits  to  our  dear  sister,  Elizabeth  Hough5 
during  the  lime  of  her  last  affliction,  and  always  found  her  mind 
calmly  stayed  on  God,  6 knowing  in  whom  she  had  believed.'  On  my 
first  visit,  when  I  entered  her  room,  with  a  heavenly  smile  on  her 
countenance,  she  said, — '  Oh  brother  Quinn,  how  I  longed  to  see 
you,  to  tell  you  how  good  the  Lord  is  to  my  poor  soul.  I  have  suf- 
fered great  pain,  but  have  had  glorious  times.  My  mind  has  been 
stayed  on  God,  and  he  has  kept  my  soul  in  perfect  peace.'  I  said, 
*  do  you  feel,  my  sister,  that  the  sting  of  death  is  drawn  ?'  She  re- 
plied, '  O  yes  !  and  thanks  be  to  God,  1  have  the  victory  through  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ?  Whilst  we  sung  a  hymn  and  joined  in  prayer, 
it  seemed  as  if  her  happy  soul  was  filled  with  divine  raptures,  and  lost 
in  the  vision  of  God.  Stephen  like,  she  seemed  to  be  looking  up 
steadfastly  into  heaven.  Never  shall  I  forget  the  expressive,  yet  in- 
expressible lustre  which  shone  in  her  countenance,  while  she  ex- 
pressed herself  to  this  effect : — '  Oh  !  it  is  better  to  depart  and  be 
with  Christ— I  have  a  better  and  an  enduring  substance — I  love  my 
blessed  Lord,  and  He  loves  me — He  is  mine  and  I  am  His — Oh 
glory  !  glory  \ — praise  the  Lord,  O  my  soul.' 

"  On  my  second  and  third  visits,  I  found  her  still  in  the  same  tran- 
quil, happy  frame  of  mind.  She  observed,  on  my  last  visit,  that  she 
had  not  such  soul  ravishing  views  at  all  times ;  but  that  her  soul  rested 
in  peace,  resigned ;  and  that  her  confidence  in  God  her  Redeemer, 
remained  firm  and  unshaken  !'  I  was  not  with  her  when  she  took 
her  exit ;  but  learn  from  her  mother,  that  she  contiuued  in  the  same 
serene  and  happy  frame,  until,  without  a  struggle  or  groan,  she  slept 
in  Jesus." 

From  the  Methodist  Magazine,  Vol.  V.— 1822. 


539 


MRS.   SALLY   RUNDAL. 


Mrs.  Sally  Rundal  was  born  Dec.  27th,  1798.  Her  parents 
were  among  the  first  who  embraced  the  religion  of  Jesus,  in  that  part 
of  the  country,  under  the  great  revival  of  religion  which  has  been 
progressing  under  the  Methodist  ministry  for  upwards  of  fifty  years 
in  America.  Notwithstanding  the  opposition  they  then  encountered 
from  almost  all  sorts  of  people,  the  obloquy  thrown  upon  them  by 
the  thoughtless  and  designing,  the  parents  of  Mrs.  Rundal,  being 
convinced  of  the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus,  broke  through  every  oppos- 
ing barrier,  and  steadfastly  persevered  bearing  the  cross  of  Jesus 
Christ.  They  endeavored  to  educate  their  children  in  the  same 
principles  by  which  they  regulated  their  own  conduct ;  and  they 
have  had  the  happiness  of  seeing  most  of  them,  who  have  arrived  to 
a  mature  age,  become  the  followers  of  Christ. 

She  embraced  religion  in  her  youth,  and  evinced  the  sincerity  of 
her  profession  by  walking  blamelessly  in  the  ordinances  of  Christ. 
In  her  twenty-first  year  she  commenced  a  Diary,  noting  in  a  very 
particular  manner  the  secret  exercises  of  her  heart,  and  the  dealings 
of  God,  in  his  Providence  and  grace,  towards  her.  A  few  extracts 
follow  : — 

"  May  2,  1819. — I  have  this  day  been  privileged  with  hearing 
the  word  of  God  preached  from  these  words — c  So  run  that  ye  may 
obtain.'  But  the  stupidity  of  my  heart,  how  great !  Lord  help  me 
from  this  evening  to  arise,  and  so  to  run  that  I  may  obtain  the  bles- 
sed crown  which  is  prepared  for  the  righteous.  If  I  ever  felt  a  de- 
sire to  be  holy  I  do  now.  O  Lord,  grant  me  the  answer  of  my 
prayer,  and  conform  me  in  all  things  to  thy  will. 

"  May  7. — I  feel  this  evening  that  Jesus  is  mine  and  I  am  his. 
O  that  I  may  enjoy  His  smiles  continually,  and  ever  look  to  Him 
for  strength  to  withstand  the  temptations  of  the  adversary,  and  the 
besetments  of  this  vain  world." 

"  May  23. — I  have  again  had  the  privilege  of  meeting  with  the  fol- 
lowers of  Jesus,  and  glory  be  to  His  name,  He  condescended  to  be 
one  in  our  midst ;  and  T  felt  that  it  was  none  other  than  thehouse  of 
God  and  the  gate  of  Heaven." 

"  July  8. — I  have  an  unshaken  confidence  in  God  this  mornings 
and  his  Spirit  bearing  witness  with  my  spirit,  that  I  am  His.  But  1 
do  not  feel  satisfied  without  the  witness  of  perfect  love. 

'  l  want  thy  life,  thy  purity, 

Thy  righteousness!  brought  in  ! 
1  ask,  desire,  ami  long  to  be, 

Redeemed  from  all  sin  "* 


540  MEMOIRS    OF 

This  appears  to  have  been  the  continual  language  of  her  heart  un- 
til her  marriage,  which  took  place  Dec.  6,  1820,  after  which  she 
kept  no  regular  record  of  her  experiences.  She  gave  her  hand  in 
marriage  to  Mr.  Jacob  Rundal,  and  she  became,  in  consequence,  the 
step-mother  of  three  children,  which  he  had  by  a  former  wife. 
This  sudden  transition  from  a  single  state,  in  which  she  enjoyed  all 
the  comforts  of  life  without  any  forethought  of  her  own,  to  a  married 
state,  and  to  the  duties  of  a  mother,  gave  her  an  opportunity  to  dis- 
play the  virtues  of  her  character  to  still  greater  advantage  ;  and  such 
were  her  qualifications  for  this  new  station,  which  involved  such  deli- 
cate and  nice  responsibilities,  and  such  her  conscientious  diligence, 
that  her  Christian  graces  shone  out  with  increased  lustre,  and  fully 
confirmed  the  hopes  of  her  friends,  and  satisfied  the  expectations  of 
her  husband.  Neither  did  she  enter  into  this  state  heedlessly,  but 
"  deliberately  and  in  the  fear  of  God."  Previous  to  her  marriage 
with  Mr.  Rundal,  but  while  the  match  was  pending,  she  observes  in 
her  Diary  as  follows  : — 

"  I  have  had  some  trials  of  late  respecting  my  situation  in  life. 
Twenty-two  years  of  my  short  life,  have  been  spent  in  peace  with 
my  dear  parents ;  and  I  am  now  called  to  change  it  for  one  in  which, 
if  I  do  my  duty,  I  can  be  more  useful;  but  I  feel  that  I  need  more 
of  every  grace  to  help  me.  O  Lord  !  I  come  to  thee  for  direction. 
Make  my  duty  plain  before  me,  and  guide  my  steps  aright.  It  has 
been  my  prayer  for  some  time  that  I  might  be  more  useful,  and  I 
feel  it  of  importance  to  walk  circumspectly  before  the  world,  that  I 
may  not  bring  a  reproach  upon  the  cause  of  God ;  and  if  it  is  His 
will  that  I  should  take  one  who  is  worthy  of  my  affections  for  my 
companion,  I  hope  to  resign  myself  entirely  to  His  will  in  all  things." 
Though  she  believed  her  marriage  to  be  signally  marked  by  divine 
Providence,  she  much  regretted  having  to  leave  the  neighborhood 
where  she  had  enjoyed  so  many  religious  privileges,  especially  that 
of  prayer-meetings,  which  she  highly  prized,  because  they  had  been 
the  means  of  great  good  to  her  soul.  But  though  in  consequence 
of  her  removal  from  the  scene  of  her  youthful  days,  doubly  endear- 
ed to  her  on  account  of  her  religious  enjoyments,  she  continued  in 
the  faith  of  the  Gospel  and  the  fellowship  of  the  saints.  The  domes- 
tic circle  in  which  she  moved  was  adorned  by  her  propriety  of  de- 
meanor, the  sweetness  of  her  temper  and  the  urbanity  of  her  man- 
ners ;  and  her  value  was  enhanced  by  the  assiduity  with  which  she 
attended  to  the  conjugal  and  maternal  duties.  She  marked,  with 
scrupulous  exactness,  any  spiritual  declension,  which  she  at  any 
time  suffered,  and  immediately  "  flew  back  to  Christ  the  way  :"  and 
whenever  her  circumstances  did  not  forbid  it,  she  attended  the  wor- 
ship of  God  with  the  same  ardor  of  devotion  by  which  she  was  be- 
fore distinguished c  Here,  in  the  sanctuary  of  the  Lord,  she  found 
great  delight. 


MRS.     SALLY    RUNDAL.  541 

She  lived  three  years  after  her  marriage,  and  became  the  mother 
of  two  children  ;  the  last  of  which  was  ushered  into  this  world  but  a 
few  days  before  its  mother,  by  an  inscrutable,  but  just  and  merciful 
Providence,  was  summoned  out  of  it.  The  morning  after  her  con- 
finement she  seemed  unusually  comfortable,  and  continued  so  until 
Tuesday,  the  third  day  of  her  illness,  when  symptoms  of  an  ap- 
proaching fever  became  evident ;  and  on  Thursday  morning  they 
became  somewhat  alarming,  the  fever  increasing  with  great  violence. 
Although  suffering  most  exquisitely  from  bodily  pain,  her  mind  was 
kept,  by  the  grace  of  God,  in  great  tranquillity.  On  being  asked  by 
one  of  her  sisters,  if  she  felt  resigned  to  the  will  of  God,  her  reply, 
with  much  emphasis,  was,  "  O  yes,  Come  life  or  death."  In  this 
enviable  state  of  mind  she  continued  through  the  day,  frequently  ex- 
pressing her  gratitude  to  God  for  His  condescension  to  her,  saying, 
"  I  find  it  good  to  suffer  the  will  of  my  Heavenly  Father." 

On  Friday  morning  she  said  to  her  physician,  "  You  have  no  idea 
that  I  shall  live  long,  have  you,  Doctor  !"  He  answered,  Very  little. 
"  Well,"  said  she,  "  Let  the  Lord  do  with  me  as  it  seemeth  to  Him 
best."  Observing  one  of  her  sisters  weeping,  she  said,  "  Why  do 
you  weep  for  me  ?  I  never  expect  to  shed  another  tear — for  sor- 
row and  sighing  have  fled  away."  On  Saturday  morning  her  coun- 
tenance assumed  a  death-like  appearance,  and  it  was  evident  it 
could  not  be  far  off.  At  her  request  the  members  of  the  family 
were  called  together,  and  she  spoke  to  them  individually,  exhorting 
them  with  great  fervor,  pressing  upon  the  children  especially  the  ne- 
cessity of  seeking  an  interest  in  Christ  in  the  days  of  their  youth. 

About  twelve  o'clock  of  this  day  Satan  was  permitted  for  a  season 
to  interrupt  her  tranquillity,  it  being  suggested  "you  are  deceiving 
yourself."  She  seemed  for  a  few  moments  in  a  mental  agony,  ex- 
claiming, "  O  my  unfaithfulness  !  surely  the  Lord  would  be  just,  in 
banishing  me  from  his  presence.  Perhaps  I  am  deceiving  myself 
in  a  dying  hour."  She  entreated  her  father  and  others  present,  to 
unite  their  prayers  in  her  behalf,  that  the  Lord  might  restore  her 
peace.  It  seemed,  indeed,  as  if  the  powers  of  darkness  were  now 
permitted  to  exert  all  their  diabolical  influence  against  this  child  of 
grace,  this  heir  of  glory.  But  their  malice  was  vain.  The  Lord 
who  sitteth  in  the  heavens  laughed  to  scorn  their  cruel  power.  In 
answer  to  prayer,  the  clouds  in  a  few  moments  were  dispersed  from 
her  mind,  and  she  joyfully  exclaimed,  "  Jesus  is  mine,  and  I  am  his  ! 
O  !  how  I  want  strength  to  shout  the  praises  of  my  God.  This  is  the 
last  conflict  I  am  to  have  with  the  adversary.  Oh  !  could  I  tell  you 
but  one  half  of  what  I  feel,  how  you  would  rejoice  !" 

One  of  her  sisters  with  her  husband  being  arrived,  he  said,  "  I  am 
glad  to  see  you,  but  sorry  to  sec  you  so  distressed  in  body."  She 
seemed  somewhat  surprised,  and  said,  "  I  never  was  so  happy  in  my 
life.  I  am  just  going  to  lake  possession  of  my  inheritance."  This 
was  about  one  hour  previous  to  her  death.     Being  informed  that  she 


542  MEMOIRS,    &C. 

could  live  but  a  short  time,  she  observed,  smilingly,"  "  Tell  all 
my  friends,  when  they  see  the  breath  leave  the  body,  to  shout  glory  ! 
for  I  shall  then  be  in  glory."  She  remained  perfectly  sensible  to 
the  last  moment  of  her  existence.  To  her  father  she  said  about  fif- 
teen minutes  before  her  spirit  departed,  "  Soon  papa  you  will  have 
another  child  in  heaven."  With  a  countenance  beaming  with  joy, 
she  raised  her  hands,  and  clasping  them  together,  exclaimed — and 
these  were  the  last  words  she  was  heard  to  articulate — "  O  !  blessed 
Jesus,"  and  so  fell  asleep  in  the  arms  of  her  Beloved,  Nov.  1,  1822, 

From  the  Methodist  Magazine,  Vol.  7—1824. 


543 


MISS   CATHARINE   BROWN, 

A    CHEROKEE    FEMALE. 

ma  -^    c» 

Catharine  Brown  was  born  about  the  year  1800.  The  place 
of  her  nativity  was  a  beautiful  plain,  covered  with  tall  forest  trees, 
in  a  part  of  the  Cherokee  country  now  called  Wills-Valley,  within 
the  chartered  limits  of  Alabama.  Her  father's  Cherokee  name  was 
Yctu-nu-gung-ycih-ski,  which  signifies  the  drowned  by  a  bear  ;  but  he 
was  known  among  the  whites  by  the  name  of  John  Brown.  Her 
mother's  Indian  name  was  Tsa-luh :  the  whites  called  her  Sarah.  Nei- 
ther of  her  parents  understood  the  English  language,  and  of  course 
could  neither  read  nor  write  ;  when  the  missionaries  first  saw  them  they 
had  few  ideas  on  the  subject  of  religion. 

It  is  natural  to  suppose  that  Catharine  possessed  no  more  religious 
knowlege  than  her  parents.  She  was,  indeed,  until  her  removal  to 
Brainerd,  deplorably  ignorant. 

Her  ideas  of  God  extended  little  further  than  the  contemplation 
of  him  as  a  great  Being,  existing  somewhere  in  the  sky ;  and  her 
conceptions  of  a  future  state  were  quite  undefined.  Of  the  Savior 
of  the  world,  she  had  no  knowledge.  She  supposed  that  the  Cher- 
okees  were  a  different  race  from  the  whites,  and  therefore  had  no 
concern  in  the  white  people's  religion  :  and  it  was  some  time  before 
she  could  be  convinced,  that  Jesus  Christ  came  into  the  world  to  die 
for  the  Cherokees.  She  has  been  known,  also  to  remark,  subse- 
quently to  her  conversion,  that  she  was  much  afraid,  when  she  first 
heard  of  religion  ;  for  she  thought  Christians  could  have  no  pleasure 
in  this  world,  and  that,  if  she  became  religious,  she  too  should  be 
rendered  unhappy. 

Her  morals,  however,  were  always  irreproachable ;  which  is  re- 
markable, considering  the  looseness  of  the  manners  then  prevalent 
among  the  females  of  her  nation,  and  the  temptations  to  which  she 
was  exposed,  when,  during  the  war  with  the  Creek  Indians,  the  army 
of  the  United  States  was  stationed  near  her  father's  residence. 

Were  it  proper  to  narrate  some  well  authenticated  facts,  with 
reference  to  this  part  of  her  history,  the  mind  of  the  reader  would 
be  filled  with  admiration  of  her  heroic  virtue,  and  especially  of  the 
protecting  care  of  Providence.  Once  she  even  forsook  her  home, 
and  fled  into  the  wild  forest,  to  preserve  her  character  unsullied. 

These  occurrences  took  place  before  the  establishment  of  a  school 
at  Brainerd,  while  Catharine  was  young,  ignorant  of  the  world,  with- 
out any  clear  views  of  morality,  and  destitute  of  the  knowledge  and 
love  of  God  :  Strange  that  so  great  a  sense  of  character  should  then 


544 


MEMOIRS   OF 


have  influenced  her  resolutions !  But  she  was  a  chosen  vessel  of 
mercy,  and  a  hand,  which  she  then  knew  not  was  doubtless  extended 
for  her  preservation. 

In  the  autumn  of  1816,  the  Rev.  Cyrus  Kingsbury  made  his  ap- 
pearance before  a  general  council  of  the  Cherokees,  and  offered,  in 
behalf  of  the  American  Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Mis- 
sions, to  establish  schools  among  them.  This  offer  was  favorably 
received,  and  early  in  the  following  spring,  a  school  was  opened  at 
Chickamaugah,  since  called  Brainerd.  Tidings  of  this  came  to  the 
ears  of  Catharine,  then  a  hundred  miles  distant,  and  excited  in  her  a 
desire  to  attend  the  school.  She  besought  her  parents  to  send  her, 
and  they  granted  her  request.  Accordingly,  on  the  9th  of  July  1817, 
being  about  17  or  18  years  of  age  she  became  a  member  of  the 
establishment. 

Thus  was  she  brought,  for  the  first  time,  within  the  sphere  of 
Christian  instruction.  Even  then  she  was  an  interesting  girl ;  her 
complexion  blooming;  her  features  comely;  her  person  erect,  and 
of  the  middle  stature ;  her  manners  easy ;  her  demeanor  modest 
and  prepossessing. 

"  It  was  however,  manifest,"  says  Mr.  Kingsbury,  "  that  with  all 
her  gentleness  and  apparent  modesty,  she  had  a  high  opinion  of  her- 
self, and  was  fond  of  displaying  the  clothing  and  ornaments,  in  which 
she  was  arrayed.  At  our  first  interview,  I  was  impressed  with  the 
idea  that  her  feelings  would  not  easily  yield  to  the  discipline  of  our 
schools,  especially  to  that  part  of  it,  which  requires  manual  labor  of 
the  scholars.  This  objection  I  freely  stated  to  her,  and  requested 
that,  if  she  felt  any  difficulty  on  the  subject,  she  would  seek  admis- 
sion to  some  other  school.  She  replied,  that  she  had  no  objection  to 
our  regulations.  I  advised  her  to  take  the  subject  into  consideration, 
and  to  obtain  what  information  she  could,  relative  to  the  treatment 
of  the  scholars,  and  if  she  then  felt  a  desire  to  become  a  member 
of  the  school,  we  would  receive  her.  She  joined  the  school,  and 
the  event  has  shewn,  that  it  was  of  the  Lord,  to  the  end  that  his  name 
might  be  glorified." 

Some  time  before  going  to  Brainerd,  it  is  not  known  precisely 
how  long,  while  residing  at  the  house  of  a  Cherokee  friend,  she  had 
learned  to  converse  in  the  English  language,  on  common  subjects  and 
to  read  words  of  one  syllable. 

These  acquisitions,  which  were  of  no  particular  service  at  that 
time  they  were  made,  are  to  be  noticed  with  gratitude  to  God,  as 
the  probable  means  of  leading  her  to  Brainerd.  They  excited  de- 
sires which  she  could  gratify  no  where  else. 

Her  teachers  declare,  that  from  her  first  admission  to  the  school, 
she  was  attentive  to  her  learning,  industrious  in  her  habits,  and  re- 
markably correct,  in  her  deportment.  From  reading  in  words  of 
one  syllable,  she  was  able,  in  sixty  days,  to  read  intelligibly  in  the 
Bible,  and,  in  ninety  days,  could  read  as  well  as  most  persons  of 


MISS    CATHARINE    BROWN.  545 

common  education.     After  writing  over  four  sheets  of  paper,  she 
could  use  her  pen  with  accuracy  and  neatness,  even  without  a  copy. 

Catharine  had  not  heen  long  in  the  school,  before  divine  truth  be- 
gan to  exert  an  influence  on  her  mind.  This  was  manifested  by  a 
tenderness  of  spirit,  and  an  increased  desire  to  become  acquainted 
with  the  Christian  religion.  The  same  effects  were  also  observed 
in  two  or  three  other  Cherokees.  She  did  not  seem  to  be  greatly 
influenced  by  a  fear  of  the  punishment  threatened  against  sin.  She 
rather  seemed  to  be  anxious  to  know  the  will  of  God  and  to  do  it. 
The  reading  of  the  Scriptures,  singing  and  prayer,  occupied  much 
of  her  time,  and  often  was  she  affected  to  tears ;  while  her  whole 
deportment,  as  a  member  of  the  family,  was  unexceptionable.  In 
December  IS  17,  she  indulged  a  hope,  that  she  had  been  pardoned 
and  accepted,  through  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Of  her  own  accord, 
she  began  very  soon  to  pray  with  her  associates,  and  to  assist  in 
teaching  the  Lord's  Prayer  and  the  catechism  to  the  younger  girls  in 
the  school.  Greatly  did  she  desire  the  salvation  of  her  people.  For 
them  she  wept  and  prayed,  in  secret  places,  and  in  the  company  of 
her  female  friends  at  their  weekly  prayer-meetings. 

Among  the  rest,  the  case  of  her  brother  David,  then  on  the  Ar- 
kansas river,  was  specially  interesting.  One  morning,  having  retir- 
ed to  the  neighboring  woods  for  devotion,  she  became  so  deeply  en- 
gaged in  prayer  for  this  dear  brother,  that  the  time  passed  insensi- 
bly, and  she  remained  in  her  sacred  retreat  till  the  sun  was  near  set- 
ting. She  had  been  favored  with  unusual  nearness  of  access  to  her 
heavenly  Father,  and  returned  home  with  an  humble  confidence,  that 
He  would  fully  answer  her  prayers.  After  David  had  gone  to  New 
England  to  complete  his  education,  having  previously  given  satisfac- 
tory evidence  of  piety,  she  related  these  facts  to  a  confidential  friend, 
and  said  she  wished  to  remember  them  with  gratitude. 

At  the  commencement  of  the  year  1818,  an  event  occured,  which 
shewed  how  much  Catharine  was  attached  to  the  society  and  the 
privileges  enjoyed  at  Brainerd.  Her  father,  designing  to  remove 
with  his  family  beyond  the  Mississippi,  came  to  take  her  from  the 
school.  The  prospect  of  a  separation  was  equally  painful  to  Cath- 
arine and  to  the  misssionaries.  They  regarded  her  as  the  first  fruit 
of  their  missionary  labor,  and  loved  her  not  only  on  that  account,  but 
also  on  account  of  her  pious  and  amiable  conduct.  On  her  part,  the 
affection  was  not  less  stroiis; ;  and  besides,  she  felt  herself  too  weak 
to  leave  the  society  of  God's  people,  and  go  into  the  howling  wilder- 
ness alone. 

She  desired  to  receive,  before  her  departure,  the  seal  of  the  cov- 
enant of  grace,  in  the  holy  ordinance  of  baptism.  This  request  was 
cheerfully  granted  ;  and,  on  the  25th  of  January  1818,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  a  large  and  solemn  assembly,  she  consecrated  herself  to  the 
service  of  Christ.  She  then  accompanied  her  father  to  his  distant 
abode. 

69 


546  MEMOIRS  OF 

But  circumstances  prevented  the  immediate  removal  of  her  par- 
ents, and  she  was  permitted  to  revisit  Brainerd  for  the  purpose  of 
spending  a  few  months  more  on  that  hallowed  ground.  Her  re- 
turn furnished  an  opportunity  to  admit  her  to  full  communion  in  the 
visible  church,  which  was  done  on  the  19th  of  March,  and  the  sol- 
emn covenant  with  the  Most  High  was  ratified  at  the  communion 
table. 

In  this  abstract,  many  facts  worthy  of  insertion  must  be  omitted. 
We  have  space  only  for  the  more  prominent  events  in  her  interesting 
career. 

The  time  subsequent  to  her  return  fled  rapidly  away,  in  pious 
employments  and  Christian  intercourse,  and  brought  the  expected, 
dreaded  separation.  It  shall  be  described  in  the  words  of  those3 
who,  next  to  the  lovely  sufferer,  felt  it  most. 

"  November  4. — The  parents  of  Catharine  Brown  called  on  us. 
They  are  on  their  way  to  the  Agency.  The  old  grey-headed  man, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  said  he  must  go  over  the  Mississippi.  The 
white  people  would  not  suffer  him  to  live  here.  They  had  stolen 
his  cattle,  horses,  and  hogs,  until  he  had  very  little  left.  He  expect- 
ed to  return  from  the  Agency,  in  about  ten  days,  and  should  then 
want  Catharine  to  go  home,  and  prepare  to  go  with  him  to  the  Ar- 
kansas. We  requested  him  to  leave  his  daughter  with  us  yet  a  little 
while,  and  go  to  the  Arkansas  without  her ;  and  we  would  soon  send 
her  to  him,  with  much  more  knowledge  than  she  now  has.  To  this 
lie  would  not  consent ;  but  signified  a  desire,  that  some  of  us  would 
go  along  with  him.  It  is  a  great  trial  to  think  of  sending  this  dear 
sister  away  with  only  one  year's  tuition ;  but  we  fear  she  must  go. 
The  Lord  can  and  will  order  otherwise,  if,  on  the  whole,  it  is  for 
the  best." 

While  her  parents  were  gone  to  the  Agency,  she  made  a  farewell 
visit  to  Springplace,  the  seat  of  the  Moravian  mission,  thirty-five  miles 
distant.  She  returned  to  Brainerd  on  the  9th;  and,  on  the  20th  the 
missionaries  thus  describe  her  removal. 

"We  had  a  very  affectionate  scene,  in  the  departure  of  our  sister 
Catharine.  Her  father  and  mother,  returning  from  the  Agency  to 
go  to  the  Arkansas,  stopped  yesterday  for  the  purpose  of  taking  her 
with  them.  She  knew  that  she  needed  more  information  to  be  pre- 
pared to  go  alone  into  the  wilderness,  and  intreated  them  to  leave 
her  with  us  a  little  longer.  She  is  their  only  daughter,*  and  they 
would  not  consent  on  any  terms.  The  struggle  was  very  severe. 
She  wept  and  prayed,  and  promised  to  come  to  them,  as  soon  as 
she  had  finished  her  literary  education,  and  acquired  some  further 
knowledge  of  the  Christian  religion.     We  engaged  that  she  should 


*  Catharine  had  half-sisters,  but  was  the  only  daughter  of  Mr.  Brown  by  this 
marriage. 


MISS    CATHARINE    BROWN.  547 

be  provided  for  while  here,  and  assisted  in  going  to  them.  Her 
mother  said,  she  could  not  live,  if  Catharine  would  not  now  go  with 
them.  Catharine  replied,  that  to  her  it  would  be  more  bitter  than 
death  to  leave  us,  and  go  where  there  were  no  missionaries.  Her 
father  became  impatient,  and  told  her,  if  she  would  not  mind  him, 
and  go  with  them  now,  he  would  disown  her  for  ever,  but  if  she 
would  now  go,  as  soon  as  missionaries  came  to  the  Arkansas,  (and 
he  expected  they  would  be  there  soon,)  she  might  go  and  live  with 
them  as  long  as  she  pleased.     He  wished  her  to  have  more  learning. 

"  Never  before  had  this  precious  convert  so  severe  a  trial ;  and  nev- 
er, perhaps,  did  her  grace  shine  so  bright.  She  sought  for  nothing 
but  to  know  her  duty,  and  asked  for  a  few  minutes  to  be  by  herself 
undisturbed.  She  returned,  and  said  she  would  go.  After  she  had 
collected  and  put  up  her  clothing,  the  family  were  assembled,  a  part- 
ing hymn  was  sung,  and  a  prayer  offered.  With  mingled  emotions 
of  joy  and  grief,  we  commended  her  to  the  grace  of  God,  and  they 
departed. 

"  Precious  babe  in  Christ !  a  few  months  ago  brought  out  of  the 
dark  wilderness ;  here  illuminated  by  the  word  and  Spirit  of  God  ; 
and  now  to  be  sent  back  into  the  dark  and  chilling  shades  of  the  for- 
est, without  one  fellow  traveler,  with  whom  she  can  say,  '  Our  Fa- 
ther !'  O  ye,  who  with  delight  sit  under  the  droppings  of  the  sanc- 
tuary, and  enjoy  the  communion  of  saints,  remember  Catharine  in 
your  prayers." 

She  departed,  expecting  to  return  no  more.  How  like  a  Chris- 
tian she  felt  in  view  of  this  event,  will  further  appear  in  extracts  from 
her  letters. 

To  Mrs.  Williams,  who  had  removed  from  Brainerd  to  Elliot,  she 
says : 

"  I  feel  grieved  when  I  think  of  leaving  my  Christian  friends,  and 
of  going  far  from  all  religious  people,  into  a  wild  howling  wilderness, 
where  no  star  shines  to  guide  my  wandering  feet  to  the  babe  of 
Bethlehem ;  where  no  warning  voice  is  heard  to  keep  me  in  the 
straight  path  that  leads  to  heaven.  When  I  look  to  that  dark  re- 
gion, I  start  back ;  but  when  I  think  of  my  two  brothers  there,  and 
my  dear  parents,  who  are  soon  to  go,  I  feel  reluctant  to  stay  behind, 
and  leave  them  to  perish  alone." 

To  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Chamberlain,  at  Brainerd,  she  writes,  in  a  letter 
dated  Fort  Deposit,  Dec.  12,  1818  : 

"  I  just  sit  down  to  address  you  with  my  pen.  But  is  this  all  ?  Am 
I  so  soon  called  to  bid  you  adieu,  and  see  your  faces  no  more  in  this 
world  ?  O  my  beloved  friends,  you  know  not  the  love  1  bear  to  that 
blessed  spot,  where  I  have  spent  so  many  happy  hours  with  you  ;  but 
it  is  past  never  to  return. 

"  Dear  friends,  J  weep;  my  heart  is  full;  tears  flow  from  my  eyes 
while  I  write;  and  why  is  it  so  ?  Do  T  murmur?  God  forbid.  Ought 
I  not  to  praise  the  Lord  for  what  I  have  received,  and  trust  Him  for 


548  MEMOIRS    OF 

every  thing  ?  O  yes,  his  ways  are  best,  and  he  ha?  graciously  prom- 
ised, that i  all  things  shall  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  love 
him.'  But  do  I  love  him  ?  Have  I  that  love  to  him,  which  will  ena- 
ble me  to  keep  all  his  commandments  ?  Do  1  love  him  with  all  my 
heart  ?  O  that  the  Lord  would  search  me,  and  lead  me  in  the  way 
of  eternal  life. 

"  Since  I  left  you  I  have  led  a  very  lonesome  life,  and  not  heard  the 
gospel  preached  but  once ;  that  is  when  father  Hoyt  was  here,  and 
Milo.  They  came  here  on  Tuesday  evening.  I  was  sitting  in  my 
room,  and  heard  a  knocking  at  the  door.  I  bade  them  come  in ; 
and  who  but  Milo  appeared.  I  inquired  if  any  body  was  with  him. 
He  said  his  father  was  at  the  door.  That  rejoiced  me  very  much, 
and  I  enjoyed  very  much  while  they  were  here.  Blessed  be  God 
for  sending  them  here  to  instruct  us. 

"  I  am  here  amongst  a  wicked  set  of  people,  and  never  hear  prayers, 
nor  any  godly  conversation.  O  my  dear  friends,  pray  for  me.  1 
hope  you  do.  There  is  not  a  day  passes  but  I  think  of  you,  and  the 
kindness  I  received  during  the  time  I  staid  with  you.  It  is  not  my 
wish  to  go  to  the  Arkansas;  but  God  only  knows  what  is  best  for 
me.  I  shall  not  attempt  to  tell  you  what  I  have  felt  since  I  left  you, 
and  the  tears  I  have  shed  when  I  called  to  mind  the  happy  moments 
we  passed  in  singing  the  praises  of  God.  However,  I  bear  it  as  well 
as  I  possibly  can,  trusting  in  our  dear  Savior,  who  will  never  leave 
nor  forsake  them,  that  put  their  trust  in  him. 

"It  may  be  possible,  that  I  may  see  you  once  more;  it  would  be  a 
great  happiness  to  me  if  I  don't  go  to  the  Arkansas ;  perhaps  I  may ; 
but  if  I  should  go,  it  is  not  likely  we  shall  meet  in  this  world  again : — 
but  you  will  excuse  me,  for  my  heart  feels  what  I  cannot  express 
with  my  pen." 

The  precise  influence  of  this  trial  upon  herself,  cannot  be  perhaps 
be  determined,  though  doubtless  it  increased  her  faith  and  patience. 
But  it  was  a  great  blessing  to  others,  as  it  led  the  way  to  the  for- 
mation of  schools,  and  to  the  stated  preaching  of  the  gospel,  at  Creek 
Path,  the  place  of  her  father's  residence,  arid  to  the  hopeful  conver- 
sion of  nearly  all  her  family ;  thus  illustrating  the  maxim,  that  our 
greatest  blessings  may  spring  from  our  severest  afflictions. 

Her  return  was  scarcely  expected  by  the  missionaries,  when,  on 
the  23d  of  May,  1819,  her  father  brought  her  again  to  Brainerd, 
and  committed  her  to  their  care  until  her  education  should  be  com- 
pleted, intending  to  remove  immediately,  with  the  remainder  of  his 
family,  beyond  the  Mississippi.  This  purpose,  as  has  been  previous- 
ly intimated,  was  not  executed.  Mr.  Brown  did  not  proceed  to  the 
Arkansas  country  until  more  than  four  years  after  this  time,  and  not 
till  the  beloved  daughter,  for  whose  society  he  was  so  desirous,  had 
been  laid  in  the  dust.  The  causes  of  this  delay  are  unknown  to  the 
author  of  this  memoir. 


MISS    CATHARINE    BROWN.  549 

In  1819  Cathraine  was  joined  by  her  brother  David,  who  soon 
became  seriously  inclined,  and  before  many  months  cordially  assisted 
her  in  the  work  of  doing  good.  In  March  1820,  a  school  having 
been  requested  by  the  chiefs  at  Creek  Path,  the  Rev.  Daniel  S. 
Butrick  repaired  to  that  place.  In  May  his  school  had  so  increased 
that  there  was  no  more  room  for  other  applicants;  and  the  people  de- 
sired another  school. 

They  said,  if  a  female  would  come  to  instruct  their  daughters, 
they  would  build  a  school  house  for  her.  At  the  same  time  it  was 
evident  that  a  spirit  of  deep  seriousness  and  anxious  inquiry  was  be- 
ginning to  prevail  among  them. 

These  facts  being  known  at  Brainerd,  the  missionaries  thought  it 
their  duty  to  advise  Catharine  to  go  and  take  charge  of  the  contem- 
plated school.  In  this  advice  she  acquiesced,  though  not  without  a 
painful  diffidence  of  her  qualifications  for  such  a  service.  When  it 
was  known  at  Creek  Path,  that  she  was  to  take  charge  of  the  school, 
the  most  enthusiastic  joy  was  occasioned  among  the  people.  They 
seemed  to  feel,  that  the  preparations  could  not  be  made  too  soon. 
Not  less  than  fifty  Cherokee  men,  besides  negroes  and  boys,  assem- 
bled immediately  to  build  a  house  which  in  two  days,  was  nearly 
completed  according  to  their  stipulation. 

Every  thing  being  in  readiness,  Mr.  Brown  came  for  his  daughter, 
and  on  the  last  day  in  May,  a  little  less  than  two  years  and  eleven 
months  from  her  first  entering  the  school,  as  an  untaught  heathen 
girl,  she  bade  an  affectionate  adieu  to  Brainerd,  to  take  charge  of 
the  school  for  females  near  her  paternal  home.  In  her  diary  she 
thus  briefly  describes  her  journey. 

"  May  31. — This  morning  I  set  out  for  Brainerd,  with  my  dear  fa- 
ther. Traveled  about  twenty  miles.  Thought  much  of  my  belov- 
ed christian  friends.  Whether  I  shall  ever  see  them  again  is  uncer- 
tain.    The  Lord  only  knows. 

"June  2. — Have  been  very  sick  to  day;  but,  blessed  be  God,  am 
now  a  little  better.  Hope  I  shall  be  able  to  travel  to  morrow.  The 
Lord  is  very  kind  and  merciful  to  all  those,  who  put  their  trust  in 
him.  Last  night  I  slept  on  the  floor  without  any  bed.  Felt  quite 
happy  in  my  situation.  Though  very  sick  in  body,  yet  I  trust  my 
heart  was  well. 

"  5. — Have  arrived  at  my  father's  but  am  yet  very  unwell.  Have 
a  bad  cold.  Am  sometimes  afraid  I  shall  not  be  able  to  leach 
school  at  Creek  Path.  We  slept  two  nights  on  the  ground  with  our 
wet  blankets,  before  we  reached  our  home." 

Catharine's  school  commenced  with  about  twenty  of  the  daugh- 
ters of  the  forest,  and  the  number  was  speedily  augmented. 

Not  only  the  daughters  but  the  mothers  also  manifested  a  strong  de- 
sire to  receive  instruction.  Several  of  her  pupils,  in  consequence  of 
previous  tuition,  could  read  in  the  Now  Testament,  when  they  came 
under  her  care=     These  it  was  her  delight  to  lead  to  a  more  perfect 


550  MEMOIRS    OF 

acquaintance,  with  that  sacred  volume.  But  most  of  the  children 
began  with  the  rudiments  of  learning.  This  school  she  continued 
three  quarters  of  a  year,  much  to  the  satisfaction  of  her  scholars, 
their  parents  and  the  missionaries.  She  finally  relinquished  it  only 
because  the  arrival  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Potter  gave  her  an  opportunity 
to  surrender  her  charge  into  other  hands,  and  at  the  same  time  open- 
ed the  way  for  her  prosecuting  higher  studies,  with  a  view  to  greater 
usefulness  to  her  people. 

The  spirit  of  serious  inquiry  at  Creek  Path,  to  which  there  was 
an  allusion  at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter,  increased  after  the  arrival 
of  Catharine,  especially  among  her  own  kindred.  Doubtless  she 
was  not  backward,  with  the  meekness  of  humility  and  with  the  ear- 
nestness of  affection,  to  warn  and  exhort.  And  she  had  the  joy  of 
beholding  her  father,  mother,  a  brother  and  two  or  three  sisters,  uni- 
tedly seeking  the  pardon  of  their  sins,  and  that  peace  which  the 
world  giveth  not.  After  a  suitable  trial,  and  due  instruction,  all 
these  her  relatives,  with  others  of  their  countrymen,  publicly  pro- 
fessed faith  in  Christ,  and  were  united  to  his  visible  church. 

In  the  spring  of  1821,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Potter  spent  two  months  in 
the  family  of  Mr.  Brown.  Speaking  of  Catherine,  Mrs.  Potter 
says: 

"  For  sweetness  of  temper,  meekness,  gentleness  and  forbearance, 
I  never  saw  one  who  surpassed  her.  To  her  parents  she  was  uncom- 
monly dutiful  and  affectionate.  Nothing  which  could  contribute  to 
their  happiness,  was  considered  a  burden  :  and  her  plans  were  read- 
ily yielded  to  theirs,  however  great  the  sacrifice  to  her  feelings. 
The  spiritual  interests  of  the  family  lay  near  her  heart  and  she  some- 
times spent  whole  evenings  in  conversation  with  them  on  religious 
subjects. 

"  Before  our  arrival,  she  had  established  a  weekly  prayer  meeting 
with  the  female  members  of  the  family,  which  was  also  improved 
as  an  opportunity  for  reading  the  word  of  God,  and  conversing  upon 
its  important  truths.  Such  was  her  extreme  modesty,  that  she  did 
not  make  this  known  to  me,  until  more  than  a  week  after  my  arrival ; 
and  the  usual  period  had  passed  without  a  meeting.  She  at  length 
overcame  her  diffidence,  and  informed  me  what  their  practice  had 
been,  in  a  manner  expressive  of  the  most  unfeigned  humility.  These 
meetings  were  continued  while  we  remained  in  the  family,  and  I  be- 
lieve they  were  highly  useful.  A  monthly  prayer  meeting  among 
the  sisters  of  the  church  was  soon  after  established,  in  which  Catha- 
rine took  a  lively  interest ;  nor  did  she  ever  refuse  when  requested 
to  take  an  active  part  in  the  devotional  exercises. 

"  Soon  after  we  removed  to  our  station,  Catharine  became  a  mem- 
ber of  our  family,  and  of  the  school.  All  her  energies  were  now 
bent  towards  the  improvement  of  her  mind,  with  a  view  to  future 
usefulness  among  her  people.  Both  in  school,  and  in  the  family,  her 
deportment  was  such  as  greatly  to  endear  her  to  our  hearts,  and  she 
was  most  tenderly  loved  by  all  the  children." 


MISS    CATHARINE    BROWN.  551 

On  the  2d  of  February  1822,  her  brother  John  died  in  the  faith 
and  hope  of  the  Gospel.  She  had  watched  over  him  with  great  af- 
fection, on  his  journey  to  the  grave,  and  has  inserted  in  her  diary,  a 
simple  but  beautiful  narrative  of  his  sickness  and  death. 

In  the  fall  of  this  year  she  left  the  family  of  Mr.  Potter,  to  reside 
with  her  parents.  Here  she  was  seen  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Bascom, 
while  on  his  journey  through  the  Cherokee  country,  who  thus  speaks 
of  his  visit  to  her  family. 

"  We  arrived  after  the  family  had  dined,  and  she  received  us  and 
spread  a  table  for  our  refreshment,  with  the  unaffected  kindness  of  a 
sister.  The  gracefulness  of  her  figure,  and  the  sweetness  of  her 
expression,  have  often  been  the  subject  of  remark ;  and  I  was  the 
more  delighted  with  her  humility,  as  I  greatly  feared  I  should  discov- 
er an  unhappy  influence  from  the  misjudged  praise,  which  had  been 
heaped  upon  her.  The  fact  was,  she  gave  me  evidence,  by  her  ha- 
bitual behavior,  of  being  a  sanctified  child  of  God." 

Soon  after  this,  the  disease  of  which  she  died,  began  to  assume 
an  aspect,  which  excited  some  alarm. 

In  consequence  of  this,  she  took  a  journey  to  Brainerd,  in  Febru- 
ary 1823,  with  the  view  of  consulting  Dr.  Butler,  a  medical  gentle- 
man residing  at  that  station.  She  hoped  also,  to  derive  benefit  from 
the  journey.  These  hopes  were  disappointed.  A  cold,  tempestu- 
ous storm  arose,  soon  after  she  left  home,  to  the  whole  of  which  she 
was  unavoidably  exposed ;  and  the  slight  cough  to  which  she  had 
for  some  time  been  subject,  was  very  much  increased.  She  spent 
three  weeks  at  Brainerd,  and  then  returned  to  Creek  Path,  intending 
to  obtain  permission  from  her  parents  to  place  herself  again  under 
the  care  of  Dr.  Butler.  But  her  increased  illness  rendered  her  un- 
able to  encounter  the  fatigues  of  another  journey. 

We  now  come  to  the  closing  scenes  in  the  life  of  Catharine,  where 
her  faith  in  her  Savior  was  signally  triumphant  over  the  terror  of  the 
grave. 

After  her  return  from  Brainerd,  she  spent  much  time  in  reflecting 
on  death  and  its  consequences,  and  these  subjects  she  not  unfre- 
quently  made  the  topics  of  conversation.  One  instance  of  this  kind 
is  described  by  Mrs.  Potter. 

"  Entering  her  room  one  evening  at  an  early  hour,  I  found  she  had 
retired  with  unusual  debility.  She  requested  me  to  read  from  some 
medical  author  the  symptoms  of  consumption.  I  complied,  and  after 
comparing  them  with  her  own,  she  expressed  a  belief  that  she  had 
that  disease.  I  inquired  what  were  her  feelings  in  view  of  this  con- 
clusion. She  replied  with  tears,  '  I  am  not  prepared  to  die.'  You 
have  a  hope,  I  said,  of  happiness  beyond  the  grave?  'yes,  I  have  a 
hope  resting  on  the  promises  of  the  Savior :  but  I  have  been  un- 
faithful !' 

"  We  were  both  too  much  affected  to  say  more,  and  remained  for 
some  time  silent.     At  length  Catharine  sweetly  raised  her  voice  and 


55%  MEMOIRS   OF 

said,  <  Sister  Potter,  how  beautiful  is  this  hymn  :'  and  then  she  re- 
peated 

'  Why  should  we  start  and  fear  to  die  ! 

What  timorous  worms  we  mortals  are  ! 
Death  is  the  gate  of  endless  joy, 

And  yet  we  dread  to  enter  there. 

'  The  pains,  and  groans,  and  dying  strife 

Fright  our  approaching  souls  away ; 
Still  we  shrink  back  again  to  life, 

Fond  of  our  prison  and  our  clay, 

'  Oh,  if  my  Lord  would  come  and  meet, 
My  soul  should  stretch  her  wings  in  haste 

Fly  fearless  through  death's  iron  gate, 
Nor  feel  the  terrors  as  she  passed. 

'  Jesus  can  make  a  dying  bed 

Feel  soft  as  downy  pillows  are, 
"While  on  his  breast  I  lean  my  head, 

And  breathe  my  life  out  sweetly  there.' 

"  I  inquired  if  she  could  adopt  this  as  the  language  of  her  heart, 
and  she  answered  with  great  meekness,  that  she  hoped  she  could." 

It  does  not  appear  that  after  this,  her  mind  was  again  seriously 
disturbed  by  apprehensions  respecting  her  own  future  well  being. 

But  when  she  saw  her  aged  parents  in  an  infirm  state  of  health, 
and  needing  all  the  attention  of  an  affectionate  daughter,  and  when, 
moreover,  she  reflected  how  many  of  her  dear  people  remained  ig- 
norant of  the  only  Savior  of  sinners,  she  clung  to  life,  and  her  ear- 
nest prayer  was  that  she  might  recover.  We  are  informed  that  her 
trials,  from  these  sources  were  at  one  time  very  severe. 

She  said  to  a  beloved  friend,  *  I  know  that  it  is  my  duty  to  submit 
entirely  to  the  will  of  God.  He  can  carry  on  his  work  without  me. 
He  can  take  care  of  my  parents.  Yet  I  am  anxious  to  recover.  I 
wish  to  labor  more  for  my  people.' 

On  the  15th  of  May  she  was  reduced  very  low  by  a  hemorrhage 
from  the  lungs,  and  for  a  few  days  was  viewed  as  being  on  the  bor- 
ders of  the  grave.  Remedies,  however,  were  administered,  which 
gave  a  temporary  relief.  The  Rev.  Mr.  Bascom,  who  saw  her 
again  at  this  critical  period,  thus  describes  her  appearance : 

"  I  have  rarely,  if  ever,  seen  a  more  lovely  object  for  the  pencil, 
than  she  appeared  to  me  on  her  dying  bed.  The  natural  mildness 
of  her  features  seemed  lighted  with  a  beam  of  heavenly  hope,  and 
her  whole  aspect  was  that  of  a  mature  Christian,  waiting,  with  filial 
patience,  the  welcome  summons  to  the  presence  of  her  Lord." 

A  request  was  immediately  sent  to  Dr.  Campbell,  a  kind  friend 
of  her  family,  that  he  would  visit  her  immediately.  He  could  not 
come  till  the  21st,  by  which  time  she  was  so  enfeebled  as  to  be  un- 
able to  raise  herself  without  assistance.     He  gave  it  as  his  opin- 


MISS    CATHARINE    BROWN.  553 

ion,  that  she  could  live  but  a  lew  days,  unless  she  were  removed  to 
Limestone,  it  being  impossible  for  him  to  attend  on  her  at  so  great  a 
distance. 

Catharine  could  not  endure  the  motion  of  a  carriage.  She  was 
therefore  carried  in  a  litter  six  miles  to  the  Tennessee  river;  thence 
she  was  taken  in  a  boat,  forty  miles,  to  a  village  called  Trianna  ;  and 
from  thence,  on  a  litter  again,  five  miles  to  Limestone.  Her  people 
gave  strong  manifestations  of  affection  for  her,  when  she  was  about 
leaving  Creek-Path. 

"  Numbers,"  says  Mrs.  Potter,  "  assembled  to  take,  as  they  fear- 
ed, and  as  it  proved,  a  last  look  of  their  beloved  friend.  After  a 
prayer,  in  which  she  was  commended  to  the  divine  protection,  the 
canoe  was  announced  to  be  in  readiness,  and  we  followed  the  litter, 
borne  by  her  affectionate  people,  to  the  river.  Old  and  young  were 
bathed  in  tears,  and  some  were  obliged  to  use  their  influence  to  pre- 
vent a  general  and  loud  lamentation.  Catharine  alone  was  calm, 
while  she  bade  farewell  to  those  she  tenderly  loved." 

Mr.  Leech  says,  that  small  groups  of  her  acquaintance  were  fre- 
quently seen  on  the  road,  waiting  her  approach.  When  she  arrived 
where  they  were,  they  would  hasten  to  the  side  of  the  litter,  take  her 
by  the  hand,  and  often  walk  away  without  speaking  a  word,  the  tears 
all  the  while  rolling  down  their  cheeks. 

Under  the  skilful  care  of  Dr.  Campbell,  she  soon  began  to  amend, 
and  hopes  were  entertained  that  she  would  even  partially  recover. 
She  herself  seemed  desirous  only  that  God  might  be  glorified.  Her 
friend  Mrs.  Potter,  who  visited  her  in  this  closing  scene  of  her  suffer- 
ings, thus  speaks  concerning  her. 

While  at  Dr.  Campbell's,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  her  brother  David, 
informing  him  of  her  illness.  When  about  to  close  the  letter,  I  went 
to  her  bed-side  and  said,  '  Catharine,  what  shall  I  say  to  your  broth- 
er for  you  ?' 

After  a  short  pause,  she  replied,  '  If  you  will  write,  I  will  dictate 
a  short  letter.' 

Then  raising  herself  in  the  bed,  and  wiping  away  a  tear,  that  was 
falling  from  her  eye,  she,  with  a  sweet  smile,  began  to  relate  what 
God  had  done  for  her  soul  while  upon  that  sick  bed. 

To  my  partial  eye,  she  was,  at  that  moment,  an  interesting  spec- 
tacle, and  f  have  often  wished,  that  her  portrait  could  then  have  been 
taken.  Her  countenance  was  softened  with  the  affectionate  remem- 
brance of  an  endeared  brother,  her  cheek  was  a  little  flushed  with 
the  exertion  of  speaking ;  her  eye  beamed  with  spiritual  joy,  and  a 
heavenly  smile  animated  the  whole  scene.  I  shall  never  forget  it, 
nor  the  words  she  then  whispered  in  my  ear. 

The  reader  will  naturally  desire  to  see  the  letter,  which  was  dic- 
tated and  penned  under  circumstances  so  interesting.  It  was  writ- 
ten in  exact  accordance  with  Catharine's  dictation,  and  was  as  fol- 
lows : 

70 


554  MEMOIRS    OF 

"  Limestone,  June  13,  1823. 

"  My  dear  Brother, — Mrs.  Potter  has  told  you  the  particulars  of 
my  illness.  I  will  only  tell  you  what  I  have  experienced  on  my 
sick  bed. 

"I  have  found,  that  it  is  good  for  me  to  be  afflicted.  The  Snv- 
ior  is  very  precious  to  me.  I  often  enjoy  his  presence,  and  I  long 
to  be  where  I  can  enjoy  it  without  sin.  I  have  indeed  been  brought 
very  low,  and  did  not  expect  to  live  until  this  time.  But  I  have  had 
joy,  such  as  I  never  experienced  before.  I  longed  to  be  gone ;  was 
ready  to  die  at  any  moment. 

"  I  love  you  very  much,  and  it  would  be  a  great  happiness  to  me 
to  see  you  again  in  this  world.  Yet  I  don't  know  that  I  shall.  God 
only  knows.  We  must  submit  to  his  will.  We  know,  that  if  we 
never  meet  again  in  this  world,  the  Lord  has  prepared  a  place  in  his 
heavenly  kingdom,  where  I  trust  we  shall  meet,  never  to  part.  We 
ought  to  be  thankful  for  what  he  has  done  for  us.  If  he  had  not 
sent  us  the  Gospel,  we  should  have  died  without  any  knowledge  of 
the  Savior. 

"You  must  not  be  grieved,  when  you  hear  of  my  illness.  You 
must  remember,  that  this  world  is  not  our  home,  that  we  must  all 
die  soon. 

"  I  am  here  under  the  care  of  Dr.  Campbell,  and  his  very  kind 
family.  My  mother  and  sister  Susan  are  with  me.  Since  I  came 
here,  I  have  been  a  great  deal  better,  and  the  doctor  sometimes  gives 
encouragement  of  my  getting  well.  But  we  cannot  tell.  I  am  will- 
ing to  submit  myself  to  the  will  of  God.  I  am  willing  to  die,  or  live? 
as  he  sees  best. 

"I  know  I  am  his.  He  has  bought  me  with  his  blood,  and  I  do 
not  wish  to  have  any  will  but  his.  He  is  good,  and  can  do  nothing 
wrong.  I  trust,  if  he  spares  my  life,  he  will  enable  me  to  be  faithful 
to  his  cause.  I  have  no  desire  to  live  in  this  world,  but  to  be  enga- 
ged in  his  service. 

"  It  was  my  intention  to  instruct  the  people  more  than  I  had  done, 
when  I  returned  from  Brainerd  ;  but  when  I  got  home,  I  was  not  able 
to  do  it. 

"  It  was  a  great  trial  to  me  not  to  be  able  to  visit  our  neighbors^ 
and  instruct  them.  But  I  feel  that  it  is  all  right.  It  is  my  prayer 
that  you  may  be  useful,  and  I  hope  the  Lord  will  make  you  useful 
to  our  poor  people. 

"  From  your  affectionate  sister 

Catharine." 

The  hopes  of  her  recovery  were  of  brief  duration. 

Though  every  attention,  which  an  unwearied  kindness  could  be- 
stow, was  given  her,  and  prayer  was  offered  continually  on  her  be- 
half, her  Lord  and  Master  was  pleased  to  hasten  her  departure.  She 
had  entered  the  last  six  weeks  of  her  life,  and  thenceforward  her  de- 
scent towards  the  grave  was  regular  and  unremitted. 


MISS    CATHARINE    BROWN.  555 

Dr.  Campbell  now  thought  it  his  duty  to  inform  her  parents  and 
herself,  that  his  hopes,  even  of  her  partial  recovery,  were  gone. 

Upon  communicating  this  intelligence  to  her  father,  who  a  little 
before  had  come  to  Limestone,  the  good  old  man,  after  a  solemn  si- 
lence of  several  minutes,  observed,  "  The  Lord  has  been  good  to 
give  me  such  a  child,  and  he  has  a  right  to  take  her  when  he  thinks 
best.  But  though  it  is  my  duty  to  give  her  up,  it  is  hard  to  part 
with  her." 

Catharine  received  the  notice  without  manifesting  the  least  alarm, 
only  requesting  the  doctor  to  inform  her,  how  long  she  might  proba- 
bly live. 

On  the  morning  of  July  17th,  she  was  supposed  to  have  commen- 
ced her  last  agonies,  and  Dr.  Campbell  was  immediately  called  to 
her  bed-side. 

I  found,  says  he,  some  appearance  of  anxiety  on  her  countenance, 
which  was  the  result  of  new  sensations  of  bodily  distress,  and  not  of 
any  agitation  of  mind.  As  soon  as  she  could  speak,  (for  she  was 
sometimes  speechless,)  extending  her  hand  to  me,  she  calmly  observ- 
ed, "  I  am  gone." 

Some  hours  after  this,  when  her  distress  returned,  and  her  res- 
piration became  very  difficult  and  painful,  she  said,  in  reference  to 
her  sufferings,  "  What  shall  I  do  ?"  I  enquired,  if,  in  this  trying 
hour,  she  could  not  confidently  rely  on  her  Savior  ?  She  answer- 
ed, "Yes." 

Through  the  day  her  mind  was  perfectly  tranquil,  and  though  sev- 
eral times,  when  her  mother  and  friends  were  weeping  about  her, 
the  tears  would  start  into  her  eyes,  she  would  quickly  suppress  them. 
She  seemed  to  spend  most  of  the  time  in  prayer. 

The  night  was  one  of  considerable  distress,  owing  to  her  difficulty 
of  breathing.  In  the  morning  she  looked  toward  the  window,  and 
asked  me  if  it  was  not  day.  I  replied,  that  it  was.  She  then  turn- 
ed her  eyes  towards  heaven,  and  an  indescribable  placidness  spread 
over  her  countenance. 

Perhaps  she  thought,  that  the  next  morning  she  should  behold, 
would  be  the  morning  of  the  resurrection. 

As  death  advanced,  and  the  powers  of  nature  gave  way,  she  fre- 
quently offered  her  hand  to  the  friends  around  her  bed.  Her  moth- 
er and  sister  weeping  over  her,  she  looked  steadily  at  the  former,  for 

a  short  time,  filial  love  beaming  from  her  eyes  ;  and  then, she 

closed  them  in  the  sleep  of  death. 

She  expired  without  a  groan,  or  a  struggle.  Even  those  around 
the  bed  scarcely  knew,  that  the  last  breath  had  left  her,  until  I  in- 
formed them  she  was  gone. 

Thus  fell  asleep  this  lovely  saint,  in  the  arms  of  her  Savior,  a  little 
past  six  o'clock,  on  the  morning  of  July  18th,  1823. 

Her  afflicted  relatives  conveyed  her  remains  to  Creek  Path,  where 
fhey  were,  on  the  20th,  deposited  near  the  residence  of  her  parents, 


556  MEMOIRS    OF 

and  by  the  side  of  her  brother  John,  who  had  died  about  a  year  and 
a  half  before,  in  the  triumphs  of  the  same  faith. 

Her  age  was  about  twenty-three ;  and  six  years  had  elapsed  from 
her  first  entering  the  school  at  Brainerd.  She  was  then  a  heathen. 
But  she  became  enlightened  and  sanctified,  through  the  instrumen- 
tality of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus,  preached  to  her  by  the  missionaries  of 
the  cross ;  and  her  end  was  glorious. 

A  neat  monument  of  wood,  erected  by  her  bereaved  relatives,  cov- 
ers the  grave  where  she  was  laid.  And  though,  a  few  years  hence, 
this  monument  may  no  longer  exist  to  mark  the  spot  where  she  slum- 
bers, yet  shall  her  dust  be  precious  in  the  eyes  of  the  Lord,  and  her 
virtues  shall  be  told  for  a  memorial  of  her. 

Such  was  Catharine  Brown,  the  converted  Cherokee.  Such,  too 
were  the  changes  wrought  in  her,  through  the  blessing  of  Almighty 
God  on  the  labors  of  missionaries.  They,  and  only  they,  as  the  in- 
struments of  divine  grace,  had  the  formation  of  her  Christian  char- 
acter ;  and  that  character,  excellent  and  lovely  as  it  was,  resulted 
from  the  nature  of  their  instructions.  Her  expansion  of  mind,  her 
enlargement  of  views,  her  elevated  affections,  her  untiring  benevo- 
lence, are  all  to  be  traced,  under  God,  to  her  intercourse  with  them. 
The  glory  belongs  to  God  ;  but  the  instrumental  agency,  the  effective 
labor,  the  subordinate  success,  were  theirs. 

In  her  history,  we  see  how  much  can  be  made  of  the  Indian  char- 
acter. Catharine  was  an  Indian.  She  might  have  said,  as  her 
brother  did  to  thousands,  while  passing  through  these  States.  "  Ab- 
original blood  flows  through  my  veins."  True,  it  was  not  unmixed  ; 
but  the  same  may  be  affirmed  of  many  others  of  her  people.  Her 
parentage,  her  early  circumstances  and  education,  with  a  few  un- 
important exceptions,  were  like  those  of  the  Cherokees  generally. 
She  dwelt  in  the  same  wilderness,  was  conversant  with  the  same 
society,  was  actuated  by  the  same  fears,  and  hopes,  and  expectations, 
and  naturally  possessed  the  same  traits  of  character.  Yet  what  did 
she  become  !  How  agreeable  as  an  associate,  how  affectionate  as  a 
friend,  how  exemplary  as  a  member  of  the  the  domestic  and  social 
circle  and  of  the  Christian  church,  how  blameless  and  lovely  in  all 
the  walks  of  life  !  Her  Christian  character  was  esteemed  by  all  who 
knew  her,  while  she  lived,  and  will  bear  the  strictest  scrutiny,  now 
she  is  dead.  To  such  an  excellence  may  the  Indian  character  attain  ; 
for,  to  such  an  excellence  did  it  actually  attain  in  her. 

And  why  may  it  not  arrive  at  the  same  excellence  in  other  Indians? 
Are  there  no  other  minds  among  them  as  susceptible  of  discipline 
and  culture  ?  no  other  spirits,  that,  in  the  plastic  hands  of  the  Divine 
Agent,  can  receive  as  beautiful  a  conformation?  Are  there  not  dis- 
positions as  gentle,  hearts  as  full  of  feeling,  minds  as  lively  and  strong? 
And  cannot  such  minds  be  so  fashioned  and  adorned,  that  heavenly 
grace  shall  beam  as  charmingly  from  them,  as  it  did  from  hers  ? 


MISS    CATHARINE    BROWN.  557 

The  supposition,  that  she  possessed  mental  and  moral  capabilities, 
which  are  rare  among  her  people,  while  it  adds  nothing  to  our  re- 
spect for  her,  does  injustice  to  her  nation.  In  personal  attraction  and 
in  universal  propriety  of  manner,  she  was,  undoubtedly,  much  dis- 
tinguished. But,  in  amiableness  of  disposition,  in  quickness  of  ap- 
prehension, in  intellectual  vigor,  it  is  believed  there  are  hundreds  of 
Cherokee  youth,  who  are  scarcely  less  favored. 

Catharine  was  not  the  only  convert  from  her  people.  There  have 
been  others,  both  among  the  old  and  young,  in  whom  similar  trans- 
formations have  been  wrought.  Her  brother  John  was  an  instance. 
Her  aged  and  venerable  parents,  who  are  much  and  justly  respected 
by  all  who  knew  them,  are  instances.  Others  still  might  be  named, 
were  it  not  probable  that  these  pages  will  fall  under  their  notice. 
More  than  fifty  Cherokees  were  added  to  the  church,  the  first  year 
after  the  decease  of  Catharine,  the  great  proportion  of  whom  adorn 
their  profession  in  a  manner  resembling  what  we  admire  in  her. 

It  is  hardly  possible,  indeed,  that  any  of  these  converts  should  be- 
come so  well  known  to  our  community  as  she  was.  Circumstances 
have  changed.  The  novelty  of  Indian  missions  is  gone.  The  mul- 
tiplication of  converts  diminishes  our  curiosity  respecting  individuals. 
But  excellence  and  worth  of  character  are  none  the  less  real  for  be- 
ing unnoticed  and  unknown. 

Here,  then,  we  find  encouragement.  The  success  of  past  efforts 
has  been  rich  in  its  nature,  and  animating  in  its  amount ;  and  the 
same  kind  of  instruments,  increased  in  number,  are  still  employed, 
and  employed,  too,  upon  similar  materials.  The  course  of  divine 
grace,  moreover,  is,  in  some  sense,  uniform,  like  the  course  of  nature; 
so  that  what  Almighty  God  has  done,  in  past  time,  is  an  earnest  and 
a  pledge  (circumstances  being  the  same,)  of  what  he  will  do,  in  time 
to  come.  Upon  these  accounts,  among  others,  we  may  cherish 
raised  expectations.  Should  the  enterprise  which  has  been  com- 
menced so  auspiciously,  be  prosecuted  with  prudence,  zeal,  and  in 
the  fear  of  God,  we  shall  not  be  extravagant  if  we  look  for  the  gene- 
ral prevalence  of  pure  religion  among  a  people,  in  the  midst  of 
whom,  at  die  breaking  up  of  their  long  night  of  paganism,  this  inter- 
esting female  shone  as  a  morning  star. 

The  present  is  emphatically  the  time  for  vigorous  Christian  effort. 
Probably  it  is  the  only  time  when  great  success  is  possible.  Various 
unpropitious  causes  press  heavily  upon  the  poor  Indians;  and  it  is 
believed,  that  nothing  will  save  them  from  extinction,  as  a  people, 
but  the  general  prevalence  of  true  religion.  All  things  else  will  be 
vain  without  this. 

The  position,  that  civilization  must  prcecde  Christianity,  is  so  un- 
supported by  facts,  i^  so  opposed  to  all  experience,  that  one  would 
hardly  he  advanced  by  enlighl  med  philosophers,  or  be  received  by 
rational  Christians.  What  is  civilization  ?  In  Pagan  and  Moham- 
medan countries,   it  is,   it  ever  has  been,   a  state  of  society,   where 


558  MEMOIRS    OF 

moral  excellence  is  little  known,  and  domestic  and  social  happiness 
little  enjoyed ;  where  man  is  a  lordly  tyrant,  and  woman  is  a  slave. 
True  civilization  is  found  only  in  Christian  countries ;  and  no  where, 
but  as  the  result  of  Christianity ;  of  Christianity,  too,  planted,  in  the 
first  instance,  by  missionary  enterprise. 

Bring  this  religion  to  act  strongly  upon  the  Indians.  Give  them 
the  full  enjoyment  of  Christian  ordinances.  Then  their  '  winter  will 
be  past,  the  rain  will  be  over  and  gone.'  Agriculture,  art,  science, 
legislation,  and  literature,  the  germs  of  which  already  appear,  will 
grow  in  rich  luxuriance,  and  the  Indian  character  will  be  respected 
by  the  nations  of  the  earth. 

Let  the  life  of  Catharine  Brown  operate  as  an  appeal  to  the  be- 
nevolence of  the  Christian  community.  Though  dead,  she  speaks : 
and  oh,  let  her  voice  fall  with  persuasive  and  irresistible  eloquence 
upon  every  ear. 

Shall  her  people,  of  whom,  by  the  purifying  and  ennobling  influ- 
ences of  the  Gospel,  so  much  can  be  made,  be  abandoned  to  igno- 
rance and  wo  ?  Shall  beings  who  are  capable  of  knowing  God,  of 
understanding  the  grand  economy  of  his  grace,  of  enjoying  the  im- 
perishable blessings  of  his  salvation,  be  shut  out  eternally  from  such 
wisdom,  and  debarred  forever  from  such  enjoyment? 

Are  they  not  susceptible  of  whatever  is  useful,  and  beautiful,  and 
even  sublime,  in  character  ?  Can  they  not  appreciate,  and  will  they 
not  use,  the  means  of  Christian  civilization,  if  placed  within  their 
reach  ? 

And  may  we  not  expect  an  abundant  reward  ?  Nay,  have  we 
not  already  been  amply  rewarded  ?  To  say  nothing  of  the  impulse 
given  to  the  intellect,  the  industry,  and  the  enterprise,  of  the  nation, 
to  which  the  subject  of  this  memoir  belonged ;  or  of  their  accele- 
rated progress  in  legislation  and  government ;  or  of  the  amelioration 
in  the  habits  and  manners  of  their  domestic  and  social  life ;  or  of 
the  rudiments  of  learning  imparted  to  a  multitude  of  children  and 
youth ;  or  of  the  amount  of  sacred  truth,  the  only  means  of  conver- 
sion and  sanctification,  instilled  into  their  minds ;  or  of  an  inheritance 
in  the  heavens  secured  to  many  souls  : — to  say  nothing  of  all  this, 
Were  not  the  holy  life  and  triumphant  death  of  Catharine  Brown,  an 
ample  remuneration  for  all  the  labors  and  expenditures  of  the  mis- 
sion to  her  tribe  ? 

Say,  ye  missionaries  of  the  cross,  should  ye  repent  of  your  self- 
denying  toils,  if  this  had  proved  your  only  reward  ?  Say,  ye  churches 
of  the  Redeemer,  would  you  recall  her  sainted  spirit  from  the  skies, 
if  what  ye  have  expended  for  her  nation  could  be  refunded  ?  A 
thousand  worlds  would  not  be  worth  what  you  have,  through  the 
grace  of  God,  secured  to  her,  as  is  humbly  believed,  in  the  regions 
of  the  blessed.  And  when  ye,  also,  stand  on  the  heights  of  the 
Zion  above,  and  behold  her  ransomed  spirit  "  filled  with  all  the  ful- 
ness of  God,"  and  exulting  amid  the  host  of  heaven,  will  ye  have 


MISS  CATHARINE  BROWN.  559 

any  regrets  for  the  sacrifices  it  cost  you  to  send  the  Gospel  to  her 
people  ? 

O  let  sloth  be  driven  away  ;  let  the  grasp  of  avarice  be  loosed  ;  let 
benevolence  assume  the  dominion ;  let  a  spirit  of  enterprise  be  kin- 
dled ;  let  the  messengers  of  salvation  be  quickly  sent  to  every  tribe 
that  roams  the  western  wilds. 

Then  "  the  wilderness  and  the  solitary  place  shall  be  glad  for  them3 
and  the  desert  shall  rejoice  and  blosson  as  the  rose." 

From  the  Missionary  Herald,  Vol.  XXL— 1825. 


5C0 
TAHNEH, 

A    CHEROKEE    FEMALE. 

Perhaps  nothing  places  more  clearly  before  the  mind  of  the 
public  the  character  of  missionary  labors  among  the  heathen,  and 
the  success  which  attends  them,  than  biographical  sketches  of  those 
who  become  hopefully  pious,  and  exemplify  their  piety  in  their  life, 
and  at  the  hour  of  death.  The  change  of  feeling  and  conduct,  in 
all  the  relations  of  life,  under  sufferings  and  reproaches,  and  the  new 
hopes  which  spring  up  and  sustain  them  in  sickness  and  death,  be- 
come manifest.  The  reader,  by  knowing  the  moral  character  of 
unevangelized  nations,  may  estimate,  almost  as  by  a  measure,  what 
Christianity  is  adapted  to  do,  and  does  in  many  cases  do  for  them. 
The  subjoined  account  of  Tahneh,  who  at  her  baptism  was  called 
Naomi,  was  drawn  up  by  one  of  the  missionaries  at  Dwight;  some 
slight  alterations  only  having  been  made  in  the  arrangement  and : 
shape  of  a  few  paragraphs. 

Tahneh  was  a  full-blooded  Cherokee,  the  daughter  of  a  consider- 
able chief  and  warrior  of  Wills- Valley,  in  the  old  nation.  She  came 
to  this  country  in  the  year  18 IS.  At  that  time  she  was,  as  nearly  as 
we  could  ascertain,  fifty  eight  years  old.  Previous  to  our  acquaint- 
ance with  her,  we  know  very  little  of  her  history,  or  of  any  events 
concerning  her.  By  her  former  neighbors,  who  are  now  in  this 
country,  she  was  reputed  an  honest,  industrious,  persevering,  and 
kind  woman  ;  generally  respected  and  ever  beloved.  The  marked 
defect  in  her  character,  however,  was  great  irritability  and  peevish- 
ness.    Much  of  this,  doubtless,  was  attributable 'to  ill  health. 

In  the  winter  of  1822-3,  she  removed  to  the  lower  settlement  on 
Point  Remove,  where  she  was  placed  under  the  sound  of  the  Gos- 
pel, which,  till  that  time,  she  had  never  heard.  Her  first  attendance 
on  public  worship,  was  at  the  request  of  one  of  her  near  neighbors 
and  early  acquaintances.  According  to  her  desire,  an  abstract  was 
given  of  the  life,  miracles,  sufferings  and  death  of  the  Savior.  This 
was  followed  by  a  personal  application  to  herself.  With  the  whole 
she  was  deeply  interested,  and  expressed  a  desire  that  the  same  gra- 
cious words  might  be  spoken  to  her  whenever  opportunity  offered. 
From  that  moment  it  was  manifest  that  divine  truth  had  reached  her 
heart,  and  was  exerting  its  influence  there.  She  became  deeply  dis- 
tressed ;  and  as  it  appears  from  our  journal  of  November,  1823,  her 
mind  was  greatly  perplexed  with  some  of  the  doctrines  of  the  Gos- 
pel.    In  vain  did  she  try  to  reconcile  the  sinner's  entire  helplessness 


memoirs,  he.  5GI 

and  dependence  with  his  moral  freedom  and  his  duty  to  use  the 
means  of  grace.  Her  heart  was  evidently  hostile  to  these  truths. 
When  told  that  a  condemned  heathen  would  be  punished  with  less 
severity  in  the  world  of  retribution,  than  a  rejecter  of  the  Gospel, 
she  very  fervently  expressed  the  wish  that  she  had  never  heard  it ; 
as  she  was  sure  she  should  be  among  the  condemned,  and  must 
suffer  for  having  abused  her  privileges,  and  rejected  the  offered  sal- 
vation. 

She  continued  for  several  weeks  after  this  very  much  distressed, 
and  opposing  her  only  deliverer,  until  she  felt  herself  wholly  lost,  her 
strength  entirely  spent,  and  that  she  must  have  a  Savior,  or  perish. 
Then  she  turned  to  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  found  him  a  precious, 
a  willing,  a  sufficient  Savior.  We  trust  that  like  Mary,  she  sat  down 
at  his  feet  and  bathed  them  with  tears  of  deep  and  real  penitence ; 
that  she  cast  herself  upon  him  as  her  only  hope.  In  July,  1824, 
while  on  a  visit  at  Dwight,  she  expressed  a  desire  to  receive  Chris- 
tian baptism.  We  embraced  an  opportunity  to  converse  with  her 
respecting  her  knowledge  and  experience  of  the  truths  of  religion, 
and  found  her  deeply  serious,  and,  we  hope,  truly  humble.  Her 
appearance  and  conversation  exhibited  good  evidence  of  a  renewal 
unto  spiritual  life,  especially  when  we  took  into  consideration  the  pre- 
vious circumstances  of  her  life.  At  a  church  meeting  during  the 
same  month,  she  was  examined  relative  to  her  fitness  to  be  received 
as  a  candidate  for  baptism,  and  the  privileges  of  the  church.  The 
examination  was  very  particular,  and  every  answer  gave  entire  satis- 
faction to  all  the  members  of  the  church.  The  graces  of  meekness, 
penitence,  and  humble  trust  in  God  our  Savior,  were  prominently 
manifested,  and  gave  us  reason  to  hope  that  she  would  be  enabled 
to  exhibit  the  best  of  all  proofs  of  a  new  heart, — a  holy  life. 

In  September  following,  Tahneh  presented  herself  before  the  con- 
gregation, and  solemly  entered  into  covenant  with  God  and  his  people. 
At  her  baptism,  she  was  called  Naomi.  She  afterwards  presented 
for  baptism  an  orphan  boy,  of  whom  she  had  the  care. 

Not  long  after  this,  some  grievous  charges  were  brought  against 
Naomi  by  those  who  opposed  Christians  and  Christianity :  but  so  far 
as  could  be  ascertained,  they  were  utterly  groundless;  and  it  appear- 
ed that  she  had  adorned  her  Christian  profession,  and  borne  the  cruel 
persecutions  with  which  she  had  been  honored,  with  the  gentleness 
and  patient  forbearance  of  primitive  Christianity.  She  was  also,  at 
that  time  visited  with  other  severe  affliction,  in  the  sickness  of  her 
only  son,  whose  disease,  a  pulmonary  consumption,  seemed  rapidly- 
drawing  to  a  fatal  termination.  The  young  man  was  afterwards 
brought  by  her  to  the  station,  as  he  wished  to  spend  the  short  rem- 
nant of  his  life  with  us,  that  he  might  receive  Christian  instruction 
and  consolation  while  he  lived,  and  Christian  burial  after  his  decease, 
In  March,  1825,  he  died,  not  without  giving  us  ground  to  hope  that 
he  was  enabled,  though  with  a  weak  and  trembling  faith,  to  trust  his 


562  MEMOIRS   OF 

soul  in  the  hands  of  the  Redeemer.  We  rejoiced  greatly  to  see,  at 
that  time  of  sorrow,  the  triumph  of  Christian  principle,  and  the  con- 
solations of  Christian  hope,  in  the  case  of  Naomi.  Had  her  son 
been  taken  from  her  two  years  before,  she  would  have  been  inconso- 
lable, and  her  heart  and  her  tongue  would  have  risen  in  rebellion 
against  the  appointments  of  heaven.  "  When,"  said  she,  "  about 
nine  months  ago,  I  was  permitted  to  embrace  my  only  and  long  ab- 
sent son,  I  thought  I  was  a  poor,  feeble,  helpless  old  woman,  and 
that  my  Savior  had  sent  my  son  to  be  a  stay  and  a  comfort  to  me, 
as  I  walked  down  the  decline  of  life  to  the  grave.  I  certainly  re- 
joiced, and  I  hope  I  was  thankful.  And  now  when  I  think  how  soon 
my  son  was  laid  aside  by  sickness,  how  he  suffered  and  languished 
away,  and  now  is  gone,  to  come  back  to  his  mother  no  more,  I  some- 
times feel  my  heart  say,  it  is  hard,  it  ought  not  to  be  so.  But  then 
I  remember  my  sins,  what  1  deserve,  how  many  comforts  are  yet  left 
to  me,  and  that  my  Savior  has  done  this,  my  heart  says  it  is  well. 
We  shall  not  long  be  parted.  I  feel  I  shall  soon  follow  him,  and  that 
my  Savior  will  take  me  to  himself  forever. 

About  the  middle  of  the  same  month,  Naomi  became  ill  herself. 
Her  disease  appeared  to  be  a  violent  inflammation  of  the  liver,  and 
soon  became  very  alarming.  She  continued  to  decline,  and  on  the 
27th  became  deranged,  and  on  the  31st  breathed  out  her  soul  into 
the  hands  of  her  Savior.  She  died  in  the  Lord,  and  as  we  have 
every  reason  to  believe,  went  to  rest  in  the  blessedness  of  heaven. 
During  the  whole  of  her  sickness,  until  she  lost  her  senses,  she  bore 
tier  pains,  which  were  very  severe,  without  a  murmur,  saying,  "  It 
is  my  Savior's  hand ;  I  am  resigned  and  happy."  Even  after  her 
delirium  commenced,  many  of  her  expressions  indicated  that  her 
soul  was  stayed  on  God. 

Her  life  on  earth  was  a  life  of  sorrow.  Almost  every  dispensation 
of  providence  towards  her,  since  we  have  known  her,  has  seemed  to 
say,  "  This  is  not  your  rest."  But  we  doubt  not  that  she  is  now  in 
a  world  where  all  tears  are  wiped  from  her  eyes,  and  where  she  has 
found  by  experience  that  they  who  humble  themselves  shall  be  ex- 
alted. This  was  the  first  breach  made  in  our  little  church.  We 
can  add,  that  the  memory  of  Naomi  is  affectionately  cherished  by- 
all  the  mission,  family,  and  especially  by  the  native  brothers  and  sis- 
ters. Even  her  enemies  are  now  at  peace  with  her,  and  often  speak 
most  respectfully  of  her,  and  of  the  evidence  which  she  gave  of  true 
piety.  One  of  her  daughters  is  now  a  member  of  our  church  ;  and 
it  is  believed  that  the  example  and  affectionate  instructions,  exhorta- 
tions, and  prayers  of  her  mother,  had  an  important  influence  in  lead- 
ing her  to  embrace  the  hope  of  the  Gospel. 

Such  was  the  life,  the  character,  and  the  death  of  this  christian- 
ized Cherokee.  The  change  was  wrought  in  her  by  hearing  the 
truths  of  the  Gospel.  The  case  of  this  woman  is  not  a  solitary  one. 
Many  are  now  living  who  show  in  their  conduct  the  same  power  of 


TAHNE11.  563 

conscience,  the  parental  solicitude  for  their  children,  and  the  same 
kind  social  affection.  Many  have  died  with  the  same  hope.  At  the 
death  of  the  members  of  his  church,  the  missionary  con  estimate  the 
value  of  the  work  which  he  has  been  the  happy  instrument  of  doing. 
Instead  of  seeing  those,  whom  he  has  labored  to  instruct  in  the  way 
of  salvation,  dying  in  utter  darkness  and  apathy  as  to  the  future,  he 
is  animated  with  the  hope,  that,  in  the  instance  before  him,  the  end  of 
his  labors  has  been  attained  :  one  individual  has  begun  a  holy  life,  has 
gone  through  the  dangerous  temptations  of  this  world,  has  continued 
steadfast  to  the  end  :  and  he  now  delivers  over  the  soul  which  he 
lias  been  watching  for,  into  the  hands  of  the  Redeemer,  saying  to 
himself,  as  he  thinks  on  the  dying  scene,  there  is  one  soul  rescued 
from  eternal  death — one  gone  into  joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glo- 
ry— surely  my  labors  have  not  been  in  vain  to  the  Lord. 

From  the  Missionary  Herald,  Vol  24.— 182S. 


564 


MRS.  JANE   CLARK. 


Mrs.  Jane  Clark,  the  subject  of  the  following  pages,  was  the 
daughter  of  Reuben  and  Ruth  Mitchell  of  Dorchester  county,  east- 
ern shore  of  Maryland.  She  was  born  December  the  14th,  1787.; 
her  parents  were  among  the  first  in  that  county  who  received  the 
gospel  of  Christ,  as  taught  in  the  ministry  of  the  Methodist  Episco- 
pal Church,  and  to  whose  souls  it  became  the  happy  power  of  God 
to  salvation  :  from  that  time  forward,  and  for  many  years,  their  house 
was  occupied  as  a  place  of  public  preaching,  and  as  an  asylum  for 
the  messengers  of  Christ  in  the  hour  of  trial  and  danger ;  and  to 
which  many  fled  to  hear  the  words  of  life  and  salvation  in  the  name 
of  Christ.  Their  constant  care  and  attention  at  all  times  were,  to 
bring  up  their  children  in  the  fear  and  favor  of  heaven,  and  in  this 
their  efforts  were  crowned  with  the  most  distinguished  blessings  of 
God  ;  several  of  their  children  have  long  since  died  in  the  triumphs 
of  the  Christian's  faith,  while  they  themselves  are  left  to  toil  on  the 
shore  of  time.  Their  other  children,  four  sons  and  two  daughters, 
are  members  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  and  the  happy 
partakers  of  the  grace  and  favor  of  heaven. 

About  the  age  of  fourteen,  the  subject  of  these  lines,  (as  she  has 
often  declared,)  became  acquainted  in  some  measure  with  the 
depravity  and  corruption  of  her  nature,  while  attending  the  closing 
scene  of  one  of  her  most  intimate  and  affectionate  female  compan- 
ions, whose  soul  was  happy  in  her  God.  From  this  time  forward 
she  became  much  interested  with  the  nature  and  tendency  of  the 
Christian  religion  ;  while  her  tears,  her  groans,  her  sighs,  and  her 
prayers,  conducted  her  broken  and  desponding  heart  to  the  cross  of 
Christ.  In  this  state  she  continued  for  some  time,  gazing  on  the 
bleeding,  crucified  Son  of  God  by  faith  ;  and  as  she  thus  gazed, 
light  broke  into  her  soul,  the  darkness  which  before  had  surrounded 
her  mind  gave  way.  While  she,  in  the  transport  of  joy,  and  the  as- 
surance of  love,  was  enabled  to  say,  "  I  have  found  him,  1  have 
found  him."  From  this  time  forward,  even  to  the  closing  scene  of 
her  life,  she  retained  her  confidence  in  her  God  :  and  although  cast 
upon  a  rough  and  boisterous  sea  of  affliction  for  years,  she  could 
still  adopt  the  language  of  the  poet  and  say, 

"  Yet  will  I  in  my  Savior  trust. 
And  glory  that  he  died  for  me." 

In  the  month  of  April,  1817,  she  was  arrested  with  a  severe  attack 
of  the    inflammatory   rheumatism,  which  for   nearly    twelve  mouths 


MEMOIRS,  &£C.  565 

deprived  her  of  the  use  of  all  her  limbs.  After  continuing  in  this 
state  for  some  time,  she  was  attacked  with  a  severe  coughing,  ac- 
companied with  a  discharge  of  blood  from  the  lungs,  which  con- 
tinued, at  times,  to  the  day  of  her  death.  So  that  for  the  last  nine 
years  of  her  life,  she  never  enjoyed  one  month's  health  at  a  time, 
so  that  life,  in  some  measure  with  regard  to  her,  had  lost  all  its 
charms,  if  any  it  possessed.  In  the  month  of  October  1826,  in  re- 
turning from  an  evening's  visit  to  a  friend,  she  was  arrested  with  a 
chill  which  was  shortly  after  succeeded  by  a  fever,  so  as  to  confine 
her  to  her  bed  and  room,  at  which  time  she  stated  to  me  that  she 
should  not  recover  the  attack,  but  that  in  a  short  time  she  should  re- 
turn to  her  Father  and  her  God. 

From  this  time  she  became  more  than  ever  engaged  in  abstract- 
ing her  mind  from  her  family  and  the  cares  of  the  world,  and  fixing 
it  on  the  interests  of  the  soul,  and  so  continued  until  the  day  in 
which  God  signed  her  release  from  earth  to  heaven,  so  that  when 
the  messenger  came  she  was  ready  to  go.  As  a  wife,  she  was  at  all 
times  affectionate,  and  cautiously  studied  the  interests  of  her  family. 
As  a  mother,  she  was  tender  and  much  interested  for  the  welfare  of 
her  children  :  as  a  neighbor  she  studied  the  peace  and  harmony  of 
society,  and  as  a  Christian,  she  was  warmly  attached  to  the  doctrines 
and  discipline  of  the  Methodist  Episcopal  Church,  of  which  she  was 
a  member  from  early  life.  Her  piety  was  of  that  character,  that 
she  would  often  "  weep  with  those  that  wept,  and  rejoice  with  those 
that  rejoiced."  For  several  of  the  last  years  of  her  life,  her  closet 
and  her  God  could  witness  the  sincerity  of  her  tears,  shed  for  the 
cause  of  her  Savior  and  the  salvation  of  men.  At  times,  all  hours  of 
the  night,  as  well  as  those  of  the  day,  could  find  her  retiring  to  her 
closet  with  her  God,  until  she  was  compelled  to  yield  to  the  severity 
of  her  increasing  affliction.  She  was  always  much  pained,  whenever 
I  was  prevented  from  attending  any  of  my  regular  appointments, 
(which  was  often  the  case  during  the  last  six  months  of  her  life,)  in 
consequence  of  her  indisposition ;  and  although  my  attention  was 
wanting,  she  would  endeavor  to  press  me  into  the  work  of  calling 
sinners  to  repentance. 

The  last  six  months  of  her  life  she  was  altogether  confined  to  her 
bed  and  room  ;  during  which  time  her  affliction,  of  a  complicated 
character,  was  extremely  severe  :  but  in  the  midst  of  all,  her  soul 
was  kept  in  peace,  although  the  enemy  at  times  would  thrust  hard  at 
her.  So  that  at  one  time  she  called  her  husband,  and  said,  "  My  dear, 
it  seems  as  if  the  Lord  deals  hard  with  me,  that  I  should  be  thus  af- 
flicted and  cannot  die,  although  1  wish  to  go."  He  endeavored  to 
encourage  her,  by  telling  her  it  was  the  enemy  of  souls  that  was  striv- 
ing to  destroy  her  comfort,  and  to  look  to  the  Lord  for  deliverance  : 
after  pausing  for  some  time,  she  said  to  him,  "  I  now  know  why  I 
am  thus  afflicted,  it  is  for  my  unfaithfulness."  From  this  time,  her 
•:onfidence  seemed  to  increase,  and  so  continued,  mixed  with  a  pa- 


566  MEMOIRS    OF 

tience  and  resignation  such  as  few  have  never  been  called  to  wit- 
ness. 

A  few  weeks  before  the  closing  scene  arrived,  she  said  to  an  old 
saint  of  God,  that  called  to  visit  her,  "  My  dear  sister  0***s,  I  shall 
get  to  glory  before  you.  Oh  how  good  the  Lord  is  to  me."  On  the 
Sunday  week  before  she  was  called  to  take  her  departure,  she  sup- 
posing her  end  drawing  near,  called  her  husband,  and  said,  "  I  wish 
you  to  send  for  sister  B****r,  I  fear  she  has  something  against  me, 
and  I  wish  to  know  if  she  has."  At  night  she  appeared  much 
worse,  but  her  confidence  growing  stronger  and  stronger  in  her  God, 
so  that  her  soul  became  truly  happy.  She  then  turning  her  head, 
and  looking  her  husband  in  the  face,  as  he  sat  by  her  bed,  said, 
"  My  dear,  will  you  meet  me  in  glory,  will  you  meet  me  in  glory  ?" 
After  giving  her  an  assurance  that  he  would  endeavor  so  to  do,  she 
then  raised  her  voice  to  such  an  extraordinary  degree,  as  to  be 
heard  in  every  part  of  the  house,  and  said  to  her  weeping  friends 
who  came  to  see  her,  one  by  one,  "  Oh  sister  S*****d,  will  you 
meet  me  in  glory  ?"  "  Sister  H*****y,  will  you  meet  me  in  glo- 
ry ?"  and  then  said  to  her  sister,  "  Oh  Harriet,  will  you  meet  me  in 
glory  ?"  After  resting  awhile,  she  turned  to  a  young  lady  who  came 
to  stay  the  night  with  her,  and  said,  "  Oh  Maria,  do  get  religion,  get 
your  soul  converted,  and  meet  me  in  glory.  Oh  how  good  is  the  Lord 
to  me  !"  She  then  said  to  me,  "  My  dear,  you  have  not  sent  as  yet 
for  sister  B****r."  I  then  told  her  I  would  :  at  which  time  two 
of  the  sisters  present  went  to  bring  her.  She  then  said  I  "  fear  I 
I  shall  not  have  strength  to  speak  to  her  when  she  comes.  About 
10  o'clock  she  came  into  the  room,  when  I  said,  my  dear,  sister 
B****r,  is  come,  when  she  raised  her  feeble  and  trembling  arms, 
and  caught  her  round  the  neck  and  said,  "Sister  B****r,  have  you 
any  thing  against  me  ?"  when  she,  bathed  in  tears,  replied,  "  No, 
my  dear  sister  Clark,  I  never  had,  but  I  have  always  loved  you." 
"  Now,"  said  she,  "  I  can  die  in  peace,  but  not  before.  Oh  sister 
B****r  will  you  meet  me  in  glory  ?"  She  continued  in  this  happy 
state  of  mind  from  that  time  until  within  a  few  days  of  her  death, 
when  her  mind  for  a  short  time  appeared  to  be  oppressed  by  the 
tempter  of  souls.  At  this  time,  brother  Guest,  the  preacher  in 
charge  of  the  station,  called  in  to  see  her ;  after  which  her  mind  be- 
came composed  and  happy  in  God.  On  my  coming  into  the  room, 
she  said  to  me,  "  Oh  how  I  wish  to  die  and  to  be  with  Christ."  And 
although  tenderly  attached  to  her  children,  she  gave  them  up  into 
die  hands  of  her  God,  and  appeared  to  have  lost  sight  of  them  alto- 
gether; knowing  that  he,  into  whose  hands  she  had  committed  them, 
"  was  able  to  do  abundantly  above  all  that  she  could  ask  or  think," 
for  them.  The  evening  before  she  died,  she  said  to  me,  "  Unless  I 
get  better  I  shall  not  survive  till  morning ;  do  you  think  1  shall  ?"  to 
which  I  made  no  reply,  owing  to  the  feelings  of  my  heart  upon  the 
solemn  event  about  to  transpire.     Her  coughing  with  a  severe  vom- 


MRS.     JANE    CLARK,  5G7 

iting,  continued  from  this  time,  with  scarcely  any  intermission,  until 
within  a  few  minutes  before  she  died  ;  when  her  yielding  spirit  could 
say — 

"  Thee  will  I  love,  my  joy,  my  crown, 
Thee  will  I  love  my  Lord,  my  God, 
Thee  will  I  love,  beneath  thy  frown, 
Or  smile,  thy  sceptre  or  thy  rod. 
What  though  my  flesh  and  heart  decay, 
Thee  will  I  love  in  endless  day." 

About  half  past  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  she  complained  of 
the  dimness  of  her  sight.  A  few  minutes  before  she  died,  she  said 
to  me,  "  My  dear,  how  weak  I  feel,  I  am  almost  gone  ;"  she  then 
desired  to  be  raised  a  little  in  the  bed,  which  was  done  :  when  she 
said,  with  her  soul  transported  with  the  prospect  of  immortality  and 
eternal  life,  "  I  am  going  :"  and  as  she  uttered  these  words,  and 
while  the  balm  was  applied  to  her  lips,  her  head  reclined  in  the 
arms  of  sister  L******b,  and  her  anxious  spirit  took  its  flight  to  her 
God  and  Savior,  a  quarter  before  two  o'clock,  on  Wednesday  morn- 
ing, April  the  19th,  1826,  in  the  39th  year  of  her  age.  We  may 
now  adopt  the  language  of  the  poet  and  say — 

"  This  languishing  head  is  at  rest, 
Its  thinking  and  aching  is  o'er; 
This  quiet  immoveable  breast 
Is  heaved  by  affliction  no  more." 

From  the  Methodist  Magazine,  Vol.  10 — 1827,  for  which  it  was  written  by  he? 
husband. 


568 


MRS.   ELIZABETH  BISHOP. 


Mrs.  Bishop  was  a  native  of  Marlborough,  Mass.,  and  was  born 
in  June,  1798.  Her  family  name  was  Edwards.  She  was  early- 
deprived  of  both  her  parents  ;  her  father  having  died  before  she  was 
two  years  old,  and  her  mother  when  she  was  about  fourteen.  Left 
an  orphan  at  this  early  age,  she  became  dependent  for  support,  upon 
her  own  exertions.  At  this  trying  period  she  found  faithful  friends 
who  counselled  and  protected  her.  Of  their  kindness  she  was 
deeply  sensible,  and  repaid  it  with  gratitude  and  warm  affection. 
While  attending  school  at  Bradford,  she  became  decidedly  pious, 
and  was  ever  after  very  exemplary,  in  the  performance  of  all  reli- 
gious duties.  She  was  deeply  interested  in  the  cause  of  missions  ; 
and  though  she  felt  her  incompetency  to  engage  personally  in  a  work 
of  such  magnitude  as  missionary  labors  among  the  heathen,  yet 
when  that  seemed  to  become  her  duty,  she  would  cheerfully  yield 
up  herself  to  the  service.  Her  marriage  with  Mr.  Bishop,  and  em- 
barkation at  New  Haven,  Conn.,  for  the  Sandwich  Islands,  took 
place  in  November,  1822,  and  she  arrived  at  the  latter  place  in 
April  1823.     From  1824  till  her  decease  she  resided  at  Kairua. 

Mrs.  B.  was  possessed  of  a  very  cheerful  and  amiable  disposition 
and  strong  powers  of  mind.  She  also  possessed  a  great  desire  for 
intellectual  improvement,  and  carefully  availed  herself  of  every  op- 
portunity of  acquiring  knowledge.  She  was  uncommonly  persever- 
ing in  surmounting  difficulties  which  stood  in  her  path.  She  seems 
to  have  been  eminently  qualified  for  her  labors  among  the  heathen, 
and  secured  the  confidence  and  affection  of  all  her  brethren  and 
sisters  in  the  same  field.  That  she  was  much  beloved  by  the  peo- 
ple of  the  Islands,  appears  from  their  assiduous  attentions  during  her 
sickness.  She  was  peculiarly  successful  in  teaching  the  females  and 
gaining  their  affections. 

Mrs.  Bishop  was  taken  ill  in  August,  1827 ;  and  immediately  be- 
came unable  to  perform  the  ordinary  labors  in  her  family.  She 
seemed  at  first  to  suffer  from  no  particular  disease,  but  from  a  gene- 
ral debility,  with  occasional  slight  pains  in  different  parts  of  her  sys- 
tem. As  her  illness  increased,  various  remedies  were  resorted  toy 
without  giving  any  permanent  relief.  She  removed  into  the  moun- 
tains to  enjoy  the  cooler  and  purer  air ;  but  the  desired  effect  not 
being  produced,  she  accompanied  Mr.  Bishop  to  Honoruru,  on  the 
island  of  Oahu,  to  try  the  effect  of  a  voyage,  and  with  the  hope  also 
of  finding  at  that  island,  some  foreign  physician,  whose  advice  she 
might  avail  herself  of.     For  a  time  she  was  somewhat  benefited  by 


memoirs,  he.  569 

the  voyage  ;  and  Dr.  Ford,  of  the  English  whale  ship,  Elizabeth, 
and  the  surgeon  of  a  Russia  discovery  ship,  which  were  then  in  port, 
paid  the  kindest  attention  to  her  case,  until  they  perceived  that  their 
prescriptions  produced  little  or  no  good  effect.  They  pronounced 
her  disease  to  be  an  obstinate  dyspepsy.  After  spending  about  three 
months  at  Honoruru,  she  returned  to  Kairua.  In  the  mean  time 
her  debility  had  greatly  increased,  and  her  pains  had  become  exceed- 
ingly severe.  The  irritation  of  her  nervous  system,  had  become 
such,  that  the  slightest  noise  would  agitate  and  distress  her.  The 
voyage  to  Kairua  exhausted  her  still  more ;  and  after  her  arrival 
there,  she  wasted  away  rapidly.  While  at  Honoruru,  besides  the 
medical  aid  of  the  two  physicians  mentioned  above,  she  shared  in 
the  sympathy  and  care  of  the  mission  families  at  that  place ;  and 
while  at  Kairua  she  received  from  Mrs.  Thurston  the  kindest  atten- 
tion. The  native  females  of  both  places,  and  especially  the  latter, 
where  she  finished  her  course,  were  constantly  solicitious  to  testify 
their  esteem  and  affection.     Mr.  B.  remarks  on  this  point. — 

"  The  christian  females  in  this  place  were  not  backward  in  their  at- 
tentions at  this  hour  of  trial.  With  the  tenderest  sympathy  for  the 
sufferings  of  their  beloved  teacher,  they  vied  with  each  other,  who 
should  be  foremost  in  waiting  upon  her  and  administering  to  her 
comfort.  Two  in  rotation,  came  each  morning,  and  sat  by  her  bed- 
side through  the  day,  fanned  her,  bathed  her  aching  head  in  wa- 
ter, and  chafed  her  cold  limbs  with  their  hands :  thus  affording  the 
clearest  evidence,  that  her  labors  with  them  had  not  been  in  vain. 
After  I  had  become  nearly  exhausted  with  watchings  and  anxiety, 
they  continued  their  visits  during  the  night,  alternately  administering 
to  her  wants." 

All  hope  of  Mrs.  B.'s  recovery  died  away.  Her  strength  was 
exhausted  but  her  pains  were  not  mitigated.  She  bore  them,  how- 
ever, through  all  her  decline,  with  exemplary  patience  and  resigna- 
tion to  the  divine  will.  She  continued  to  grow  feeble,  until  the  %  1st 
of  February,  1828,  when  she  ceased  from  her  labors  and  sufferings 
on  earth,  to  enter  into  that  rest  which  remains  for  the  people  of  God. 
A  communication  from  her  husband  contains  a  statement  of  her  feel- 
ings in  view  of  approaching  death,  and  affords  ample  evidence  of 
her  humility,  the  high  standard  by  which  she  estimated  the  Christian 
character,  and  her  confidence  in  the  salvation  of  the  gospel. 

From  the  first  of  her  sickness,  Mrs.  Bishop  became  impressed 
with  the  belief,  that  she  had  not  long  to  live,  and  often  expressed  to 
me,  the  necessity  of  setting  her  house  in  order  for  the  event  of  death. 
At  that  time  I  considered  it  as  the  effect  of  melancholy,  brought  on 
by  anxiety  and  a  declining  state  of  health.  While  residing  at  Kua- 
hewa,  with  the  family  of  Mr.  Bingham,  she  one  day  walked  out  to 
a  solitary  spot,  where  she  supposed  no  human  footsteps  would  often 
tread,  and  selected  the  place  as  one  where  she  could  wish  to  repose 
after  her  decease. 

72 


570  MEMOIRS  OF 

She  was  constantly  impressed  with  a  sense  of  her  unfaithfulness, 
and  the  little  good  she  had  accomplished  during  the  few  years  of  her 
missionary  life,  and  often  prayed  that  she  might  be  spared  in  order 
to  make  amends  for  past  neglect.  As  I  may  have  occasion  fre- 
quently to  advert  to  the  low  estimation  in  which  she  held  her  services 
in  the  cause,  and  the  opinion,  which  she  entertained  at  times,  that 
her  neglect  of  the  heathen  had  even  been  a  reproach,  I  would  take 
this  occasion  to  bear  my  testimony,  in  accordance  with  my  brethren, 
that  her  active  mind  when  not  occupied  in  necessary  domestic  con- 
cerns was  ever  employed  in  doing  something  for  the  spiritual  or  tem- 
poral good  of  the  people  around  her.  She  was  daily  in  the  habit  of 
receiving  the  females  into  her  house,  to  instruct  them  in  reading, 
writing  and  domestic  arts.  And  the  reason  why  she  could  not  fully 
appreciate  this,  during  her  last  illness,  was  doubtless  owing  to  the 
melancholy  state  of  her  mind,  springing  out  of  her  disorder.  She 
was  never,  when  in  health,  prone  to  think  highly  of  her  religious 
attainments ;  but  possessing  the  highest  charity  for  others,  she  would 
often  propose  them  to  herself,  as  models  for  imitation.  She  never 
could  feel,  when  she  had  done  for  the  heathen  what  was  in  her  pow- 
er, that  she  had  so  done  her  duty,  as  to  merit  the  approbation  of  her 
Master.  In  health,  her  spirits  were  usually  buoyant  and  cheerful ; 
but  in  regard  to  her  religious  duties,  she  was  ever  humble,  and  sel- 
dom appealed  to  them,  as  an  evidence  of  her  piety.  She  often  used 
to  lament  that  she  could  find  no  secluded  spot  in  or  about  the  house 
where  she  could  retire  at  stated  seasons  for  secret  devotion ;  and 
gave  that  as  a  reason  why  she  had  no  more  religious  enjoyment. 
But  in  her  late  sickness,  the  thought  that  she  had  not  always  been 
punctual  in  the  secret  duties  of  the  closet,  gave  her  the  deepest  sor- 
row. Often  she  would  in  the  most  solemn  manner  charge  me,  as  I 
valued  my  peace  of  conscience,  and  desired  to  avoid  the  pangs  of 
remorse  on  a  dying  bed,  to  be  ever  punctual  in  secret  devotions. 
She  desired  me  also  to  tell  it  to  others,  when  she  was  gone,  that 
they  too  might  learn  from  her  to  avoid  what  she  then  suffered.  It 
may  be  proper  to  remark  here,  that  in  the  duties  of  the  closet,  her 
conscience  was  ever  tender ;  and  in  my  opinion,  she  did  always  en- 
deavor to  be  punctual  in  this  respect :  but  it  is  probable  that  the  duty 
was  sometimes  omitted  by  her,  owing  to  the  interruptions  to  which 
she  was  subjected  every  hour  in  the  day,  by  the  intrusion  of  natives 
into  a  house,  where  there  is  no  upper  chamber,  or  inner  door,  un- 
less a  curtain  may  be  so  called. 

Mrs.  B.  was  one  who  ever  felt  the  most  lively  concern  for  the 
welfare  of  her  children,  situated  in  this  land  of  strangers,  and  wit- 
nessing the  corrupt  manners  that  surrounded  them.  It  was  one 
great  burden  of  her  daily  prayers,  that  they  might  be  preserved  from 
the  influence  of  pernicious  examples.  It  can  well  be  imagined, 
therefore,  what  must  have  been  her  feelings,  in  the  prospect  of  leav- 
ing them  in  their  infantile  state.     Many  Meed  were  the  tears  which 


MRS.    ELIZABETH    BISHOP.  571 

she  shed,  and  the  prayers  which  she  offered  up  on  their  behalf,  that 
if  possible  her  life  might  be  spared  for  their  sakes.  But  God  was 
gracious  to  her  in  this  also,  and  gave  her  strength  to  resign  them  into 
his  hands,  and  assurance  that  he  would  raise  up  kind  friends  to  pro- 
vide for  them,  when  she  was  no  more.  I  was  both  much  surprised 
and  comforted  to  find  her,  who  had  scarcely  been  absent  from  them 
one  hour,  so  willing  to  commit  them  to  the  future  care  of  others 
whom  she  knew  not,  assured  that  God  would  be  their  protector  and 
better  portion. 

It  was  a  source  of  great  grief  to  her  mind,  that  she  could  find  no 
one  of  all  that  visited  her  in  her  sickness,  who  seemed  to  think  with 
her,  that  she  would  not  recover.  The  subject  of  death  was  one  upon 
which  she  desired  to  converse  often  ;  but  those  with  whom  she  spoke 
on  the  subject,  felt  that  such  an  event  was  improbable ;  and  instead 
of  sympathising  in  her  feelings,  would  usually  request  her  for  the 
sake  of  her  health,  not  to  indulge  in  those  reflections,  for  there  was 
no  probability  that  she  would  die  under  this  complaint.  "  It  is  try- 
ing," she  would  reply,  "  that  none  can  be  found  who  feel  with  me 
that  death  is  nigh  :  but,"  she  would  add,  "  it  is  all  right :  I  must 
pass  the  Jordan  of  death  alone  :  there  none  can  bear  me  company, 
and  why  not  learn  the  way  alone,  since  it  is  the  will  of  my  heavenly 
Father."  Indeed  it  was  our  ignorance  of  the  full  extent  of  her  dis- 
order, supposing  it  was  dyspepsy  merely,  that  induced  us  all  to  think 
that  her  sickness  though  severe,  would  eventuate  in  her  restoration 
to  health.  But  no  assurances  from  physicians  or  friends  could  alter 
her  views  of  this  subject:  she  would  lay  her  hand  upon  her  heart 
and  say  "  here  it  is ;  I  feel  that  death  is  near  and  has  already  be- 
gun his  work.  The  sensations  of  my  own  breast  tell  me  that  I  shall 
not  recover." 

She  would  often  express  the  liveliest  gratitude  to  those  who  atten- 
ded upon  her  to  administer  to  her  comfort.  "  May  the  Lord  bless 
you,"  she  would  say,  "  I  am  not  worthy  of  your  kindness,  nor  can  I 
ever  repay  you;  but  I  pray  God  to  bless  you,  and  reward  you. 
Should  I  recover,  I  am  sure  I  should  be  willing  to  wash  the  feet  of 
you  all."  At  other  times  she  would  say,  "  O  you  know  not  how  it 
humbles  me  to  see  your  concern  for  one  so  unworthy:  if  you  knew 
but  half  of  my  sins,  you  would  not,  I  am  sure  you  could  not,  waste 
your  precious  time  upon  me  so  undeserving."  But  the  greatest 
grief  of  all,  and  that  which  caused  her  deep  humiliation  of  heart, 
was,  that  I  should  be  called  from  my  appropriate  work  to  attend  up- 
on her.  "  When  souls  are  perishing  for  lack  of  knowledge,"  she 
would  say  to  me,  "  is  it  right  that  you  should  forsake  your  work  of 
preaching  and  translating  the  Word  of  God,  to  attend  upon  me,  who 
have  merited  nothing  but  displeasure  from  the  hands  of  my  heavenly 
father  ?  I  fear  I  am  answerable  for  all  this."  When  I  assured  her  it 
was  not  so;  that  she  was  not  more  answerable  for  my  attendance  up- 
on her,  than  she  was  accountable  for  her  illness,  she  replied,,  "I  fear 


572  MEMOIRS    OF 

that  it  is  my  own  imprudence  that  has  brought  me  here ;  and  if  so,  am 
I  not  accountable  for  the  consequences  ?" 

In  all  her  religious  views,  even  in  the  darkest  hours,  I  observed 
that  her  faith  in  the  word  and  Providence  of  God,  in  the  fulness 
and  all-sufficiency  of  the  Savior,  remained  unshaken.  She  felt  no 
doubts  concerning  the  truth  of  what  God  had  revealed  :  there  all  was 
clear,  and  the  only  difficulty  that  remained  was,  the  inability  to  ap- 
propriate the  promises  to  her  own  case.  During  the  hours  of  her 
spiritual  darkness,  it  was  truly  edifying  to  see  with  what  earnestness 
she  sought  after  the  evidences  of  a  true  faith,  and  with  what  jealousy 
she  watched  over  her  heart  and  conscience,  lest  she  might  mistake  the 
shadow,  and  lose  sight  of  the  reality.  "  This,"  she  would  say,  "  is 
not  an  hour  for  me  to  sit  down  and  be  satisfied  with  past  attainments, 
and  past  experience  :  I  must  go  back  again  to  the  first  principles  of 
faith  :  I  must  feel  something  more  than  the  hope  arising  from  what 
I  have  done  :  I  must  have  stronger  evidence  of  acceptance  than  that 
arising  from  love  to  the  brethren.  My  love  to  them  may  have  been 
only  natural  affection,  common  to  all  towards  those  with  whom  they 
associate,  and  with  whom  they  are  in  the  interchange  of  kind  offices. 
I  must  feel  the  spirit  of  Christ  within  me,  subduing  my  sinful  heart 
and  implanting  holy  affections,  and  an  overcoming  faith." 

These  seasons  of  doubts  and  fears,  and  expressions  of  great  con- 
cern lest  her  religion  had  been  hypocritical,  used  regularly  to  return 
with  the  paroxysms  of  her  disorder :  but  as  these  passed  away,  her 
mind  would  again  become  tranquil,  and  hope  would  again  revive. 
Still  there  was  no  ecstasy,  no  assurance  that  her  foundation  stood 
strong :  it  was  the  trembling  hope  of  one  who  felt  that  pardon 
was  wholly  unmerited,  and  granted  solely  for  the  sake  of  Christ. 

After  her  return  from  Oahu  to  Kairua,  and  while  sinking  fast  to- 
wards the  grave,  her  mind  was  more  at  rest.  The  fears  and  doubts 
that  had  so  distracted  her  mind,  passed  away,  and  cheerful  hope 
succeeded  in  their  stead.  She  would  often  say,  "  I  feel  that  Jesus 
is  mine  ;  that  he  has  accepted  me,  and  will  take  me  to  himself,  when 
I  go  hence."  She  spent  much  time,  during  the  intervals  of  pain,  in 
prayer  for  herself,  her  husband  and  children,  her  brethren  and  sisters 
of  this  mission,  and  for  the  whole  church  of  God.  It  was  at  this 
time,  that  the  pains,  which  heretofore  had  been  confined  to  her  body 
and  limbs,  attacked  her  head,  and  at  times  almost  deprived  her  of 
reason.  She  had  often  expressed  her  thankfulness,  that  in  all  the 
pain  she  endured,  her  head  had  been  quite  free  ;  but  now  the  trial 
of  her  patience  was  come.  Agonies  to  which  she  had  before  been  a 
stranger,  racked  her  brain.  We  bathed  her  head  in  cold  water 
night  and  day,  and  some  one  constantly  held  it  with  both  hands,  "  to 
keep  it,"  as  she  expressed  it  "  from  falling  to  pieces."  She  had 
often  expressed  to  me  a  desire  to  remove  into  the  country,  where 
she  -thought  the  cold  air  and  bathing  her  temples  in  the  mountain 
water  would  give  her  some  relief.     We  felt  the  difficulty  of  making 


MRS.     ELIZABETH     BISHOP.  573 

the  attempt :  for  at  this  time  she  was  exceedingly  reduced,  and 
could  not  even  turn  herself  in  bed.  She  was  accustomed  to  be  laid 
upon  a  litter  every  morning  and  evening,  and  carried  out  by  two  men 
to  take  an  airing.  One  morning,  during  her  usual  airing,  she  ordered 
her  bearers  to  ascend  with  her  toward  the  mountain.  They  did  so, 
bore  her  nearly  half  the  way  thither,  and  then  returned.  On  her 
arrival  she  expressed  herself  refreshed  by  the  excursion.  The  next 
morning,  therefore,  we  undertook  to  remove  her  on  her  litter ;  and 
much  to  our  satisfaction,  she  endured  the  excursion  with  little  fa- 
tigue. She  remained  in  the  country  six  days,  but  she  suffered  al- 
most incredibly  from  the  effect  of  the  cold  nights  upon  her  emaciated 
frame ;  so  that  the  object  after  which  we  sought,  was  defeated. 

It  was  while  in  the  country,  separated  from  the  society  of  every 
brother  and  sister,  and  in  the  near  prospect  of  eternity,  that  she 
seemed  to  gird  on  anew  her  armor  for  the  coming  foe.  I  had  until 
this  time  indulged  hopes,  that  by  the  blessing  of  God,  she  might 
eventually  recover,  but  these  hopes  had  for  sometime  been  dimin- 
ishing, and  now  they  were  quite  gone.  The  pallid,  sunken  cheek, 
the  hollow  eye,  the  diminished  pulse,  and  wandering  reason,  evinced 
clearly  to  my  mind,  that  death  was  near.  When  I  informed  her  of 
my  apprehensions,  she  seemed  relieved  in  her  mind,  and  replied,  "It 
is  well :  death  has  no  terrors  :  it  is  what  I  have  long  looked  and  wait- 
ed for,  as  a  release  from  the  pains  that  assail  my  frame.  I  have 
long  given  up  all  thoughts  of  recovery,  and  death  only  appears  de- 
sirable. And  you,  my  dear  husband,"  she  added,  "  the  Lord  will 
comfort  and  bless  you  under  your  bereavement,  and  give  you  many 
souls  for  your  hire.  Remember  the  promise,  "  they  that  go  forth 
weeping,  bearing  precious  seed,  shall  return  again  rejoicing,  bringing 
their  sheaves  with  them."  Take  care  to  continue  faithful,  steadfast, 
and  abounding  in  the  work  of  the  Lord,  and  this  promise  is  yours." 
A  little  after,  having  lain  some  time  with  her  eyes  closed,  she  opened 
them  and  said  to  me,  "  I  have  been  praying  for  an  overcoming  faith, 
that  1  may  come  off  a  conqueror  in  the  hour  of  conflict.  Pray  for 
me,  O  pray  for  me,  that  the  everlasting  arms  may  be  my  support, 
when  heart  and  flesh  shall  fail."  She  then  desired  me  to  sing  to 
her  the  words  of  the  dying  Christian,  "  Vital  spark  of  heavenly 
flame,"  &c. 

I  had  scarcely  commenced,  when  she  interrupted  me  by  saying 
that  her  nerves  could  not  bear  singing,  and  requested  me  only  to  re- 
peat it.  After  I  had  finished,  and  asked  her  how  she  felt,  I  found 
that  her  reason  was  again  wandering,  and  I  said  no  more. 

At  another  time,  during  an  interval  of  pain,  she  spoke  to  me  of 
her  children  now  about  to  be  left  orphans.  She  said  she  had  resign- 
ed them  into  the  hands  of  God  ;  charged  me  to  be  kind  to  them, 
and  to  leave  no  suitable  means  untried  to  procure  for  them  a  good 
home  in  America.  "  I,  also,"  she  added,  "  was  once  an  orphan, 
and  know  too  well  the  ills  of  orphanage  not  to  be   solicitous  for  my 


574  memoirs,  he. 

dear  children."  It  was  about  this  time,  as  near  as  I  remember,  that 
I  asked  her  whether  she  had  any  message  to  leave  in  my  charge  to 
her  friends,  either  here,  or  in  America.  "  Yes,"  she  replied,  "  tell 
my  brethren  and  sisters  of  the  mission,  that  I  love  them  unto  the 
end  ;  that  I  have  nothing  to  bestow  in  return  for  their  kindness  to 
me,  but  my  thanks  and  my  prayers  for  their  prosperity  in  their  labor 
of  love.  Tell  my  dear  American  friends,  that  they  will  neither  see, 
nor  hear  from  me  again  in  this  life,  but  that  1  hope  hereafter  to  meet 
them  again,  to  part  no  more  forever.  And  tell  my  dear  pupils  at 
Kairua,  that  after  a  few  days,  they  will  see  me  no  more  ;  but  that 
it  was  my  hope  to  live  long,  and  have  met  with  them  for  many  days 
to  come.  Tell  them  to  forgive  whatever  they  have  seen  in  me,  that 
they  thought  amiss :  to  listen  to  the  words  of  their  teachers,  and 
above  all,  to  seek  earnestly  after  the  word  of  life  and  the  way  of  sal- 
vation :  to  hold  fast  to  the  right  way  unto  the  end.  Charge  them  to 
remember  my  dying  words  that  we  may  all  meet  again  in  heaven." 

About  one  week  before  her  death,  when  revived  a  little,  after  a 
season  of  great  exhaustion  and  fatigue,  she  called  for  her  children. 
When  they  were  brought,  she  laid  her  emaciated  hands  upon  the  head 
of  each  and  said,  "  The  Lord  shield  this  defenceless  head  under- 
neath the  shadow  of  his  wings."     She  then  kissed  them  and  wept. 

Each  day  now  presented  some  new  symptom  of  approaching  dis- 
solution. Three  days  before  her  departure,  she  became  entirely 
bereft  of  her  reason,  and  ceased  to  know  her  friends  and  attendants. 
About  the  middle  of  the  night  when  the  afflictive  event  took  place,  I 
seated  myself  by  her.  The  pulse  by  this  time  was  scarcely  per- 
ceptible. I  held  her  cold  hand  in  mine  for  some  time,  when  I  heard 
her  say,  in  a  broken,  inarticulate  voice,  "  Let  me  depart  in  peace." 
Thinking  she  might  wish  me  to  leave  her  a  little  to  quietude,  I  re- 
moved my  chair  to  the  door,  and  thought  upon  the  glories  that  would 
open  on  her  soul,  when  released  from  its  crumbling  tenement.  In  a 
little  time,  I  inquired  of  the  female  attendants  bow  she  appeared  ; 
and  they  motioned  to  me  that  she  was  asleep.  I  immediately  caught 
a  lamp  and  hastened  to  her  ;  but  she  was  gone.  Without  a  struggle 
or  a  groan,  she  gently  breathed  forth  her  spirit  into  the  arms  of  her 
Savior. 

The  funeral  services  were  attended  on  the  Saturday  morning  fol- 
lowing, when  a  numerous  procession  of  females  all  dressed  in 
mourning  followed  her  to  the  grave.  She  rests  in  peace,  in  the 
church-yard,  there  to  await  the  joyful  summons  of  the  last  trumpet, 
to  rise  and  ascend  to  the  bosom  of  the  Savior,  whom  she  served  and 
owned  on  earth. 

From  the  Missionary  Herald,  Vol.  25—1829. 


575 


MRS.   ANN  HASSELTINE  JUDSON* 


Mrs.  Jddson  was  the  daughter  of  Mr.  John  and  Mrs.  Rebecca 
Hasseltine,  and  was  born  December  22,  1789,  at  Bradford,  Massa- 
chusetts. 

In  her  earliest  years,  she  was  distinguished  by  activity  of  mind, 
extreme  gayety,  a  strong  relish  for  social  amusements,  and  unusually 
ardent  feelings.  She  possessed  that  spirit  of  enterprise,  that  fertility 
in  devising  plans  for  the  attainment  of  her  wishes,  and  that  indefati- 
gable perseverance  in  the  pursuit  of  her  purposes,  of  which  her  sub- 
sequent life  furnished  so  many  examples,  and  created  so  frequent 
occasions.  Her  restless  spirit,  while  a  child,  was  often  restrained  by 
her  mother  ;  and  the  salutary  prohibitions  which  this  excellent  parent 
was  sometimes  forced  to  impose,  occasioned  so  much  grief,  that  Mrs. 
Hasseltine  once  said  to  her,  "  I  hope,  my  daughter,  you  will  one  day 
be  satisfied  with  rambling." 

An  eager  thirst  for  knowledge  is  commonly  the  attendant,  and 
often  the  parent  of  a  restless,  enterprising  disposition.  It  was  so  in 
the  case  of  Mrs.  Judson.  She  loved  learning,  and  a  book  could 
allure  her  from  her  favorite  walks,  and  from  the  gayest  social  circle. 
The  desire  for  knowledge  is  often  found  in  connexion  with  moderate 
intellectual  faculties ;  and  in  such  cases,  with  favorable  opportunities, 
the  individual  may  make  a  respectable  proficiency  in  learning.  But 
this  desire  is  almost  invariably  an  attribute  of  eminent  mental  powers  t 
and  the  person  thus  happily  endowed,  needs  nothing  but  industry 
and  adequate  means,  to  ensure  the  attainment  of  the  highest  degree 
of  literary  excellence. 

Mrs.  Judson's  mind  was  of  a  superior  order.  It  was  distinguished 
by  strength,  activity,  and  clearness.  She  has,  indeed,  left  no  memo- 
rials, which  can  be  produced,  as  fair  specimens  of  her  talents  and 
literary  acquirements.  She  wrote  much,  but  her  writings  have  per- 
ished, except  letters  and  accounts  of  missionary  proceedings,  written 
without  any  design  to  exhibit  her  abilities,  or  display  her  learning. 
But  no  one  can  review  her  life,  and  read  what  she  has  written  and 
published,  without  feeling  that  her  mind  possessed  unusual  vigor  and 
cultivation. 

She  was  educated  at  the  Academy  in  Bradford,  a  seminary  which 
has  become  hallowed  by  her  memory,  and  by  that  of  Mrs.  Newell, 
the  proto-martyr  of  the  American  Missions.  Here  she  pursued  her 
studies  with  much  success.  Her  perceptions  were  rapid,  her  mem- 
ory retentive,  and  her  perseverance  indefatigable.  Here  she  laid 
the  foundations  of  her  knowledge,  and  here  her  intellect  was  stimu- 


576  MEMOIRS  OF 

lated,  disciplined  and  directed.  Her  preceptors  and  associates  ever 
regarded  her  with  respect  and  esteem :  and  considered  her  ardent 
temperament,  her  decision  and  perseverance,  and  her  strength  of 
mind,  as  ominous  of  some  uncommon  destiny. 

At  this  seminary,  hallowed  as  the  place  where  others  of  the  emi- 
nent of  her  sex  have  caught  the  first  rays  of  light  which  they  after- 
wards scattered  so  far,  she  too  first  sought  and  found  a  Savior.  In 
the  revival  at  Bradford  in  1806,  already  noticed  in  the  life  of  Mrs. 
Newell,  she  was  roused  to  a  sense  of  her  danger,  and  after  many 
days  of  deep  distress  under  a  strong  conviction  of  sin,  she  finally  ob- 
tained a  good  hope,  through  grace,  of  that  salvation  which  is  by  Jesus 
Christ  alone.  In  the  account  of  her  religious  experience,  recorded 
in  her  private  journals,  she  thus  expresses  her  feelings  after  her 
conversion. 

"  I  now  began  to  hope,  that  I  had  passed  from  death  unto  life. 
When  I  examined  myself,  I  was  constrained  to  own,  that  I  had  feel- 
ings and  dispositions,  to  which  I  was  formerly  an  utter  stranger.  I 
had  sweet  communion  with  the  blessed  God,  from  day  to  day ;  my 
heart  was  drawn  out  in  love  to  Christians  of  whatever  denomination  ; 
the  sacred  Scriptures  were  sweet  to  my  taste ;  and  such  was  my  thirst 
for  religious  knowledge,  that  I  frequently  spent  a  great  part  of  the 
night  in  reading  religious  books. 

"  Sin,  in  myself  and  others,  appeared  as  that  abominable  thing, 
which  a  holy  God  hates — and  I  earnestly  strove  to  avoid  sinning,  not 
merely  because  I  was  afraid  of  hell,  but  because  I  feared  to  displease 
God,  and  grieve  his  Holy  Spirit.  I  attended  my  studies  in  school* 
with  far  different  feelings  and  different  motives,  from  what  I  had  ever 
done  before.  I  felt  my  obligation  to  improve  all  I  had  to  the  glory 
of  God  ;  and  since  he  in  his  providence  had  favored  me  with  advan- 
tages for  improving  my  mind,  I  felt  that  I  should  be  like  the  slothful 
servant,  if  I  neglected  them.  I  therefore  diligently  employed  all 
my  hours  in  school,  in  acquiring  useful  knowledge,  and  spent  my 
evenings,  and  part  of  the  night  in  spiritual  enjoyments. 

"  While  thus  recounting  the  mercies  of  God  to  my  soul,  I  am  par- 
ticularly affected  by  two  considerations ;  the  richness  of  that  grace, 
which  called  and  stopped  me  in  my  dangerous  course,  and  the  un- 
grateful returns  I  make  for  so  distinguished  a  blessing.  I  am  prone 
to  forget  the  voice  which  called  me  out  of  darkness  into  light,  and 
the  hand  which  drew  me  from  the  horrible  pit  and  miry  clay.  When 
I  first  discerned  my  Deliverer,  my  grateful  heart  offered  him  the 
services  of  a  whole  life,  and  resolved  to  acknowledge  no  other  mas- 
ter. But  such  is  the  force  of  my  native  depravity,  that  I  find  my- 
self prone  to  forsake  him,  grieve  away  his  influence  from  my  heart, 
and  walk  in  the  dark  and  dreary  path  of  the  backslider.  I  despair 
of  making  great  attainments  in  the  divine  life,  and  look  forward  to 
death  only,  to  free  me  from  my  sins  and  corruptions.  Till  that  bless- 
ed period,  that  hour  of  my  emancipation,  I  am  resolved,  through  the 


MRS.  ANN  HASSELTINE  JUDSON,  577 

grace  and  strength  of  my  Redeemer,  to  maintain  a  constant  warfare 
with  my  inbred  sins,  and  endeavor  to  perform  the  duties  incumbent 
on  me,  in  whatever  situation  I  may  be  placed. 

'  Safely  guide  my  wandering  feet, 
Travelling  in  this  vale  of  tears ; 
Dearest  Savior,  to  thy  seat 
Lead,  and  dissipate  my  fears.' " 

The  change  in  her  feelings  and  views,  which  she  has  thus  deseri- 
bed,  was  a  thorough  and  permanent  one.  She  immediately  entered 
on  the  duties,  and  sought  for  the  pleasures,  of  religion,  with  all  the 
ardor  of  her  natural  character. 

Mrs.  Judson,  early  in  •  her  religious  life,  showed  her  desire  to  be 
useful  to  her  fellow  men.  Her  active  mind  was  not  satisfied  without 
some  effort  to  benefit  those  around  her.  She  accordingly  engaged, 
soon  after  this  period,  in  the  occupation  of  instructing  a  school,  im- 
pelled mainly  by  the  desire  to  be  useful.  There  are  few  situations, 
which  furnish  better  opportunities  of  imparting  permanent  benefit, 
than  that  of  the  instructor  of  a  school.  In  New  England,  this  office 
is  regarded  with  a  good  degree  of  the  honorable  estimation  to  which 
it  is  entitled  ;  and  it  is  to  be  wished,  that  a  larger  number  of  educated 
young  ladies  would  employ  themselves  in  a  service  so  beneficial  to 
their  own  minds,  and  so  vitally  important  to  the  rising  generation. 

The  following  extract  from  Mrs.  Judson's  journal,  dated  May  12, 
1807,  shows  the  conscientious  principles  which  actuated  her;  and 
proves  that  her  mind  was  thus  early  swayed  by  the  resolution  to  live 
not  unto  herself,  but  to  Him  who  died  for  her,  and  rose  again.  Her 
zeal  for  the  spiritual  welfare  of  others,  and  her  decision  of  character, 
are  here  seen,  in  a  very  striking  light. 

"  Have  taken  charge  of  a  few  scholars.  Ever  since  I  have  had  a 
comfortable  hope  in  Christ,  I  have  desired  to  devote  myself  to  him, 
in  such  a  way,  as  to  be  useiul  to  my  fellow  creatures.  As  Provi- 
dence has  placed  me  in  a  situation  of  life,  where  I  have  an  opportu- 
nity of  getting  as  good  an  education  as  I  desire,  I  feel  it  would  be 
highly  criminal  in  me  not  to  improve  it.  I  feel,  also,  that  it  would 
be  equally  criminal  to  desire  to  be  well  educated  and  accomplished, 
from  selfish  motives,  with  a  view  merely  to  gratify  my  taste  and  rel- 
ish for  improvement,  or  my  pride  in  being  qualified  to  shine.  I 
therefore  resolved  last  winter,  to  attend  the  Academy,  from  no  other 
motive,  than  to  improve  the  talents  bestowed  by  God,  so  as  to  be 
more  extensively  devoted  to  his  glory,  and  the  benefit  of  my  fellow 
creatures.  On  being  lately  requested  to  take  a  small  school,  for  a 
few  months,  I  felt  very  unqualified  to  have  the  charge  of  little  im- 
mortal souls ;  but  the  hope  of  doing  them  good,  by  endeavoring  to 
impress  their  young  and  tender  minds  with  divine  truth,  and  the  ob- 
ligation I  feel,  to  try  to  be  useful,  have  induced  me  to  comply.  I  was 
enabled  to  open  the  school  with  prayer.  Though  the  cross  was  very 
great,  T  felt  constrained,  by  a  sense  of  duty,  to  take  it  up.     The  lit- 

73 


578  MEMOIRS  OF 

tie  creatures  seemed  astonished  at  such  a  beginning.  Probably- 
some  of  them  had  never  heard  a  prayer  before.  O  may  I  have 
grace  to  be  faithful  in  instructing  these  little  immortals,  in  such  a 
way  as  shall  be  pleasing  to  my  heavenly  Father." 

She  was  engaged,  at  intervals,  for  several  years,  in  teaching  schools 
in  different  towns.  She  was  always  diligent  and  faithful  in  her  en- 
deavors to  enlighten  the  minds  and  to  form  the  manners  of  her  pupils  ; 
but  she  regarded  the  fear  of  the  Lord  as  the  beginning  of  wisdom; 
and  she  strove  to  guide  her  dear  pupils  to  the  Savior.  She  felt  her- 
self to  be  intrusted,  in  some  measure,  with  the  charge  of  their  souls  ; 
and  she  watched  for  them  as  one  that  must  give  an  account. 

In  June,  1810,  Miss  Hasseltine  became  acquainted  with  Mr. 
Adoniram  Judson,  who  was  then  a  candidate  for  a  mission  to  the 
heathen.  The  result  of  this  acquaintance  in  a  short  time,  was  an 
offer  of  marriage  on  his  part,  including  of  course  a  proposition  to 
her,  to  accompany  him  on  his  missionary  enterprise. 

She  was  thus  placed  in  a  situation  of  peculiar  difficulty  and  deli- 
cacy. The  influence  which  her  affections  ought  to  have,  in  decid- 
ing a  question  of  this  kind,  it  would  not,  in  ordinary  cases,  have  been 
difficult  to  determine.  But  in  this  case,  her  embarrassment  was  in- 
creased, by  the  conflict  which  might  arise  between  affection  and 
duty.  A  person  so  conscientious  as  she  was,  would  wish  to  form  a 
decision  on  the  important  question  of  her  duty,  respecting  missionary 
labors,  uninfluenced  by  any  personal  considerations.  Hesitation  to 
assume  an  office  so  responsible,  and  so  arduous,  would  spring  up  in 
any  mind  ;  but  Miss  Hasseltine  was  required  to  decide  on  the  point, 
in  connection  with  another,  itself  of  the  utmost  consequence  to  her 
individual  happiness.  It  was  impossible  to  divest  herself  of  her  per- 
sonal feelings  ;  and  she  might  have  some  painful  suspicions,  lest  her 
affections  might  bias  her  decision  to  become  a  Missionary ;  while 
female  delicacy  and  honor  would  forbid  her  to  bestow  her  hand, 
merely  as  a  preliminary  and  necessary  arrangement. 

There  was  another  circumstance  which  greatly  increased  the  diffi- 
culty of  a  decision.  No  female  had  ever  left  America  as  a  Mis- 
sionary to  the  heathen.  The  general  opinion  was  decidedly  opposed 
to  the  measure.  It  was  deemed  wild  and  romantic  in  the  extreme, 
and  altogether  inconsistent  with  prudence  and  delicacy.  Miss  H. 
had  no  example  to  guide  and  allure  her.  She  met  with  no  encour- 
agement from  a  greater  part  of  those  persons,  to  whom  she  applied 
for  counsel.  Some  expressed  strong  disapprobation  of  the  project. 
Others  would  give  no  opinion.  Two  or  three  individuals,  whom  it 
might  not  be  proper  to  name,  were  steady,  affectionate  advisers,  and 
encouraged  her  to  go.  With  these  exceptions,  she  was  forced  to 
decide  from  her  own  convictions  of  duty,  and  her  own  sense  of  fitness 
and  expediency.* 


*  The  remark  of  one  lady  respecting  Mrs.  J.  would  express  the  feelings  of  many 
others,     "  I  hear,"  said  she,  "  that  Miss  H.  is  going  to  India,     Why  does  she  go  ?** 


MRS.  ANN  HASSELT1NE  JUDSON.  579 

It  was  well  for  the  cause  of  Missions,  that  God  assigned  to  Miss 
Hasseltine  the  honorable,  yet  difficult  office  of  leading  the  way  in  this 
great  enterprise.  Her  adventurous  spirit  and  decision  of  character 
eminently  fitted  her  to  resolve,  where  others  would  hesitate,  and  to 
advance,  where  others  might  retreat.  She  did  decide  to  go,  and 
her  determination,  without  doubt,  has  had  some  effect  on  the  minds 
q[  other  females,  who  have  since  followed  her  example. 

The  resolution  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson,  to  devote  themselves  to 
the  service  of  their  Savior  as  Missionaries,  was  not  formed  in  the  ar- 
dor of  youthful  enthusiasm.  It  was  not  the  impulse  of  an  adven- 
turous spirit,  panting  for  scenes  of  difficulty  and  danger.  They  had 
cherished  no  romantic  views  of  the  missionary  enterprise.  They  had 
calmly  estimated  its  hazards  and  its  toils.  They  foresaw  what  it 
would  cost  them,  and  the  issue  to  which  it  would  probably  lead  them 
both.  They  knew  well  what  they  must  do  and  suffer  ;  and  they 
yielded  themselves  as  willing  sacrifices,  for  the  sake  of  the  far  distant 
heathen. 

They  were  married  on  the  fifth  of  February,  1812,  and  on  the 
next  day  he  was  ordained  to  the  work  of  evangelizing  the  heathen, 
with  his  brethren  in  the  mission.  Soon  after,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson 
sailed  in  the  same  vessel  with  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Newell,  to  Calcutta. 
On  their  arrival  at  Calcutta,  the  difficulties  already  alluded  to  in  the 
life  of  Mrs.  Newell,  prevented  a  permanent  missionary  establish- 
ment in  that  part  of  India.  After  the  departure  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Newell  for  the  Isle  of  France,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson,  resided  in  Cal- 
cutta two  months,  during  which  time,  from  a  serious  consideration  of 
the  subject,  they  were  led  to  renounce  some  of  their  former  religious 
tenets  and  to  adopt  the  opinions  of  the  Baptists.  In  consequence  of 
this  change,  their  connection  with  the  American  Board  of  Commis- 
sioners for  Foreign  Missions,  was  necessarily  dissolved,  and  they, 
with  Mr.  Rice,  another  missionary,  who  had  altered  his  sentiments, 
were  compelled  to  look  to  some  other  quarter  for  support.  Mr. 
Rice  returned  to  the  United  States,  and  by  his  efforts,  and  earnest 
appeals,  a  large  portion  of  the  Baptist  denomination  were  roused  to 
action  in  the  cause  of  Missions,  so  that  a  Baptist  General  Convention 
was  soon  organized,  and  a  Board  of  Missions  appointed,  under  whose 
patronage  Messrs.  Rice  and  Judson  were  called  to  labor,  with  liberty 
to  choose  the  field.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Judson  had  removed  to  the  Isle 
of  France  with  Mr.  Rice,  before  his  departure  to  the  United  States, 
and  there  they  remained  till  May,  1813,  when  they  sailed  for  Mad- 
ras, hoping  there  to  find  a  passage  to  the  island  of  Penang,  on  the 
coast  of  Malacca,  where  they  intended  to  labor  among  the  heathen 
natives.     On  their  arrival  at  Madras  however,  they  were  unable  to 


««  Why,  she  thinks  it  her  duty;  would  not  you  go,  if  you  thought  it  your  duty  !" 
"  But,"  replied  the  good  lady,  with  emphasis,  "  I  would  not  think  it  my  duty" 
Many  questions  of  duty,  it  may  be  suspected,  are  decided  in  this  summary  manner. 


580  MEMOIRS,    &C. 

obtain  a  passage  to  Penang,  and  at  length  sailed  to  Rangoon  in 
Burmah,  which  thenceforth,  became  the  scene  of  their  missionary 
labors.  Here  unfriended  and  alone,  they  commenced  their  no- 
ble work  in  July,  1813;  and  as  their  prospects  opened  before 
them,  they  felt  a  momentary  gloom  and  dejection  at  the  darkness  of 
the  future.  But  they  were  not  left  despairing.  Their  helper  God, 
in  whom  they  had  trusted,  was  present  still,  upholding  them  by  the 
consolations  of  his  grace  in  that  dark  hour  of  trial,  and  by  the  sure 
promise  of  his  aid  through  all  their  labors  yet  to  come.  There  the 
missionaries  labored  through  dangers  and  trials  for  six  years,  before 
their  hearts  were  gladdened  by  the  conversion  of  a  single  Burman. 
And  at  length  when  their  labors  were  rewarded  by  success,  the  con- 
verts were  few  and  feeble ;  but  still  they  neither  despaired  nor  de- 
sisted while  life  or  strength  lasted. 

The  health  of  Mrs.  Judson  was  considerably  enfeebled  by  the  cli- 
mate of  Burmah  and  her  labors,  so  that  it  was  found  necessary  for  her 
in  the  latter  part  of  the  year  ]  821,  to  revisit  her  native  country.  Be- 
fore coming  to  the  United  States,  she  passed  some  time  in  England, 
where  she  was  received  with  the  kindest  attention  by  many  of  the 
friends  of  Missions.  After  a  stay  of  some  months  she  went  over  to 
America,  where  she  spent  more  than  half  a  year,  surrounded  by 
Christian  friends.  Her  health  being  in  a  great  measure  restored  by 
repose  in  her  natural  climate,  in  the  summer  of  1823,  she  sailed  for 
India,  and  in  December  rejoined  her  husband  at  Rangoon. 

During  the  war  between  the  Burmans  and  the  British,  which  was 
commenced  in  1824,  and  carried  on  for  two  years,  the  situation  of 
the  missionaries  was  dangerous  in  the  extreme,  and  many  times  their 
lives  were  threatened.  The  sufferings  to  which  the  cruelty  of  the 
heathen  subjected  them,  were  almost  beyond  human  endurance,  and 
the  shocks  which  Mrs.  Judson  received,  so  weakened  her  constitu- 
tion, from  sickness  and  anguish  of  body  and  mind,  that  she  did  not 
long  survive  the  termination  of  the  war.  On  the  24th  of  October, 
1826,  while  her  husband  was  at  Rangoon,  she  died  at  the  British 
colony  of  Amherst,  where  she  now  rests  in  a  missionary's  grave, 
from  a  missionary's  labors. 

This  brief  sketch  of  the  life  of  Mrs.  Judson  is  abstracted  from  her  memoirs  by 
the  Rev.  J.  D.  Knowles,  a  book  so  well  known,  and  extensively  circulated,  that  a 
notice  of  her  life  here  was  unnecessary,  except  that  the  list  of  eminently  pious 
American  women  would  be  incomplete  without  her. 


581 


MRS.   ESTHER  BUTLER. 


Mrs.  Butler  was  a  native  of  Connecticut,  and  was  born  Sept. 
1798.  She  was  married  to  Doct.  Elizur  Butler  in  Oct.  1820,  and 
with  him  proceeded  immediately  to  the  Cherokee  nation,  to  join  the 
mission  there* under  the  direction  of  the  Board.  They  commenced 
their  labors  first  at  Brainerd,  and  afterwards  resided  for  a  season  at 
Creekpath.  In  the  spring  of  1826,  they  took  the  charge  of  the 
station  at  Haweis,  where  the  last  three  years  and  a  half  of  Mrs. 
Butler's  life  were  spent.  Her  constitution  seemed  to  have  been  se- 
riously impaired  by  a  severe  cold  taken  on  her  way  to  her  field  of 
labor,  and  she  never  after  enjoyed  good  heath ;  though  she  was  gen- 
erally able  to  manage  the  concerns  of  her  family  and  teach  a  small 
school.  In  April  last,  Doct.  Butler  having  been  called  away  more 
than  thirty  miles  to  attend  Mr.  David  Brown,  who  had  been  attacked 
with  bleeding  of  the  lungs,  was  unexpectly  summoned  to  return  to 
the  case  of  his  own  wife,  who  had  experienced  a  similar  attack. 
Spasms  of  the  stomach  followed,  and  became  extremely  severe  and 
obstinate.  By  this  attack  she  was  reduced  to  a  very  feeble  state 
although  hope  was  long  indulged  that  it  would  not  prove  fatal.  The 
disease,  however,  was  making  progress,  and  the  the  attacks  becom- 
ming  more  severe. 

The  following  passages  are  from  a  letter  of  Doct.  Butler. 

"  On  the  morning  of  the  21st  of  Oct.  1  told  her  I  hardly  expected 
she  would  live  through  the  day.  But  she  obtained  considerable  re- 
lief from  medicine,  and  was  more  comfortable  until  evening,  when 
her  symptoms  became  quite  alarming.  That  evening  a  kind  Provi- 
dence very  unexpectedly  brought  Messrs.  Worcester  and  Proctor  to 
comfort  and  assist  us.  About  eleven  o'clock  P.  M.  sunken  eyes,  a 
cadaverous  countenence,  with  unfavorable  symptoms,  indicated  her 
speedy  departure.  The  family  were  called  together.  She  gave 
each  individual,  whilst  grasping  her  hands,  a  short  address  and  a  fare- 
well. She  then  seemed  ready  to  fall  asleep  in  Jesus.  Her  speech 
was  reduced  to  a  whisper  and  her  eyes  became  dim.  Her  pulse 
died  away  and  revived  repeatedly.  She  ceased  to  breathe ;  then 
gasped  and  revived,  and  about  light  said,  "  Is  it  possible  that  I  have 
come  back  again  to  this  world  to  fill  up  my  cup?  I  thought  I  had 
gone  to  heaven.     But  if  it  is  the  Lord's  will-,  J  will  acquiesce." 

The  following  remarks  from  Mr.  Worcester,  who,  as  just  stated, 
witnessed  the  solemn  and  interesting  scene,  will  afford  a  further  ex- 
hibition, of  the  feelings  of  Mrs.  Butler  in  the  near  view  of  death. 

"During  the  night,  she  was  supposed  by  herself  and  by  all  present, 
;o  have  arrived  at  her  last  struggle.     At  first,   for  a  short  time,  she 


582  MEMOIRS    OF 

appeared  somewhat  solicitious  respecting  her  final  state.  "O,"  said 
she  "  to  appear  before  the  bar  of  God,  after  a  life  so  unfaithful  in 
his  service !"  In  a  few  minutes  after,  however,  she  said,  "  Yes,  I 
know  that  my  Redeemer  liveth,  though  Satan  did  try  to  persuade 
me  that  there  was  no  mercy  for  me."  The  remainder  of  that  night 
was  passed  in  excruciating  pain  of  body,  but  with  peace  of  mind. 
The  family  and  others  who  were  in  the  house  were  called  to  her  bed- 
side, and  she  bade  each  one  an  affectionate  farewell ;  recommending 
them  all  to  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ,  and  expressing  the  hope 
of  meeting  them  once  again  in  heaven  ;  and  repeating  to  her  children 
and  to  some  Cherokee  girls  who  had  been  under  her  instruction,  the 
exhortations  which  she  had  formerly  given  them,  to  believe  in  the 
Savior  of  sinners.  During  the  night  she  repeatedly  said,  "  I  long  to 
depart  and  be  with  my  blessed  Savior."  If  any  thing  wrong  appear- 
ed in  the  state  of  her  mind,  I  should  think  it  was  a  small  degree  of 
impatience  to  be  gone.  Respecting  her  missionary  labors  she  said, 
"  It  appears  to  me  that  I  have  done  little,  very  little  for  the  good  of 
this  people  :  but  I  leave  it  as  my  dying  testimony,  that  I  have  never  re- 
pented of  coming  and  doing  what  little  I  have." 

The  night  was  one  of  much  interest.  Mrs.  B.  said  many  things 
which  it  would  be  gratifying  and  worth  while  to  relate ;  but  I  do  not 
recollect  them  with  sufficient  accuracy.  In  the  morning  her  distress 
was  relieved  and  the  prospect  of  immediate  dissolution  removed. 
I  then  left  her  and  afterwards  was  with  her  only  a  part  of  the  nights 
of  Oct.  28 — 29  when  she  was  still  in  a  very  tranquil  state  of  mind, 
but  indulging  the  hope  of  recovery." 

Her  husband  has  given  a  brief  sketch  of  the  state  of  her  mind 
during  the  interval  which  elapsed  between  the  time  of  her  obtaining 
relief  from  the  almost  fatal  attack  just  noticed,  and  the  time  when  her 
spirit  was  released  from  the  body. 

"  She  seemed  so  near  heaven,  that  she  doubted  the  propriety  of 
using  any  more  means  for  her  recovery.  She  still  continued  and 
we  had  her  happy  society  thirty  days  longer.  She  looked  on  me 
and  her  children  as  no  longer  hers.  She  had  parted  with  us  and 
given  us  into  the  hands  of  her  covenant  God.  She  viewed  us  in  a 
different  light  from  what  she  ever  had  before  done.  She  still  loved 
us,  and  rejoiced  and  mourned  widi  us ;  but  we  were  in  the  world,  and 
she  was  on  the  threshold  of  heaven.  During  the  last  thirty  days  of 
her  life,  her  mind  was  in  a  very  happy  frame.  She  gave  various  di- 
rections respecting  her  children  and  spoke  of  her  burial,  and  her  de- 
parture for  heaven,  with  the  utmost  composure.  She  said  she  never 
regretted  engaging  in  the  mission  and  comming  to  labor  for  the  good 
of  the  Cherokees :  she  only  regretted  she  had  been  no  more  faith- 
ful, and  done  the  Cherokees  no  more  good." 

The  remaining  statements  respecting  the  closing  period  of  Mrs. 
Butler's  life  are  from  Mr,  Chamberlin,  who  was  much  with  her. 


MRS.  ESTHER  BUTLER.  583 

"  At  the  time,  Mr.  Worcester  left  Haweis,  and  for  several  days  af- 
terwards, Mrs.  Butler  was  anxious  to  die.  She  did  not  wish  her 
Christian  friends  to  pray  for  her  continuance  in  this  world,  and  she 
was  doubtful  whether  it  was  right  for  her  to  take  medicine.  Her 
symptoms,  however,  became  much  more  favorable,  and  some  faint 
hopes  were  entertained  of  her  recovery.  As  she  found  herself  re- 
viving, she  turned  her  eyes  again  to  the  world,  and  became  much 
too  anxious  to  live.  This  anxiety  was  greatly  increased,  if  not  caus- 
ed by  a  letter  which  was  received  from  her  sister,  informing  her  that 
she  was  about  to  set  out  for  this  country.  She  considered  this  anxi- 
ety as  a  temptation  of  the  adversary,  and  prayed  against  it,  and  de- 
sired her  Christian  friends  to  pray  that  this  temptation  might  be  re- 
moved. After  a  few  days,  this  anxiety  was  succeeded  by  remarka- 
ple  resignation  to  the  will  of  God,  which  continued  to  the  last.  Of 
her  sister  she  said,  "  I  have  been  very  anxious  to  see  her,  but  can 
now  freely  give  her  up  :  I  have  not  one  anxious  thought  respecting 
her.  The  Lord  knows  best  about  all  these  things  :  as  for  me,  I  am 
willing  to  lie  on  this  bed  of  sickness,  suffer  pain,  die,  or  get  well,  just 
as  he  pleases."  Upon  her  husband  and  children  she  cast  an  affec- 
tionate look  and  said,  "  You  are  no  longer  mine  :  I  feel  that  I  have 
given  you  up."  To  her  husband  when  speaking  of  the  children,  she 
said,  "  I  leave  you  with  a  great  charge ;  but  the  Lord  will  be  with 
you."  To  us  who  knew  her  strong  attachment  to  her  family,  the 
triumph  of  grace,  which  enabled  her  to  give  them  up  so  unreserved- 
ly, appeared  very  remarkable,  and  indeed  it  was  a  source  of  aston- 
ishment to  herself.  It  was  what  she  had  never  expected ;  nor  could 
she  attribute  it  to  any  thing  short  of  rich  and  sovereign  grace. 

She  expressed  great  confidence  in  the  Savior,  and  joyfully  resign- 
ed herself  into  his  hands.  When,  conversing  with  Mrs.  E.  one  of 
the  female  members  of  the  mission,  on  the  preciousness  of  the  Chris- 
tian's hope,  especially  in  such  a  time  as  this,  Mrs.  E.  repeated  the 
words  of  the  poet ; 

"  These  lively  hopes  we  owe 
To  Jesus'  dying  love." 

With  a  remarkable  glow  of  animation  on  her  countenance  she  re- 
plied "  O  yes,  yes,  dear  sister,  say  on."  She  expressed  much  feel- 
ing for  the  poor  Cherokees  in  their  present  affliction;  but  said,  "they 
are  in  the  hands  of  God,  and  he  will  order  all  things  right."  Speak- 
ing of  her  missionary  brethren  and  sisters,  she  said,  "I  love  them  all 
truly,  and  trust  I  shall  meet  them  in  heaven."  She  expressed  warm 
affection  and  gratitude  towards  those  who  were  with  her  in  her  sick- 
ness. She  said,  "  surely  there  never  was  a  poor  soul  that  had  so 
much  reason  to  be  grateful  for  kind  friends  as  I  have." 

When  she  was  dying  she  was  asked  if  she  could  then  say  with  the 
Psalmist,  "  though  I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death, 
I  will  fear  no  evil,  for  thou  art  with  me  :  thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they 


584  MEMOIRS,  &C. 

comfort  me."  With  great  animation  she  replied,  "  Yes  altogether.' ? 
When  she  was  again  asked  if  her  faith  still  held  out,  she  said,  "  yes,  I 
view  my  Savior  on  the  cross  and  am  supported."  After  her  speech 
was  gone  she  whispered  "  come  Lord  Jesus,  come  quickly,  come, 
come."     And  soon  fell  asleep. 

By  her  death  her  husband  has  lost  a  prudent  and  affectionate  wife. 
Her  children  have  also  lost  much.  As  a  mother  she  was  eminently- 
qualified  to  bring  them  up  in  a  respectable  and  religious  manner. 
Her  missionary  associates  have  lost  an  active  and  judicious  assistant, 
and  the  Cherokees  a  warm  hearted  and  valuable  friend.  It  is  true 
our  departed  sister  never  enjoyed  good  health  while  on  mission 
ground,  yet  she  had  a  remarkable  faculty  of  accomplishing  much  with 
little  strength." 

The  closing  scene  and  the  circumstances  of  the  funeral  are  thus 
described  by  Dr.  B. 

"  On  the  morning  of  Nov.  21st  she  fell  asleep  in  the  arms  of  the 
Savior.  On  the  next  day  her  funeral  was  attended  by  a  very  solemn 
and  orderly,  but  weeping  concourse.  The  funeral  sermon  was 
preached  by  Mr.  Chamberlin,  from  Rev.  xiv.  13.  "Blessed  are  the 
dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  from  henceforth."  Great  kindness  and 
sympathy  were  manifested  by  the  members  of  the  mission  families 
from  other  stations,  during  her  sickness  and  at  the  time  of  the  death 
of  Mrs.  B.  Many  of  them  spent  much  time  at  Haweis.  I  feel  this 
to  be  a  heavy  and  sore  affliction,  but  God  has  only  taken  away  a  bles- 
sing which  was  lent.  Though  the  loss  is  great  to  me,  she  has  gained 
everlasting  bliss." 

From  the  Missionary  Herald,  Vol.  26—1830, 


»S5 


ELIZA, 

AN     INDIAN    FEMALE. 


The  Indian  name  of  Eliza  was  O-dah-be-tuh-ghe-zhe-go-quai, 
signifying  in  English  the  Mid-way-sky  woman,  or  the  place  of  the 
sun  at  noon.  She  was  born  near  the  Annee,  about  300  miles  up  the 
south  shore  of  Lake  Superior ;  and  is  by  blood  of  the  Ojibeway 
tribe.  She  did  not  know  her  age,  but  was  probably  born  not  far 
from  the  year  1783. 

Being  of  influential  connections,  (her  uncle  a  principal  chief,)  she 
was  selected  to  become  an  interpreter  of  dreams.  This  took  place 
when  she  was  probably  about  16  or  17  years  old.  Her  merits  for 
this  rank  or  honor  must,  according  to  their  superstition,  be  decided 
by  her  living  ten  days  in  a  separate  lodge,  without  any  other  nour- 
ishment than  a  little  water  each  night.  She  faithfully  observed  the 
prescribed  abstinence,  although  it  nearly  cost  her  her  life.  Her 
bodily  strength  was  almost  exhausted  ;  and  on  being  brought  out  of 
the  lodge,  and  probably  being  too  plentifully  fed,  she  fell  sick  and 
did  not  recover  for  several  moons.  And  yet,  of  her  own  accord, 
soon  after  she  got  well  she  fasted  nine  days  more.  From  this  time 
she  was  considered  an  extraordinary  being.  The  clan  would  not 
permit  her  to  work,  but  provided  with  a  wigwam  of  distinction,  she 
constantly  received  from  them  the  best  of  their  every  thing,  both 
food  and  clothing. 

She  was  also  furnished  with  a  large  otter  skin,  or  medicine  sack, 
stored  with  every  necessary  article,  either  for  magical  cure  of  the 
sick,  or  for  interpreting  dreams.  This  sack,  which  she  carefully 
preserved,  was  her  badge  of  honor  ;  and  in  all  their  medicine  dances 
she  was  greatest  among  the  great.  One  proof  of  which  was  taking 
the  lead  in  drinking  whiskey.  In  this  way  she  became  so  exces- 
sively intemperate,  that  in  one  of  these  scenes  she  lost  her  sack. 
This  was  during  the  last  war,  at  the  commencement  of  which  she 
came  from  Lake  Superior  and  resided  on  the  main  land  west  of 
Mackinaw.  Another  sack  was  provided  her ;  this  she  kept  only 
about  two  years.  Near  this  lime  she  lost  one  of  her  children,  which, 
together  with  the  loss  of  her  second  sack  and  the  neglect  of  the  In- 
dians, so  dispirited  her  that  she  abandoned  herself  to  every  vice. 
About  nine  years  ago  she  lost  another  child,  the  third  of  four.  Then 
for  awhile  she  listened  to  advice  and  stopped  drinking.  But  it  was 
not  long  before  she  was  allured  away  into  the  woods  by  an  Indian 
man  and  woman,  where  whiskey  had  been  previously  carried,  and 

74 


586  MEMOIRS  OF 

there  those  two  persuaded  her  to  drink  with  them.  In  this  drunken 
frolic,  through  jealousy,  as  she  supposes,  but  without  any  just  provo- 
cation, the  other  woman  fell  upon  her  and  cut  off  her  nose.  This 
was  the  greatest  disgrace,  in  her  estimation,  that  she  could  possibly 
suffer.  And  for  a  long  time  her  friends  had  to  watch  her  to  prevent 
her  from  destroying  her  life.  Once  she  tried  to  hang  herself.  At 
another  time,  returning  from  Mackinaw,  where  she  with  other  Indians 
had  been  for  whiskey,  she  threw  herself  into  the  lake,  but  the  In- 
dian in  the  stern  caught  her  by  the  hair  and  drew  her  again  into  the 
canoe.  After  this  she  began  to  think  that  the  unknown  Indian,  who 
as  she  supposed,  had  the  care  of  her  life,  was  unwilling  that  she 
should  kill  herself,  and  she  gave  up  all  further  attempts  to  effect  it. 
Having  but  one  child  left,  she  now  stayed  sometimes  on  the  island 
of  Mackinaw,  and  sometimes  on  the  main  land,  with  no  fixed  object 
but  to  get  whiskey  by  every  possible  means. 

Five  years  ago  this  fall,  was  the  first  knowledge  I  had  of  her. 
Soon  after  our  family  was  open  to  receive  children,  I  one  day  met 
her  boy,  and  on  ascertaining  who  he  was,  I  went  with  an  interpreter 
to  the  lodge  of  the  mother.  A  wretchedly  destitute  and  miserable 
scene  we  witnessed.  At  that  time  no  persuasion  could  induce  her 
to  let  me  have  her  son.  But  going  the  second  time,  and  the  boy 
himself  being  willing,  she  at  length  reluctantly  gave  her  consent. 
However,  in  a  few  days  he  ran  away,  and  though  I  obtained  him 
again,  yet  through  the  winter  the  mother  wratched  for  opportunities 
to  get  him.  The  following  spring,  more  out  of  pity  than  for  our 
convenience,  I  employed  her,  first  in  the  kitchen,  and  afterward  at 
the  sugar  camp,  on  Bois  Bleau,  on  condition  that  she  would  drink 
no  whiskey  and  conduct  herself  properly.  By  much  counsel  and 
care  she  did  so  much  better  than  my  fears,  that  I  finally  told  her, 
that  provided  she  would  be  steady  and  do  such  work  as  she  was 
able,  she  might  have  a  home  with  us.  From  that  time,  I  believe, 
she  never  had  but  three  or  four  seasons  of  intoxication. 

It  is  now  about  three  years  since  her  serious  attention  to  religion 
commenced,  the  amount  of  which  for  some  length  of  time  was  very 
fluctuating.  While  under  the  sound  of  instruction  she  would  be 
more  or  less  affected,  sometimes  to  tears.  For  several  years,  dur- 
ing the  hours  of  Sabbath  school  we  have  had  a  separate  school  for 
Indian  women  and  others,  mostly  under  the  care  of  Mrs.  F.,  for  the 
purpose  of  reading  and  explaining  the  Scriptures,  tracts,  &c.  It 
was  at  these  meetings  that  E.  was  often  affected  ;  though  after- 
wards, as  she  says,  she  would  throw  the  subject  off  and  become  in 
a  measure  indifferent.  Again,  perhaps,  impressed  with  the  idea  that 
there  could  be  no  mercy  for  such  a  creature  as  she  was,  and  the 
thought  of  her  religious  state  making  her  unhappy,  she  would  avoid 
being  present  at  these  meetings.  Under  this  same  impression  she  could 
not  think  it  right  for  her  to  come  with  us  to  family  worship,  or  to  the 
evening  meetings  of  the  females.     Yet  she  says  she  often  felt  so 


ELIZA,    AN    INDIAN    FEMALE.  587 

strong  a  desire  to  hear  the  sound  of  prayer  and  singing,  that  she  has 
gone  to  the  door  and  remained  there  as  long  as  she  thought  she 
could,  without  being  discovered — sometimes  till  nearly  frozen.  Most 
of  that  winter  passed  with  such  uneasiness  of  mind,  that,  when  not 
daring  to  look  to  God  herself  for  mercy,  because  she  was  such  a  sin- 
ner, she  would  feel  it  a  kind  of  relief  to  overhear  the  worship  of 
others,  as  if  God  might  possibly  hear  their  prayers,  though  she  was 
unworthy  to  be  present. 

During  the  spring,  while  at  the  sugar  camp,  she  says  she  was  great- 
ly distressed  during  the  whole  time.  When  gathering  sap,  she  often 
had  feelings  like  these — Here  I  am  going  the  same  round  daily  from 
tree  to  tree,  and  can  find  no  relief — I  must  always  carry  this  wicked 
heart,  and  when  I  die,  be  miserable  forever. — The  pious  Indian  wo- 
man who  had  charge  of  the  sugar  camp,  used  to  talk  some  with  her ; 
and  after  seasons  of  prayer,  would  perhaps  ask  her  if  she  did  not 
feel  the  importance  of  joining  in  heart  with  her.  She  said  she  did. 
And  though  there  was  to  her  mind  no  prospect  of  ever  being  better, 
yet  she  would,  as  she  says,  forget  herself,  and  feel  strong  desires  for 
mercy.  After  her  return,  she  thought,  as  she  says,  that  every  one 
must  look  upon  her  condition  as  a  hopeless  one ;  and  as  before,  she 
often  stayed  away  from  meetings  because  she  thought  it  unfit  for  her 
to  be  there.  Most  of  the  following  summer  she  spent  at  the  farm, 
where  at  times  she  seemed  to  awake  to  an  affecting  view  of  her 
dreadful  state,  and  with  such  feelings  that  she  would  go  off  from  the 
house  and  pray  and  weep  much  alone  :  but  for  the  most  part  she  in- 
dulged in  despair  without  relief. 

The  next  fall  we  had  unusual  sickness  in  the  family,  and  E.  and 
her  son  were  left  at  the  farm  alone  for  two  or  three  weeks.  They 
also  were  both  taken  sick  ;  and  probably  suffered  somewhat  for  the 
want  of  nursing,  before  we  were  aware  of  it  and  could  bring  them 
home.  In  reference  to  this  time  she  says,  that  after  she  was  taken 
sick,  she  thought  with  herself,  that  she  had  found  no  relief  to  her 
mind  in  our  way,  meaning  that  of  Christians,  and  that  she  would 
again  try  her  old  way  of  medicine  songs  ;  and  that  she  spent  the 
greater  part  of  several  nights  in  songs  and  her  former  Indian  mum- 
mery. After  she  was  brought  home,  she  discontinued  this  ;  but  she 
thinks  she  lost  nearly  all  anxiety  about  her  soul,  and  seemed  to  have 
no  feeling  further  than  to  take  care  of  her  son  as  he  failed.  He  talk- 
ed with  her  for  sometime,  but  she  said  she  did  not  feel  it  much,  that 
she  was  like  one  who  had  lost  her  senses,  and  nothing  seemed  to 
move  her  feelings.  A  few  days  before  Joseph's  death,  he  had  a 
long  conversation  with  her  ;  told  her  that  he  should  die  soon,  and 
that  he  wanted  her  to  promise  him  never  to  drink  any  more  whiskey, 
to  remain  with  the  mission  family,  listen  to  their  instructions,  and 
pray  every  day  to  God  :  then,  when  she  died  she  would  go  to  God 
with  him.  At  first  she  told  him  that  if  he  died  she  would  die  too. 
But  Joseph  said  that  was  wrong  ;  that  it  would  not  be  as  she  said 


5S8  MEMOIRS  OF 

when  to  die  ;  but  that  God  only  had  a  right  to  have  her  die  when 
he  wished.  At  length  she  promised  him  that  she  would  remember 
and  do  as  he  had  requested. 

During  the  whole  scene  attending  Joseph's  death  and  funeral,  her 
behavior  was  singularly  calm  and  solemn  :  so  much  so,  that  it  was 
noticed  by  all.  Many  a  professing  Christian  mother  might  have  re- 
ceived from  E.  in  that  afflictive  scene,  a  silent,  though  awful  reproof, 
for  immoderate  grief.  When  she  perceived  that  his  spirit  was  really 
gone,  the  tears  rolled  and  she  exclaimed,  "  My  son  !  my  son  I"  in 
Indian  :  but  farther  than  this,  not  a  complaint  nor  groan  was  heard  to 
escape  her  lips. 

After  the  funeral  I  sat  down  with  her  and  had  a  long  conversation. 
Among  other  things  I  asked  her  why  it  was  that  she  appeared  as  she 
had  done  :  whether  it  had  been  so  at  the  death  of  her  other  children  ? 
To  this  last  she  said  no  :  and  gave  some  account  of  her  feelings  and 
conduct— -how  she  had,  as  is  common  among  the  Indians,  wailed  and 
mangled  her  own  body  in  self-affliction.  In  answer  to  the  former 
part,  she  said,  "  I  have  no  such  feelings  now — God  is  good,  and  I 
feel  that  what  he  has  done  must  be  right."  Although  she  expressed 
no  consciousness  of  the  love  of  God  in  her  soul ;  yet  she  furnished 
comfortable  evidence  to  my  mind,  that  her  feelings  were  under  the 
sanctifying  influence  of  the  Holy  Spirit.  On  the  following  night,  as 
she  now  relates,  while  fixing  her  bed,  all  which  had  passed  between 
her  and  Joseph  a  few  days  before  his  death  rushed  upon  her  mind 
like  a  torrent,  awakening  at  the  same  time  an  impression,  that  there 
was  no  hope  for  her  soul :  but  in  a  moment  she  involuntarily  resolv- 
ed to  pray  once  more  that  God  would  have  mercy.  For  the  pur- 
pose of  greater  retirement  she  started  to  go  to  the  cellar ;  and  while 
descending  the  stairs,  as  if  she  could  go  no  further,  she  settled  down 
and  began  to  pour  out  her  desires.  This  is  the  last  distinct  recollec- 
tion she  has  of  any  thing  that  took  place  then.  How  or  when  she 
got  back  she  has  no  knowledge.  Between  11  and  12  o'clock,  I 
heard  a  distressed  noise,  and  lighting  a  candle,  immediately  I  went 
to  her  and  found  her  apparently  asleep  ;  and  upon  awaking  her,  I 
asked  her  if  she  was  sick,  she  said  No ;  and  I  went  back.  The  first 
that  she  remembered  was  seeing  me  with  a  candle  in  my  hand. 
She  afterwards,  as  she  says,  engaged  in  prayer  again,  and  was  then, 
for  the  first  time  conscious  of  enjoyment  in  the  love  of  Christ.  The 
next  morning,  her  soul  was  so  filled  with  love  to  all  the  members  of 
the  family,  that  as  she  saw  one  and  another,  she  says,  she  felt  that 
her  own  children  had  never  been  so  near  her  heart  as  they.  Now 
she  felt  so  entirely  reconciled  to  the  death  of  Joseph,  that  she  had 
no  inclination  to  grieve.  At  times,  she  says,  her  mind  would  recur 
to  the  scene  of  his  death  ;  but  to  use  her  own  expressions  literally 
interpreted,  "  1  felt  as  if  I  was  in  a  narrow  happy  way,  and  if  a 
thought  came  to  me  about  Joseph,  it  seemed  like  being  drawn  out  of 
this  way,  and  I  longed  to  get  back  again  immediately."     With  these 


ELIZA,    AN    INDIAN    FEMALE.  5S9 

happy  feelings  towards  God  and  Christians,  she  now  for  the  first 
time  thought  a  great  deal  of  her  own  people.  "  Oh  if  they  could 
only  see  as  I  do,  how  happy  they  would  be  !" 

When  asked  about  the  state  of  her  mind  afterward,  she  said,  "I 
have  always  been  happy  in  God  since  then.  The  more  I  have  had 
a  view  of  the  love  of  God  in  Christ  since,  and  the  longer  I  have  liv- 
ed, the  more  I  have  desired  to  love  him,  and  to  love  him  more  and 
more,  and  to  be  more  and  more  like  him  in  my  soul.  I  do  not 
know  that  I  have  since  ever  had  any  sorrow  of  soul  so  great  as  I  have 
had  for  those  who  are  ignorant  of  God.  Much  sorrow  I  have  often 
had  for  them.  Sometimes  when  going  into  church,  or  while  there, 
it  has  made  me  weep  to  think  of  those  who  do  not  love  God.  There 
has  never  been  one  day  since  1  found  peace  to  my  soul,  when  I  did 
not  feel  mat  God  was  with  me."  The  reason  which  she  assigns  for 
this  mercy  is,  that  God  will  soon  take  her  out  of  the  world,  and  that 
he  is  pleased  thus  to  be  preparing  her  for  his  presence.  "  Every 
Sabbath,"  she  says,  "  I  have  felt  that  this  leaves  me  one  Sabbath 
less  to  be  in  this  world,  and  brings  me  one  Sabbath  nearer  the  time 
when  I  shall  be  with  Christ." 

Here,  on  being  particularly  questioned,  she  related  three  instances 
when  for  a  time  her  mind  was  troubled.  A  year  ago  she  was  reduc- 
ed quite  low,  and  one  evening  word  was  brought  that  E.  was  dying. 
On  going  to  her  room  she  was  found  to  be  very  languid,  but  after 
some  time  revived,  so  as  to  be  able  to  converse.  She  was  question- 
ed relative  to  her  views  and  feelings,  to  which  she  gave  answers  ex- 
pressive of  joy  in  prospect  of  being  soon  with  God.  She  answered 
one  of  the  sisters  to  this  effect,  "  I  long  to  be  gone  :  I  want  to  have 
the  time  come."  Afterwards  she  felt  that  she  had  expressed  impa- 
tience, and  it  grieved  her  exceedingly;  so  that  she  had  several  seasons 
of  weeping  between  that  and  the  following  Sabbath  morning. 

Another  time  to  which  she  referred,  she  had  gone  to  bed  and  as 
she  supposes,  had  not  slept  long  when  she  awoke  and  felt  a  desire  to 
pray.  She  rose  and  knelt  down,  but  had  been  engaged  but  a  few 
moments  before  she  drowsed.  This  occurred  again ;  but  awaking 
the  second  time,  she  was  alarmed  at  herself,  and  feared  that  her  love 
to  God  was  all  dying;  and  so  great  was  her  distress,  that  it  banished 
every  sleepy  feeling.  With  fears  and  a  burdened  heart  she  set  about 
prayer  in  earnest ;  nor  did  she  leave  until  her  tears  of  sorrow  were 
turned  into  tears  of  joy.  Then  was  her  soul  so  full  that  she  could 
not  sleep,  and  the  remainder  of  the  night  was  spent  in  prayer,  and 
joy  that  God  was  with  her. 

The  other  instance  was  on  an  occasion,  when  the  girls  had  made 
some  remarks  to  her,  from  which  she  thought,  as  she  was  always  sick 
they  and  the  rest  of  the  family  considered  her  as  burdensome,  and 
wished  her  away.  This  made  her  fell  unhappy  for  a  few  hours,  but 
before  night  she  obtained  that  relief  in  prayer,  which  restored  peace 
to  her  soul. 


590  MEMOIRS  OF 

I  afterwards  put  several  questions  to  her  which  follow,  together 
with  her  answers. 

You  have  said  that  before  you  found  peace  in  Christ,  you  did  for 
a  long  time — for  many  months—feel  yourself  miserably  wretched, 
and  that  you  often  prayed ;  was  it  for  the  sake  of  these  prayers  that 
God  gave  you  peace?  or  was  there  any  good  in  them?  "No,  it  was 
because  of  Christ's  pity  to  my  soul ;  because  he  died  for  poor  sin- 
ners; and  it  was  of  God's  mercy  that  missionaries  were  sent  to  teach 
me." — Do  you  mean  to  have  me  understand  from  all  you  have  said, 
that  you  never  had  any  fears  that  you  were  deceived  :  no  time  in 
which  you  have  doubted  whether  you  had  a  part  in  the  Savior  or 
not?  "I  have  always  felt  sure  that  God  has  had  mercy  on  my  soul ; 
and  the  more  I  have  thought  of  my  old  wicked  life,  it  has  been  like 
one  pushing  me  nearer  to  God  :  it  has  made  me  feel  more  humble  in 
myself,  and  a  strong  desire  to  live  only  for  him." — But  should  God 
take  away  his  Spirit  from  your  heart  and  leave  you  to  yourself,  what 
do  you  think  would  become  of  you  ?  "  I  should  be  good  for  nothing." 
Have  you  any  fears  that  God  will  ever  take  away  his  Spirit  from  your 
soul  ?  "No." — Why  ?  "  from  what  I  have  heard  of  his  word,  be  has 
promised  to  keep  those  that  trust  in  him  ;  and  I  believe  he  is  faithful 
to  his  word." 

There  have  been  several  times  when  in  your  sickness  you  have 
been  very  low,  and  have  had  reason  to  think  you  would  live  but  a  few 
hours  or  days ;  have  you  at  none  of  these  times  been  unwilling  or 
afraid  to  die  ?  "  No." — Have  you  always  felt,  if  it  were  God's  will, 
that  it  would  be  a  privilege  to  die,  and  you  would  be  glad  to  have  the 
hour  come  ?  "  Yes  ;  I  have.  This  fall,  when  I  was  very  sick  for  two 
days  and  nights,  and  felt  that  God  only  could  make  me  better  or  take 
me  away,  I  thought,  if  it  were  his  will,  how  glad  I  should  be  to  be 
sure  that  I  was  dying,  that  I  might  be  with  God." — A  year  ago  last 
spring  you  was  baptized  and  received  into  the  church ;  can  you  tell 
me  any  thing  of  your  feelings  at  that  time  about  the  ordinances  ? 
"  after  I  understood  their  design,  that  Christ  had  commanded  them 
and  why  he  had  done  it,  I  had  a  very  strong  desire  to  be  baptized 
and  to  receive  the  sacrament;  nor  is  there  any  thing  in  this  world 
that  I  have  felt  to  be  so  great  a  privilege.  When  at  the  table  I  was 
baptized  and  promised  solemnly  to  be  for  God,  I  really  felt  in  my 
heart  every  word,  and  that  I  was  now  all  the  Lord's,  and  no  more  for 
myself  or  for  any  other.  I  was  happier  than  I  can  express,  in  the 
privilege  of  being  there  with  the  love  of  God  in  my  heart ;  and  when 
receiving  the  bread  and  wine,  I  felt  that  I  could  not  be  thankful 
enough  to  God  for  bringing  me  to  the  table  once.  I  thought  I  should 
come  there  no  more  ;  but  that  the  next  time  I  should  be  at  God's 
table  in  heaven." — You  see  that  it  has  not  been  as  you  thought. 
You  have  communed  several  times :  have  those  always  been  pre- 
cious seasons  to  your  soul?  "Yes,  every  one  of  them." — Have  they 
been  as  precious  as  the  first  one  ?  "  Yes  :  as  I  have  heard  more  of 


ELIZA,    AN    INDIAN    FEMALE.  591 

the  Savior,  and  have  learned  more  of  his  love  from  the  bible,  I  have 
felt  each  time,  if  possible,  more  and  more  near  and  happy  in  him." 
What  good  do  you  think  that  baptism  or  the  sacrament  could  do  you 
without  a  heart  to  love  the  Savior  ?  "  None.  There  would  be  no 
joy  to  my  soul  in  them." — Could  you  have  this  joy  and  peace  of 
which  you  have  told  me,  if  you  did  not  as  far  as  you  know  strive  to 
obey  God  in  all  things  ?  "  no  ;  I  could  not.  Though  unable  to  do 
any  thing  with  my  hands  to  help  the  family  and  to  labor  for  God,  it 
is  my  sincere  desire  daily  to  have  my  heart  much  in  prayer  for  them 
and  for  the  salvation  of  their  souls ;  and  because  God  lets  me  live,  I 
believe  he  wishes  me  to  be  devoted  in  spirit  to  this. — Do  you  think 
you  love  God  and  souls  as  much  as  you  ought ?  "no:  I  try  to  love, 
but  do  not  feel  so  much  as  I  ought. — When  do  you  expect  to  have 
perfect  love  to  God  and  souls?  at  first  she  answered,  "  never;"  think- 
ing that  I  meant  while  in  the  body.  Afterwards  she  said,  "  when  I 
get  to  heaven." 

Respecting  the  foregoing  narrative,  Mr.  Ferry,  the  missionary 
remarks, — 

I  have  written  it  as  taken  from  the  woman  through  an  interpreter, 
and  as  having  in  part  fallen  under  my  own  observation.  I  have  scru- 
pulously avoided  any  thing  like  a  more  favorable  coloring  than  facts 
would  justify.  The  statements  have  been  read  by  those  who  have 
had  most  knowledge  of  the  subject  of  them,  and  of  her  exercises, 
and  they  believe  that  the  impression  which  will  naturally  be  left  on 
the  mind  of  the  reader  will  be  less  striking  than  the  reality.  In  res- 
pect to  uninterrupted  peace  and  spirituality  of  mind,  the  case  of  this 
woman  is  unlike  any  other  which  I  ever  knew.  Aware  that  some 
will  at  once  set  it  down  as  untrue  or  a  delusion,  I  have  faithfully  tried 
but  in  vain,  to  draw  from  her  something  which  would  warrant  me  in 
truth  to  cloud  some  part  of  her  christian  life  with  doubt,  but  you 
might  as  well  attempt  to  make  her  disbelieve  her  existence,  as  to 
convince  her  that  she  has  been  left  to  go  mourning  the  hidings  of 
God's  countenance  from  her  soul.  She  is  indeed  a  favored  child, 
ripening  fast  for  glory :  sick  or  well,  in  pain  or  at  ease,  she  always 
meets  us  with  a  placid,  and  most  commonly  with  a  smiling  counte- 
nance. She  is  afflicted  with  consumptive  complaints,  and  for  many 
months  has  raised  blood  freely :  we  have  expected  that  before  this 
she  would  have  been  at  rest. 

She  died  at  the  mission  station,  Nov.  23,  1830,  By  the  blessing 
of  God  on  the  religious  instruction  given  her,  she  had  been  rais- 
ed from  uncommon  debasement  to  a  degree  of  Christian  knowledge 
and  piety,  seldom  attained  by  persons  in  her  circumstances.  At  the 
time  of  her  decease,  "she  exhibited,"  says  Mr.  Ferry,  "the  charac- 
ter of  the  believer  triumphing  in  death.  For  many  months  she  had 
been  almost  daily  looking  for  her  departure.  Though  suffering  much 
in  body,  yet  she  was  uniformly  patient  and  happy.  She  repeatedly 
said  on  the  day  of  her  death, '  I  think  I  shall  go  to  day.'     At  night  sbe 


592  MEMOIRS,  &C. 

shook  hands  with  some  of  the  members  of  the  mission  family,  and 
with  a  smile  spoke  of  it  as  the  last  time.  But  a  few  minutes  before 
her  death,  in  allusion  to  David's  words,  she  said  she  feared  no  evil. 
Surely  no  unbeliever,  observing  her  course  down  the  dark  valley, 
could  any  longer  doubt  the  reality  of  religion,  or  deny  the  importance 
of  carrying  the  tidings  of  the  gospel  to  the  unlettered  savage." 

From  the  Missionary  Herald,  Vol,  25—1829;  and  Vol,  27—1831. 


593 


MRS.   MYRA  Wo  ALLEN. 


Mrs.  Allen  was  born  in  Westminster,  Massachusetts,  on  the  7th 
of  December,  1S00  5  and  was  the  youngest  daughter  of  colonel  Abel' 
Wood.  She  enjoyed  the  unspeakable  advantage  of  a  religious  edu- 
cation ;  and  her  parents  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  all  their  chil- 
dren, nine  in  number,  members  of  that  church  with  which  they  were 
walking  in  the  fear  of  the  Lord.  She  was  also  favored,  both  at  home 
and  in  a  neighboring  town  to  which  she  was  sent  for  the  purpose  at 
the  age  of  about  seventeen  years,  with  facilities  for  cultivating  her 
mind  and  storing  it  with  useful  knowledge.  She  obviously  availed 
herself  of  these  advantages  with  much  diligence.  The  following 
paragraphs  taken  from  a  paper  written  by  herself,  give  an  account  of 
the  beginnings  of  spiritual  life  in  her  soul.  The  paper  is  without  date, 
but  must  refer  to  the  period  between  her  eighteenth  and  twenty-sec- 
ond year. 

"  As  long  as  I  have  any  recollection,  I  have  been  the  subject  of 
serious  religious  impressions.  I  was  early  instructed  in  the  truths  of 
religion — the  government  of  a  holy,  sovereign  God,  who  had  an  in- 
finite hatred  of  sin,  requiring  perfect  obedience  of  his  creatures,  and 
punishing  every  transgression  of  his  holy  law  with  eternal  death — the 
duty  of  repentance — the  necessity  of  a  change  of  heart,  and  the  way 
of  salvation  through  a  crucified  Redeemer.  I  was  convinced  of  the 
truth  and  importance  of  these  things,  but  they  were  wholly  uncon- 
genial with  my  carnal  affections.  1  intended  some  time  to  attend  to 
them,  but  could  not  think  them  calculated  to  afford  happiness  to  the 
youthful  mind.  Thus  I  practically  said  '  Go  thy  way,'  &c.  In  this 
manner  I  quieted  my  conscience,  not,  however,  without  being  fre-' 
quently  roused  by  a  solemn  providence  or  a  searching  impressive 
sermon — sometimes  to  be  almost  persuaded  to  become  a  Christian. 
About  the  age  of  thirteen,  I  was  much  interested  in  reading  the  life 
of  Mrs.  Newell.  I  admired  her  amiable  and  engaging  disposition, 
and  was  much  affected  with  her  early  piety.  This  I  was  persuad- 
ed was  the  source  of  those  lovely  virtues  which  so  highly  adorned 
her  character.  I  believed  she  was  happy,  and  almost  wished  my- 
self possessed  of  that  which  could  render  her  so  cheerful  amidst  so 
many  trying  scenes.  But  I  could  not  endure  the  idea  of  renouncing 
my  worldly  pleasures  and  companions,  and  of  bearing  the  reproach 
which  I  thought  I  should  meet  from  the  gay  and  thoughtless.  I  re- 
mained in  a  slate  similar  to  this  till  the  17th  year  of  my  age,  when  I 
think  my  attention  was  a  little  more  excited. 

"  About  this  time  a  number  of  my  companions  became  seriously 
impressed  with  a  sense  of  their  dangerous  situation  as  sinners,   and 

75 


594  MEMOIRS  OF 

began  to  inquire  with  solicitude,  what  they  must  do  to  be  saved.  I 
had  often  thought  that  if  my  young  friends  would  seek  religion,  I 
would  join  in  the  pursuit.  Now  I  had  the  trial  of  my  sincerity.  It 
occasioned  at  first  some  severe  struggle  in  my  mind  to  become  will- 
ing to  renounce  the  world  and  its  vain  pleasures,  *  to  meet  the  world's 
dread  laugh'  and  endure  the  sneers  of  some  whom  I  loved ;  but  I 
soon  resolved  that  notwithstanding  all  these,  1  would  make  religion 
my  business,  and  that,  through  divine  assistance,  I  would  persevere  in 
this  resolution,  though  all  my  days  should  be  spent  in  the  search. 

"  I  desire  to  bless  the  Lord  that  he  did  not  suffer  me  to  be  again 
ensnared  by  the  vanities  of  youth,  and  lured  from  the  path  I  was  re- 
solved to  tread.  I  was  led  to  hope,  that,  though  long  left  to  wander 
in  darkness,  without  any  light,  even  '  darkness  that  might  be  felt,5 
there  might  still  be  mercy  for  me ;  but  if  I  never  obtain  comfort,  I 
choose  to  spend  my  life  thus,  rather  than  engage  in  worldly  amuse- 
ments and  pleasures.  Nearly  four  years  passed  without  bringing  me 
any  lasting  relief." 

After  spending  a  few  months  in  a  neighboring  town  where  there 
was  a  revival  of  religion,  she  remarks— 

"  Shortly  after  my  return,  however,  I  began  to  view  things  in  a 
different  light.  I  began  to  feel  there  might  be  hope,  even  for  me. 
The  promise,  c  Him  that  cometh  to  me,  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out,5 
I  found  included  all ;  and  the  passage,  '  He  is  faithful  that  promis- 
ed,' &c.  increased  my  confidence.  I  clearly  saw  that  my  heart  was 
exceedingly  polluted ;  but  those  scriptures,  '  Behold  the  Lamb  of 
God  that  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the  world,'  and  '  The  blood  of 
Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin,'  appeared  to  meet  my  case,  and  they 
were  to  me  sweetly  refreshing.  The  character  of  the  Savior  ap- 
peared lovely,  and  no  longer  as  l  a  root  out  of  a  dry  ground  :'  yet  my 
apprehensions  of  divine  things  were  quite  obscure.  I  often  thought 
of  the  blind  man  who,  after  once  washing  his  eyes,  could  discern 
*  men  as  trees  walking.'  I  remained  thus,  sometimes  hoping,  some- 
times not  daring  to  hope,  through  the  winter." 

She  continued  in  this  state'of  darkness  and  doubting  during  three 
or  four  months ;  but  at  length,  having  obtained  clearer  views  of  the 
great  truths  of  the  gospel,  and  acquiescing  mere  fully  in  them,  she 
was  enabled  to  add — 

"  A  tranquil  serenity  now  took  possession  of  my  breast,  such  as 
had  long  been  a  stranger  there.  The  plan  of  salvation  opened  to 
my  view  in  a  lovely  engaging  light,  and  I  felt  that  there  was  safety 
in  committing  myself  wholly  to  sovereign  mercy.  If  left  to  perish,  no 
injustice  would  be  done,  yet  I  fully  believed  that  none  who  did  trust 
in  the  Savior  unreservedly  would  be  cast  off. 

"  I  had  long  regarded  it  as  a  privilege  of  which  I  was  utterly  un- 
worthy, to  be  admitted  to  the  Lord's  table.  I  now  saw,  that  unwor- 
thy as  I  was,  it  was  a  duty  I  ought  not  to  neglect.  After  serious  de- 
liberation, therefore,  I  gave  ray  name  to  be  proposed  to  the  church 


MRS.    MYRA    W.    ALLEN.  595 

for  admission,  and  on  the  8th  December,  1822,  entered  into  solemn 
covenant  engagements  to  be  the  Lord's.  It  was  a  day  of  solemni- 
ty and  joy  to  my  soul,  and  one  which  I  felt  called  for  the  most  live- 
ly gratitude,  not  only  for  the  mercy  I  experience  myself,  but  that 
others  received  the  same  with  me — a  dear  brother  and  niece  being 
received  to  church-fellowship  at  the  same  time.  For  a  considerable 
time  I  was  scarcely  troubled  with  a  serious  doubt.  I  had  no  ecsta- 
sies of  joy,  but  a  peace  and  tranquillity  such  as  I  never  before  expe- 
rienced." 

In  a  journal  which  Mrs.  Allen  kept,  and  in  which  she  made  en- 
tries with  more  or  less  regularity,  she  records  her  feelings  on  the  day 
when  she  offered  herself  a  candidate  for  admission  to  the  church,  and 
on  that  when  she  first  sat  down  at  the  table  of  Christ. 

"JVbw.  24,  1822. — After  repeated  self-examination  and  earnest 
supplication  for  the  aid  of  the  Holy  Spirit  to  direct  in  the  path  of  du- 
ty, I  have  at  length  come  to  a  decision— ^and  this  day  offered  myself 
in  a  public  manner  for  admission  into  the  church.  What  lively  grat- 
itude ought  1  to  exercise  for  the  distinguishing  goodness  of  God  to 
so  stubborn  a  rebel.  To  the  praise  of  sovereign  grace  I  would  re- 
cord it.  I  humbly  hope  and  trust  that  I  have  tasted  of  the  love  of 
Christ,  and,  though  long  left  to  wander  in  darkness,  that  I  have  at 
length  enjoyed  the  cheering  beams  of  the  Sun  of  Righteousness,  and 
been  led  to  consecrate  myself  to  the  service  of  my  Creator.  If, 
however,  I  am  deceived — how  dreadful  ?  O  Lord,  discover  to  me 
my  true  state.  Grant  me  the  light  of  thy  countenace,  whatever  else 
thou  deniest,  for  Jesus'  sake. 

"  Dec.  8. — The  solemn  scene  is  past.  I  have  publicly  avouched 
the  Lord  to  be  my  God  and  portion — my  teacher  and  sanctifier — 
my  prophet,  priest,  and  king;  and  am  'witness  against  myself  that 
I  have  chosen  the  Lord  to  serve  him.'  Now,  if  I  should  go  astray 
and  wound  this  precious  cause,  I  must  be  without  excuse.  O  Lord, 
look  graciously  upon  me,  and  grant  that  my  resolutions  of  new  obe- 
dience, made  I  trust  in  reliance  on  thy  divine  aid,  may  not  prove 
transient  as  the  morning  dew ;  but  may  I  have  grace  to  be  faithful. 
Suffer  me  not  to  break  the  solemn  covenant  engagements  into  which 
I  have  entered  ;  but  make  me  useful  in  the  spiritual  vineyard.  Look 
in  compassion  on  my  dear  companions.  O  revive  thy  work  in  this 
place  ;  especially  among  the  youth.  The  spiritual  interest  of  a  num- 
ber lies  near  my  heart  in  a  special  manner.  And  may  I  never,  by 
a  careless  walk  or  an  unchristian  temper,  prove  a  l  stumbling  block' 
to  them ;  but  may  I  recommend  the  religion  of  Jesus  by  exempli- 
fying its  pure,  peaceable,  humble,  compassionate,  self-denying  spir- 
it. I  am  weak  in  myself — may  thy  grace  be  made  perfect  in  my 
weakness. 

A  few  additional  extracts  will  be  taken  from  this  journal,  illustra- 
tive of  some  conspicuous  traits  in  her  character. 


696  MEMOIRS  OF 

Mrs,  Allen  was  tenderly  attached  to  her  young  companions  and 
friends,  and  most  earnestly  longed  for  their  welfare,  and  especially 
their  conversion  to  God.  On  returning  home  from  the  school  where 
she  had  spent  some  months,  she  thus  gives  vent  to  her  pious  solici- 
tude for  those  with  whom  she  had  been  associated. 

"Sept.  4,  1822. — I  have  now  taken  my  leave  of  those  compan- 
ions with  whom  I  have  spent  so  many  pleasant  hours  in  literary  pur- 
suits, and  returned  to  my  native  place.  To  many  of  them  I  have 
probably  bid  the  last  adieu,  no  more  to  meet  them  on  the  shores  of 
time.  It  is  a  solemn  and  affecting  consideration.  It  is  painful  to 
the  heart  possessed  of  any  degree  of  sensibility  to  separate  from  those 
whom  we  love ;  to  sever  the  tender  ties  of  friendship.  But  separa- 
tion is  needful  in  this  imperfect  state. 

"  Friends  must  part  and  friendship  sigh, 
Although  it  knows  not  how  to  die." 

"  How  much  would  the  pangs  of  parting  be  mitigated,  could  we 
indulge  the  pleasing  hope  that  we  should  all  meet  at  last  on  Canaan's 
happy  shore,  no  more  to  endure  a  separation.  But  how  dreadful  is 
the  idea  of  a  final  separation  !  How  heart-rending  the  thought,  that 
any  of  us  should  be  finally  cast  off  and  be  banished  from  all  good, 
to  dwell  with  everlasting  burnings !  Merciful  Savior,  prepare  us  by 
thy  grace  to  appear  before  thy  throne,  clad  in  the  robes  of  thy  right- 
eousness, and  to  spend  an  eternity  in  thy  presence  !  Follow  each 
member  of  that  seminary  with  thy  special  blessing,  and  may  both 
teachers  and  pupils  become  ornaments  to  society,  and  useful  mem- 
bers of  the  church  of  Christ." 

On  another  occasion  she  writes — 

"May  29,  1823.— A  tribute  of  gratitude  and  praise  is  due  to  the 
Almighty  Redeemer  for  his  abundant  grace  displayed  in  the  recent 
conversion  of  two  dear  friends,  and  I  embrace  this  early  opportunity 
to  record  it.  Situated  so  favorably  as  they  were  for  embracing  re- 
ligion, I  have  felt  much  anxiety  for  their  spiritual  welfare ;  and  often 
have  attempted  to  commend  their  cases  to  him  whose  sovereign 
grace  alone  can  change  the  flinty  heart,  and  bestow  that  peace  which 
springs  from  believing  in  Jesus,  and  a  hope  full  of  immortality. 

"  My  most  sanguine  hopes  are  now  realized.  1  have  abundant  tes- 
timony in  proof  of  the  happy  change,  and  though  deprived  of  the 
privilege  of  being  a  personal  witness,  yet  1  do  rejoice,  yea  and  will 
rejoice  in  the  glorious  event.  Shall  the  angels  of  God  rejoice  over 
the  conversion  of  sinners,  and  shall  not  his  professing  children  min- 
gle their  more  feeble  notes  with  the  general  songs  of  praise  ?  Oh 
yes ;  the  sacrifice  of  thanksgiving,  rising  from  a  truly  contrite  and 
pious  soul,  we  have  encouragement  to  believe,  will  find  acceptance 
with  our  gracious  Sovereign.  I  do  indulge  the  hope  that  if  our  lives 
are  prolonged,  I  shall  yet  behold  with  my  eyes  and  hear  for  myself, 
wljat  I  have  heard  from  other; :  that  1  shall  mingle  Christian  con- 


MRS.  MYRA  VV.  ALLEN.  597 

gratulations  with  them,  and  offerings  of  grateful  praise  to  him  who 
has  caused  us  to  hope  in  his  mercy." 

This  solicitude  for  her  friends  whom  she  could  not  regard  as  the 
followers  of  Christ  was  especially  conspicuous  when  the  period  ar- 
rived that  was  to  separate  her  from  them  forever  in  this  world.  With 
many  of  them  she  conversed  with  much  affection  and  solemnity ;  to 
others  she  wrote  during  her  passage  to  India ;  and  for  all  she  cher- 
ished the  most  tender  attachment,  and  often  remembered  them  in 
her  prayers.  After  arriving  at  Bombay,  she  made  the  following  en- 
try in  her  journal. 

"June  27,  1828. — I  have  just  received  letters  from  America,  and 
have  been  rejoiced  in  recognizing  the  hand  writing  of  dear  friends 
with  whom  I  have  often,  in  years  past,  enjoyed  Christian  communion. 
But  far  greater  has  been  my  joy  in  hearing  that  many,  who  are  en- 
deared by  the  ties  of  nature  and  friendship,  have  embraced  the  Sa- 
vior by  a  living  faith,  and  are  devoting  themselves  to  his  service. 
The  description  of  such  a  season  of  refreshing  from  the  Lord,  in  my 
native  place,  brings  vividly  to  mind  similar  scenes  which  I  once  wit- 
nessed, and  in  which  I  so  much  rejoiced.  Such  scenes  will  yet  be 
witnessed  in  this  dark  part  of  the  world.  Blessed  be  the  Lord,  his 
power  is  not  restrained,  and  he  is  able  to  save  as  well  in  heathen  as 
in  Christian  countries." 

The  journal  of  Mrs.  Allen  shows  that  she  humbly  and  diligently 
examined  herself;  that  she  made  it  her  business  to  grow  in  holiness; 
that  she  carried  on  the  warfare  with  sin  vigorously ;  and  that  she 
had  such  a  familiar  acquaintance  with  her  own  heart,  and  with  the 
difficulties  and  comforts  of  a  Christian  life,  as  constitutes  a  distinct, 
palpable  Christian  experience,  On  the  8th  of  December,  1823,  she 
writes — 

" '  Grow  in  grace  and  in  the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  and  Savior 
Jesus  Christ.'  This  is  a  positive  command  of  the  inspired  volume : 
I  select  it  as  suitable  for  meditation  to-day,  as  it  completes  a  year 
since  I  publicly  took  the  covenant  of  God  upon  me.  1  desire  to  put 
the  question  to  my  heart  and  conscience,  what  advances  in  the  di- 
vine life  have  I  made  during  this  year?  The  Lord  has  been  pleas- 
ed to  plant  me  in  a  well  cultivated  vineyard,  and  has  watched  with 
a  scrutinizing  eye  to  behold  what  fruit  I  would  bring  forth.  But  1 
have  not  surely  made  that  improvement  I  ought,  and  might  have 
made.  I  have  not  sought  out  and  improved  opportunities  for  doing 
good  according  to  the  ability  I  possessed.  Let  this  be  for  my  con- 
stant humiliation.  And  if  I  have  been  enabled  to  do  any  thing  for 
the  glory  of  God ;  his  shall  be  all  the  praise.  I  would  now  form 
some  new  resolutions  for  my  future  conduct,  and  strive  to  give  a 
strict  adherence  to  them.  Should  my  life  and  health  be  spared,  L 
intend  to  select  a  chapter  each  morning  for  a  subject  of  meditation, 
committing  to  memory  one  or  more  important  verses  to  employ  the 
vacant  moments  through  the  day      I  would  also  be  more  strict  in 


598  MEMOIRS  OF 

the  government  of  my  thoughts,  and  watchful  over  my  general  con- 
duct; particularly  when  likely  to  be  exposed  to  temptation.  I  would 
also  be  more  strict  and  constant  in  self-examination,  and  strive  to  be 
more  fervent  in  secret  devotion. 

"March  27,  1825. — I  would  now  review  my  exercises  during  the 
past  winter.  The  Lord  has  been  in  this  place,  reviving,  I  trust,  the 
languishing  graces  of  his  children,  pouring  out  a  spirit  of  prayer,  and, 
by  the  still,  small  voice  of  his  Spirit,  convincing  unbelievers  of  their 
danger  and  guilt,  and  giving  them  a  hope  in  his  pardoning  grace. 
My  heart,  if  it  does  not  deceive  me,  has  been  deeply  interested  in 
this  work.  At  times  I  have  felt  a  joy  inexpressible — and  still  I  have 
ardent  desires  for  its  continuance  and  spread — till  all  shall  unite  in 
praising  and  loving  and  serving  the  dear  Redeemer.  I  have  felt 
that  he  is  indeed  a  '  Refuge  in  the  time  of  trouble.'  The  promises 
have  afforded  me  sweet  consolation  ;  and  though  at  times  nature  has 
been  ready  to  repine,  yet  I  have  earnestly  sought  his  grace  to  sub- 
due my  will  and  make  me  wholly  submissive.  I  have  sometimes 
found  sweet  peace  in  committing  all  my  interests  into  his  hands  for 
time  and  eternity — my  views  of  futurity  have  been  brightened — and 
I  have  felt  desirous  to  live  more  like  a  pilgrim,  passing  through  a 
desert  land,  '  seeking  a  better  country,  even  an  heavenly.'  May  he 
perfect  his  work  of  grace  in  my  soul,  and  enable  me  to  receive  the 
allotments  of  his  providence  with  submission,  rejoicing  that  his  wis- 
dom overrules  all  things  for  good  to  them  that  trust  in  him. 

"Jan,  24,  1826. — It  is  near  the  hour  of  midnight.  The  stillness 
of  the  house,  the  calmness  of  nature,  the  lustre  reflected  from  the 
new-fallen  snow  by  the  light  of  the  almost  full-orbed  moon,  the 
lengthened  shadow  of  the  trees,  stript  of  their  verdure,  the  clearness 
of  the  sky,  displaying  the  starry  gems  of  heaven,  or  losing  itself  in 
mellowing  clouds,  all  combine  to  tranquilize  the  mind,  to  fill  the  soul 
with  solemnity  and  awe,  and  raise  the  thoughts  in  holy  adoration. 
The  day  is  past — its  transactions  closed — its  account  sealed  up  for 
eternity.  And  thus  our  mortal  days  will  all  fleet  away,  and  soon 
the  last  will  arrive.  And  can  I  be  regardless  for  one  moment  of  the 
solemn  consequences  that  will  be  the  result  of  my  daily  conduct  ? 
Jesus  Savior,  to  thee  again  I  flee ;  Oh  pardon  the  sins  and  follies  of 
the  past  day.  Grant  me  sanctifying,  quickening,  preventing  grace ; 
and  while  I  am  permitted  to  continue  in  this  state  of  trial,  let  me  not 
live  in  vain." 

It  is  evident  from  the  journal  of  Mrs.  Allen  that  she  took  great  de- 
light in  the  Sabbath,  as  a  day  of  holy  rest.  On  the  9th  of  March, 
1823,  she  writes — 

"  With  emotions  of  sacred  pleasure  would  I  hail  the  return  of  the 
holy  Sabbath— gracious  appointment  of  heaven  for  the  refreshment 
of  weary  pilgrims,  wandering  through  the  mazes  of  sin  and  wicked- 
ness in  the  desert  wilds  of  this  world,  and  directing  their  course  tow- 
ards the  heavenly  Canaan,  the  mansion  of  eternal  rest.     How  sweet 


MRS.  MYRA  W.  ALLEN.  599 

to  find  in  the  sanctuary  a  sacred  retreat  from  the  cares  and  perplex- 
ities which  attend  us  through  the  week — to  unite  in  the  solemn  pray- 
ers and  sacred  songs  of  praise,  and  to  listen  to  the  faithful  dispensa- 
tion of  the  word  of  life  !  O  gracious  Father  !  may  I  this  day  expe- 
rience these  divine  joys  in  thy  house  ;  may  I  be  washed  from  my  in- 
numerable sins  in  the  fountain  of  redeeming  blood ;  be  delivered  from 
wandering  thoughts,  and  attend  with  solemn  reverence  to  the  minis- 
trations of  thy  word." 

In  May,  1S27,  Mrs.  Allen  was  married  to  the  Rev.  David  Oliver 
Allen,  and  with  him  embarked  at  Boston  for  Calcutta,  on  the  6th  of 
June  following.  She  arrived  at  Bombay  on  the  28th  of  the  next 
November.  On  the  first  of  May,  immediately  after  deciding  to  be- 
come a  partner  in  the  trials  and  labors  of  a  mission  to  the  heathen, 
she  made  an  entry  in  her  journal,  which  shows  with  how  much 
anxiety  and  prayerfulness  she  labored  to  ascertain  her  duty  on  that 
point,  and  how  firmly  and  cheerfully  her  mind  was  made  up  to  the 
work. 

"  For  several  days  the  conflict  of  my  mind  was  so  great  as  to  de- 
stroy my  relish  for  food,  and  almost  to  deprive  me  of  sleep.  But  I 
desire  to  bless  God  that  he  has,  if  I  rightly  interpret  the  indications 
of  his  providence,  shed  light  on  my  path,  and  shewn  the  way  in 
which  he  would  have  me  go,  for  I  trust  he  has  enabled  me  to  lift  up 
my  soul  to  him  for  direction." 

"  And  now  I  am  decided.  Yes,  I  will  offer  myself  a  living  sacri- 
fice, to  assist,  so  far  as  he  shall  give  ability,  in  the  arduous  labors  of  ex- 
tending a  knowledge  of  salvation  to  the  heathen.  And  in  making  this 
surrender,  I  feel  most  happy.  Yes,  I  will  bless  my  covenant  God 
and  Savior  for  the  high  privilege  of  enduring  hardships  and  priva- 
tions for  "  him,  who,  though  he  was  rich,  for  our  sakes  became  poor." 
Yet  I  know  that  his  grace  alone  can  sustain  me.  I  would  not  "  trust 
in  my  own  heart,"  nor  neglect  to  "  count  the  cost."  I  would  not, 
I  trust  I  do  not  rush  into  this  work  uncalled." 

On  the  fifth  of  February,  1831,  it  pleased  the  Lord,  in  a  sudden 
and  afflictive  manner,  to  remove  Mrs.  Allen  by  death.  She  had 
entered  on  her  missionary  labors  with  much  zeal,  and  had  applied 
herself  to  the  attainment  of  the  Mahratta  language  with  much  suc- 
cess ;  and  in  the  formation  and  superintendence  of  female  schools, 
in  the  direct  religious  instruction  of  the  scholars  connected  with  them, 
and  other  adults  who  were  attracted  by  her  influence  and  exertions ; 
in  the  visitation  of  the  sick  and  afflicted,  in  administering  counsel  to 
those  who  viewed  her  as  a  friend,  and  in  many  other  ways,  which 
need  not  be  mentioned,  she  accomplished  much  good.  Her  mission- 
ary course  was  short,  extending  to  less  than  three  years  and  a  quar- 
ter. But  she  has  left  evidence  that  she  was  habitually  ready  for  her 
departure.  About  a  year  after  her  arrival  at  Bombay,  on  the  anni- 
versary of  her  birth-day,  she  made  the  following  entry  in  her  journal* 


000  MEMOIRS  OF 

"  Many  years  have  passed  away  since  I  have  occupied  a  place  in 
the  vineyard  of  the  Lord,  and  many  mercies  have  I  received.  To 
me  there  must  ere  long  be  a  last  yea?*,  a  last  day,  a  last  moment. 

1  hear  the  admonitory  voice,  "  Do  with  thy  might  what  thy  hand 
findeth  to  do,  the  night  cometh,  when  no  man  can  work."  Perhaps 
it  may  be  near  to  me,  even  the  night  of  death.  But  the  dawn  of 
eternal  day  is  discovered  by  the  eye  of  faith  ;  and,  though  the  black- 
ness of  darkness  awaits  all  unbelievers,  yet  they  who  trust  in  Jesus 
shall  be  saved  from  that  awful  state.  Though  many  and  dark  be  the 
stains  of  sin,  yet  the  blood  of  Christ  cleanseth  from  all  sin,  and  robes 
of  glory  shall  forever  adorn  those  who  have  washed  in  that  precious 
fountain.  I  have  given  myself  in  covenant  to  God  to  be  his  for  time 
and  eternity,  and  if  I  am  his  in  life,  I  shall  be  also  in  death." 

Mrs.  Allen  died  in  great  peace,  and  in  the  exercise  of  an  over- 
coming faith,  deeply  beloved  and  lamented  by  her  associates  in  labor5 
and  by  many  of  the  natives  to  whom  her  kindness  had  much  en- 
deared her. 

The  funeral  was  attended  from  the  mission  chapel  on  the  same  day, 
when  numerous  friends  testified  their  respect  for  the  character  of  the 
deceased.  On  the  evening  of  the  day  following,  the  Rev.  John  Wil- 
son, Scottish  missionary,  and  author  of  the  valuable  Life  of  Eliot,  the 
apostle  to  the  Indians,  which  has  been  re-published  by  the  American 
Sunday  School  Union,  preached  a  sermon  on  occasion  of  her  death, 
from  Heb.  xi.  13.  The  subjoined  extract  from  his  sermon  gives  a 
just  view  of  her  character. 

"  My  brethren,  the  circumstances  and  character  of  the  beloved 
friend,  whom  God  in  his  adorable  Providence  has  so  lately  removed 
from  us,  and  whose  loss  we  so  deeply  lament,  were  in  many  respects 
similar  to  those  of  the  witnesses,  mentioned  in  the  chapter  from  which 
our  text  is  taken.  She  possessed  that  "  faith,  which  is  the  substance 
of  things  hoped  for,  and  the  evidence  of  things  not  seen."  Like 
Enoch,  she  "walked  with  God,"  enjoying  his  favor,  and  delighting 
in  his  service.  Like  Abraham,  she  looked  to  this  land  of  spiritual 
promise,  and,  with  fervent  and  holy  desire  of  being  a  coadjutor  in 
the  great  work  of  making  known  to  its  benighted  inhabitants  the  glad 
tidings  of  salvation  through  a  crucified  Redeemer,  she  left  her  kin- 
dred and  her  father's  house — the  scenes  of  her  tender  association 
and  holy  impression,  and  sojourned  in  a  land,  whose  attractions  are 
not  those  of  ease  and  worldly  enjoyment,  but  to  which  she  was  at- 
tached by  deep  compassion  and  ardent  sympathy  for  the  lost  children 
of  the  family  of  man,  and  by  zeal  for  the  divine  glory.  In  this  situ- 
ation in  which  she  was  placed,  and  in  the  labor  which  she  was  called 
to  perform,  she  found  something  more  than  contentment  and  resigna- 
tion—she  found  occasions  of  gratitude,  and  sources  of  the  highest 
joy.  The  work  was  congenial  to  her  mind,  and  dear  to  her  soul. 
She  hallowed  it  with  her  prayers,  and  devoted  to  it,  without  reserva- 
tion, her  time,  her  strength,  and  her  talents.     With  the  most  commen- 


MRS.  MTRA  W.  ALLEN.  601 

dable  diligence  she  made  herself  acquainted,  in  a  degree  seldom  ex- 
hibited by  her  sex,  with  the  language  and  customs  of  a  large  portion 
of  the  natives,  who  at  first  appeared  to  her  as  a  people  of  a  strange 
countenance  and  a  strange  tongue.  The  degraded  females  around 
us,  both  old  and  young,  heard  from  her  lips  the  doctrine  of  salvation. 
They  observed  her  holy  walk,  and  the  operation  of  that  principle  by 
which  she  condemned  the  world.  Those  who  were  acquainted  with 
her  know  her  excellence  and  appreciated  her  worth.  They  witness- 
ed her  deadness  to  the  world,  and  her  desire  for  an  entrance  into  that 
city  which  hath  foundations,  and  whose  builder  and  maker  is  God. 
They  knew  the  meekness  of  her  spirit  and  her  unwearied  benevo- 
lence. They  saw  the  peace  of  the  gospel,  which  passeth  all  under- 
standing, sustain  her  in  the  hour  of  affliction  and  trial.  They  heard 
her,  in  view  of  her  dissolution  and  her  solemn  entrance  into  eternity, 
express  her  humble  reliance  on  the  Redeemer.  And  in  the  exercise 
of  faith  they  traced  her  ascent  to  that  great  cloud  of  witnesses,  who 
urge  us  to  lay  aside  every  weight,  and  the  sin  which  doth  most  easily 
beset  us,  and  to  run  with  patience  the  race  that  is  set  before  us." 

From  the  Missionary  Herald,  "Vol.  xxvii. — 1S31,  and  Vol.  xxviii. — 1832. 


7(3 


602 


MISS  HANNAH  ADAMS. 


For  an  account  of  this  eminent  lady,  we  are  indebted  to  her  own 
history  of  her  life,  the  only  document  that  contains  the  materials  of 
her  biography. 

I  was  born  in  Medfield,  a  country  town  about  eighteen  miles  from 
Boston.  My  father  early  imbibed  a  love  of  literature,  and  prepared 
to  enter  the  university.  But  as  his  constitution  then  appeared  to  be 
very  infirm,  and  he  was  an  only  son,  his  parents  were  strenuously 
opposed  to  his  leaving  them.  Accordingly,  to  his  inexpressible  dis- 
appointment, he  was  obliged  to  settle  upon  their  large  farm,  without 
a  suitable  knowledge  of,  or  taste  for,  agricultural  pursuits.  This  in- 
duced him  to  open  a  shop,  for  the  sale,  principally,  of  English  goods 
and  books.  His  taste  for  reading  continued  unabated  till  his  death, 
which  took  place  at  the  advanced  age  of  eighty  eight  years. 

From  my  infancy  I  had  a  feeble  constitution ;  in  particular,  an 
extreme  weakness  and  irritability  in  my  nervous  system.  Hence  I 
can  recollect  uneasiness  and  pain  previous  to  any  pleasurable  sensa- 
tions. My  mother  was  an  excellent  woman,  and  deservedly  esteem- 
ed and  beloved ;  but  as  her  own  health  was  delicate,  and  she  pos- 
sessed great  tenderness  and- sensibility,  I  was  educated  in  all  the 
habits  of  debilitating  softness,  which  probably  added  to  my  constitu- 
tional want  of  bodily  and  mental  firmness. 

My  father's  circumstances  then  appeared  affluent,  and  it  was  not 
supposed  I  should  be  reduced  to  the  necessity  of  supporting  myself 
by  my  own  exertions.  Partly  from  ill  health,  and  an  early  singular- 
ity of  taste,  I  took  no  pleasure  in  the  amusements  to  which  children 
are  generally  much  attached.  My  health  did  not  even  admit  of  at- 
tending school  with  the  children  in  the  neighborhood  where  I  re- 
sided. The  country  schools,  at  that  time,  were  kept  but  a  few 
months  in  the  year,  and  all  that  was  then  taught  in  them  was  read- 
ing, writing  and  arithmetic.  In  the  summer,  the  children  were  in- 
structed by  females  in  reading,  sewing,  and  other  kinds  of  work. 
The  books  chiefly  made  use  of  were  the  Bible  and  Psalter.  Those 
who  have  had  the  advantages  of  receiving  the  rudiments  of  their 
education  at  the  schools  of  the  present  day,  can  scarcely  form  an 
adequate  idea  of  the  contrast  between  them,  and  those  of  an  earlier 
age ;  and  of  the  great  improvements  which  have  been  made,  even 
in  the  common  country  schools.  The  disadvantages  of  my  early 
education  I  have  experienced  during  life ;  and,  among  various  oth- 
ers, the  acquiring  a  very  faulty  pronunciation ;  a  habit  contracted  so 
early,  that  I  cannot  wholly  rectify  it  in  later  years. 


memoirs,  ho.  603 

In  my  early  years  I  was  extremely  timid,  and  averse  from  appear- 
ing in  company.  Indeed,  I  found  but  few  with  whom  I  could  hap- 
pily associate.  My  life,  however,  was  not  devoid  of  enjoyment. 
The  first  strong  propensity  of  my  mind  which  I  can  recollect,  was 
an  ardent  curiosity,  and  desire  to  acquire  knowledge.  I  remember 
that  my  first  idea  of  the  happiness  of  Heaven  was,  of  a  place  where 
we  should  find  our  thirst  for  knowledge  fully  gratified.  From  my 
predominant  taste,  I  was  induced  to  apply  to  reading,  and  as  my 
father  had  a  considerable  library,  I  was  enabled  to  gratify  my  inclin- 
ation. I  read  with  avidity  a  variety  of  books,  previously  to  my  mind's 
being  sufficiently  matured  and  strengthened  to  make  a  proper  selec- 
tion. I  was  passionately  fond  of  novels;  and,  as  I  lived  in  a  state 
of  seclusion,  I  acquired  false  ideas  of  life.  The  ideal  world  which 
my  imagination  formed  was  very  different  from  the  real.  My  pas- 
sions were  naturally  strong,  and  this  kind  of  reading  heightened  my 
sensibility,  by  calling  it  forth  to  realize  scenes  of  imaginary  distress. 
I  was  also  an  enthusiastic  admirer  of  poetry;  and  as  my  memory, 
at  an  early  period,  was  very  tenacious,  I  committed  much  of  the 
writings  of  my  favorite  poets  to  memory,  such  as  Milton,  Thomson, 
Young,  he.  I  did  not,  however,  neglect  the  study  of  history  and 
biography,  in  each  of  which  kind  of  reading  I  found  an  inexhausti- 
ble fund  to  feast  my  mind,  and  gratify  my  curiosity. 

Another  source  of  my  enjoyments  in  early  life  was  an  ardent  ad- 
miration of  the  beauties  of  nature.  This  enthusiasm  was  heightened 
by  the  glowing  descriptions  of  poetic  writers,  and  I  entered  into  all 
their  feelings.  This  taste  has  continued  through  life.  At  the  pres- 
ent time,  when  age  and  experience  have  in  some  measure  repressed 
the  warmth  of  my  feelings,  and  while  I  am  now  writing,  I  should  be 
more  delighted  with  beautiful  rural  prospects,  and  fine  flowers,  than 
when  in  early  life  I  used  to  be  enraptured  with  contemplating  the  sub- 
lime and  beautiful  in  the  works  of  creation. 

My  early  life  was  diversified  with  few  events,  and  those  of  a  pain- 
ful nature.  The  loss  of  my  excellent  mother,  which  happened  when 
I  had  reached  my  tenth  year,  was  the  first  severe  trial  I  was  called 
to  suffer.  When  her  death  took  place,  I  was  at  an  age  when  ma- 
ternal direction  is  of  the  greatest  importance,  particularly  in  the  ed- 
ucation of  daughters.  Soon  after,  1  was  bereaved  of  an  aunt,  who 
was  attached  to  me  with  almost  maternal  fondness.  A  few  years 
after,  my  father  failed  in  trade,  in  consequence  of  which  I  was  redu- 
ced to  poverty,  with  a  constitution  and  early  habits  which  appeared 
invincible  obstacles  to  my  supporting  myself  by  my  own  exertions. 
Instead  of  that  gayety,  which  is  often  attendant  on  youth,  I  was  ear- 
ly accustomed  to  scenes  of  melancholy  and  distress ;  and  every  mis- 
fortune was  enhanced  by  a  radical  want  of  health,  and  firmness  of 
mind.  My  life  passed  in  seclusion,  with  gloomy  prospects  before 
me,  and  surrounded  with  various  perplexities  from  which  I  could  not 
extricate  myself.     The  solitude  in  which  I  lived  was,  however,  to 


604  MEMOIRS    OF 

me,  preferable  to  society  in  general ;  and  to  that,  and  to  my  natural 
singularity,  I  must  impute  that  awkwardness  of  manners,  of  which  I 
never  could  divest  myself  at  an  advanced  period  of  life.  A  con- 
sciousness of  this  awkwardness  produced  a  dislike  to  the  company 
of  strangers.  Those  who  have  been  accustomed  to  genteel  society 
when  young,  can  scarcely  imagine  the  trembling  timidity  I  felt,  when 
introduced  to  my  superiors  in  circumstances  and  education.  I,  how- 
ever, enjoyed  society  upon  a  small  scale.  I  had  a  few  dear  friends, 
(for  novels  had  taught  me  to  be  very  romantic,)  who  were  chiefly  in 
indigent  circumstances,  and  like  myself  had  imbibed  a  taste  for  read- 
ing, and  were  particularly  fond  of  poetry  and  novels.  Most  of  them 
wrote  verses,  which  were  read  and  admired  by  the  whole  little  cir- 
cle. Our  mutual  love  of  literature,  want  of  fortune,  and  indifference 
to  the  society  of  those  whose  minds  were  wholly  uncultivated,  serv- 
ed to  cement  a  union  between  us,  which  was  interrupted  only  by  the 
removal  of  the  parties  to  distant  places,  and  dissolved  only  by  their 
death.  Yet  I  soon  experienced  this  melancholy  change.  One  aft- 
er another  became  victims  to  the  King  of  Terrors,  till  our  little  so- 
ciety was  greatly  diminished  ;  and  I  deeply  felt  these  bereavements 
which  were  irreparable. 

Sill,  however,  I  was  blessed  with  a  sister  of  similar  taste  and  sen- 
timents, but  very  different  in  her  disposition.  I  was  warm  and  irri- 
table in  my  temper ;  she,  placid  and  even.  I  was  fluctuating  and 
undecided  ;  she,  steady  and  judicious.  I  was  extremely  timid  ;  she 
blended  softness  with  courage  and  fortitude.  I  was  inclined  to  be 
melancholy,  though  sometimes  in  high  spirits ;  she  was  uniformly 
serene  and  cheerful.  I  placed  the  strongest  reliance  upon  her  judg- 
ment, and  as  she  was  older  than  myself,  she  seemed  the  maternal 
friend,  as  well  as  the  best  of  sisters.  In  short,  "  she  was  my  guide, 
my  friend,  my  earthly  all." 

As  I  was  too  feeble  to  engage  in  any  laborious  employments,  I 
found  considerable  leisure  for  reading;  and  as  my  happiness  chiefly 
consisted  in  literary  pursuits,  I  was  very  desirous  of  learning  the  ru- 
diments of  Latin,  Greek,  geography  and  logic.  Some  gentlemen 
who  boarded  at  my  father's  offered  to  instruct  me  in  these  branches 
of  learning  gratis,  and  I  pursued  these  studies  with  indescribable 
pleasure  and  avidity.  I  still,  however,  sensibly  felt  the  want  of  a 
more  systematic  education,  and  those  advantages  which  females  en- 
joy in  the  present  day.  Yet  as  I  always  read  with  great  rapidity, 
perhaps  few  of  my  sex  have  perused  more  books  at  the  age  of 
twenty  than  I  had.  Yet  my  reading  was  very  desultory,  and  novels 
engaged  too  much  of  my  attention.  Though  my  seclusion  from  the 
world  preserved  me  from  many  temptations  which  are  incident  to 
young  people,  I  was  perhaps  more  exposed  to  errors  of  the  under- 
standing, than  those  who  in  early  life  have  mixed  more  with  the 
wrorld.  Time  and  experience  have  led  me  to  see  the  falsity  of  many 
of  my  early  opinions  and  ideas,  and  made  me  sensible  that  they  were 
the  source  of  a  large  share  of  the  misfortunes  of  my  following  life. 


MISS  HANNAH  ADAMS.  605 

The  habits  of  reading  and  study  in  which  Miss  Adams  lived  for 
many  years,  had  the  effect  of  unfitting  her  for  ordinary  occupations ; 
while  her  circumstances  rendered  it  necessary  that  she  should  in  some 
way  labor  for  her  own  support.  These  reasons  induced  her  to  at- 
tempt the  difficult  and  uncertain  business  of  authorship,  which  be- 
came her  employment  for  a  great  part  of  her  life.  Her  first  effort 
in  this  way  was  her  View  of  Religions,  a  work  which  afterwards  was 
eminently  successful,  and  procured  her  no  little  credit  as  well  as  a 
handsome  profit  in  the  end.  Her  attention  had  been  first  directed 
to  the  subject  by  reading  an  account  of  the  doctrinal  differences  be- 
tween Arminian,  Calvinists,  and  several  other  common  sects.  This 
awakened  her  curiosity,  and  she  arduously  engaged  in  perusing  all 
the  books  which  she  could  obtain,  that  gave  a  fuller  account  of  the 
subject.  The  style  and  tone  of  most  of  those  authors  whom  she 
consulted,  however,  disgusted  her,  by  the  uncharitableness  and  preju- 
dice which  characterized  them,  and  from  this  she  was  led  to  form  a 
plan  of  the  subject  for  herself,  and  arranged  the  facts,  for  her  own 
improvement,  in  a  blank  book  which  she  prepared  for  that  purpose. 
This  she  did  at  first  merely  with  a  view  to  her  own  instruction,  but 
after  a  while,  finding  herself  obliged  to  procure  some  means  of  sup- 
port, she  was  led  by  the  difficulty  of  finding  employment  to  attempt 
the  preparation  of  the  work  for  the  public.  With  immense  labor 
and  trouble  she  prosecuted  her  undertaking,  which  was  rendered  still 
more  difficult  by  the  scarcity  of  proper  materials  that  her  situation 
prevented  her  procuring,  till  after  various  perplexities,  she  succeeded 
in  putting  the  book  to  press  in  1784.  The  profit  which  she  received 
from  the  first  edition  was  small,  but  from  a  second  and  third,  she  was 
able  to  acquire  more  of  that  emolument  which  was  the  just  reward 
of  her  labor. 

The  work  which  she  gave  to  the  world  in  these  inauspicious  cir- 
cumstances has  justly  had  the  reputation  of  being  the  most  complete 
and  important  work  of  the  kind  ever  before  produced,  and  fixed  her 
reputation  high  and  permanently. 

While  she  was  preparing  the  second  edition  of  her  View  of  Re- 
ligions, she  suffered  a  most  afflicting  bereavement  in  the  loss  of  the 
beloved  sister,  whom  she  has  mentioned  in  her  own  account  of  her- 
self. She  then  experienced  the  keenest  anguish  the  human  heart 
can  feel  in  losing  a  friend,  and  for  a  long  time  did  not  recover  from 
the  shock  caused  by  the  removal  of  one  so  precious  and  valued. 
Under  this  calamity  Miss  Adams  drew  her  support  from  religion 
alone,  as  her  manuscripts  written  at  the  time  very  clearly  show.  She 
employed  herself  when  unable  to  compose,  in  making  extracts  from 
the  Scriptures,  which  she  applied  to  her  particular  state  of  mind. 
These  she  arranged  in  a  little  book  which  she  preserved  till  her  death. 

The  next  literary  work  in  which  Miss  Adams  engaged  was  her 
History  of  New  England,  which  she  published,  without  any  profit 
to  herself,  however,  though  it  went  through  two  editions.     When 


606  MEMOIRS  OP 

she  compiled  this  work,  there  was  no  history  of  New  England  extant, 
except  such  as  related  to  the  earliest  periods  of  its  annals.  She 
was,  therefore,  obliged  to  go  through  with  much  laborious  examina- 
tion of  public  records  which  was  very  fatiguing  to  her,  and  very 
exhausting  to  her  eyes,  which  was  the  more  unfortunate  as  she  was 
thus  for  a  time  deprived  of  the  means  of  employing  her  pen,  while 
the  work  on  which  she  bestowed  so  much  pains  never  properly  re- 
warded her  exertions. 

She  formed  the  design  of  writing  the  History  of  the  Jews,  which 
she  executed  accordingly,  after  much  laborious  and  faithful  investi- 
gation of  facts  relating  to  the  subject.  In  this  work  she  was  much 
assisted  by  the  kindness  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Buckminster,  of  Boston, 
whose  friendship  and  regard  for  her  continued  till  his  death. 

The  only  other  works  which  she  ever  published  were,  "  The  truth 
and  excellence  of  the  Christian  Religion  exhibited,"  a  valuable  work 
containing  short  sketches  of  the  lives  of  eminent  laymen  who  have 
written  in  defence  of  the  Christian  religion,  with  extracts  from  their 
writings ;  and  in  her  more  advanced  age,  a  little  book  entitled  "  Let- 
ters on  the  Gospels,"  which  passed  through  two  editions. 

Though  her  character  was  marked  by  some  inoffensive  peculiari- 
ties, Miss  Adams  passed  through  life  respected  and  honored  by  the 
public,  and  loved  by  all  who  knew  her.  During  a  long  life  of  use- 
fulness, she  exemplified  the  Christian  virtues  in  an  eminent  degree, 
and  at  last  in  the  decline  of  old  age,  sunk  to  eternal  rest  in  a  calm 
and  humble  if  not  triumphant  hope. 

That  she  perfectly  understood  her  weaknesses,  and  moral  expo- 
sures, and  guarded  in  her  heart  the  avenues  to  temptation,  the  follow- 
ing resolutions  found  among  her  papers,  are  a  sufficient  proof. 

Serious  Resolutions. 

I  resolve  to  read  the  bible  more  attentively  and  diligently,  and  to 
be  constant  and  fervent  in  prayer  for  divine  illumination  and  direction. 

2d.  To  read  less  from  curiosity,  and  a  desire  to  acquire  worldly 
knowledge,  and  more  for  the  regulation  of  my  heart  and  life  ;  con- 
sequently, to  have  my  reading  less  desultory,  and  to  read  more 
books  of  practical  divinity. 

3d.  In  choosing  my  friends  and  companions,  to  have  a  greater  re- 
gard to  religious  characters  than  I  have  hitherto  had. 

4th.  To  avoid  such  company  as  has  a  tendency  to  unsettle  my 
mind  respecting  religious  opinions. 

5th.  To  endeavor  to  preserve  a  firm  reliance  on  Divine  Provi- 
dence, and  to  avoid  all  unreasonable  worldly  care  and  anxiety. 

6th.  To  pray  and  guard  against  loving  my  friends  with  that  ardent 
attachment,  and  that  implicit  reliance  upon  them,  which  is  incom- 
patible with  supreme  love  to,  and  trust  in  God  alone. 

7th.  To  endeavor  to  obtain  a  spirit  of  forgiveness  towards  my 
enemies,  and  to  banish  from  my  mind  all  those  feelings  of  resent- 
ment, which  are  incompatible  with  the  spirit  of  the  gospel. 


MISS    HANNAH    ADAMS.  607 

But  little  remains  to  be  added  to  this  short  sketch,  and  that  little 
perhaps  is  expressed  in  the  obituary  notice  which  we  subjoin. 

Died  at  Brookline,  near  Boston,  on  the  15th  inst.  Miss  Hannah 
Adams,  aged  seventy  six.  Her  literary  labors  have  long  been  be- 
fore the  public,  and  have  made  her  name  known  in  Europe  as  well 
as  in  her  native  land.  Her  first  work,  the  '  View  of  Religions,'  was 
published  at  a  time  when  this  country  had  few  authors,  and  when  a 
book  from  a  female  hand  was  almost  without  a  precedent.  She  was 
not  impelled  by  any  desire  of  fame  ;  and  though  the  hope  of  useful- 
ness, was  undoubtedly  a  strong  motive  to  her  literary  exertions,  yet 
this  would  not  have  availed,  without  the  prospect  of  contributing  by 
her  pen  to  her  own  support,  and  the  comfort  of  her  nearest  friends. 
It  is  gratifying  to  know,  that  she  has  left  behind  a  simple  and  inte- 
resting memoir  of  her  early  life,  which  precludes  ihe  necessity  of 
saying  more  of  her  literary  history.  Indeed,  literary  claims  are 
perhaps  among  the  last  that,  at  a  moment  like  this,  present  them- 
selves to  the  minds  of  her  friends.  The  virtues  and  excellences  of 
her  character,  her  blameless  life,  her  sensibility,  the  warmth  of  her 
affections,  her  sincerity  and  candor,  call  forth  a  flow  of  feeling  that 
cannot  be  restrained.  To  an  almost  child-like  simplicity,  and  single- 
ness of  heart  she  united  a  clear  and  just  conception  of  character ; 
to  a  deep  and  affecting  humility,  a  dignity  and  elevation  of  thought, 
that  commanded  the  respect  and  veneration  of  those  around  her. 
Amid  many  infirmities  she  retained  the  freshness  and  enthusiasm 
of  youth.  Society  never  lost  its  charms.  To  the  aged  she  listened 
with  submission  and  gentleness ;  to  the  classic  and  highly  gifted,  with 
a  delight  almost  amounting  to  rapture.  The  young,  and  there  were 
such  who  felt  it  a  privilege  to  '  sit  at  her  feet,'  she  viewed  as  '  minis- 
tering angels'  dispensing  joy  and  gladness.  Her  love  of  nature  was 
exhaustless.  The  first  beam  of  morning,  the  glory  of  noon,  the 
last  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  were  objects  which  through  a  long  life 
were  never  contemplated  with  indifference.  Those  who  were  in 
the  habit  of  visiting  her,  will  recollect  how  constantly  her  apartment 
was  decorated  by  flowers  of  the  field,  or  the  garden.  It  was  her 
object  to  gather  round  her  images  of  natural  and  moral  beauty.  In 
many  respects  her  mind  seemed  so  truly  constituted  for  enjoyment, 
that  to  those  who  knew  her  but  slightly,  she  might  have  appeared 
to  be  exempted  from  that  mental  discipline,  which  is  gradually  lead- 
ing the  pilgrim  on  to  the  land  of  promise.  But  her  friends  knew 
otherwise ;  they  knew  how  keen  was  her  religious  sensibility,  how 
tremblingly  alive  her  conscience,  how  high  her  standard  of  excel- 
lence, and  how  great  her  timidity  and  self-distrust,  and  they  felt  that 
this  was  not  her  haven  of  rest. 

Though  Miss  Adams's  faith  was  fervent  and  devout,  it  partook  of 
the  constitution  of  her  sensitive  mind,  rather  than  gave  the  tone  to 
it.  Yet  amidst  moments  of  doubt  and  despondency,  a  passage  from 
scripture,  or  a  judicious  observation,  would  disperse  the  clouds  that 


s**- 


608  MEMOIRS,   &C. 

had  gathered  around  her,  and  the  brightest  sunshine  would  diffuse  it- 
self over  her  mind  and  countenance.  There  are  many  who  will  sor- 
row that  they  shall  see  her  *  face  no  more  ;'  but  those  who  knew  the 
peculiar  delicacy  of  her  constitution,  ought  rather  to  rejoice  that  she 
has  escaped  from  the  present  inclement  winter ;  from  the  stormy 
wind  and  tempest ;  that  her  eyes  have  opened  upon  one  eternal 
spring,  a  season  that  always  awoke  the  enthusiasm  of  her  nature, 
and  which  she  said  seemed  to  her '  like  the  first  freshness  of  creation.' 
It  was  her  happiness  to  have  been  conversant  with  some  of  the 
most  enlightened  and  gifted  men  of  the  age.  From  many  she  re- 
ceived essential  benefit ;  and  the  universal  sympathy  and  respect, 
as  well  as  the  individual  kindness  which  she  excited,  are  testimonies 
honorable  to  human  nature.  Many  in  whom  she  delighted  have 
passed  away.  To  those  she  has  gone,  and  to  the  Father  and  Sa- 
vior whom  she  loved. 

From  the  Memoir  of  Miss  Hannah  Adams  written  by  herself,  with  additional  no- 
tices by  a  friend.    Boston,  1832. 


THE    END. 


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