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MODEL WOMEN.
BY
WILLIAM ANDERSON,
AUTHOR OF “SELF-MADE MEN,” “KINGS OF SOCIETY,” ETC., ETC.
“Noble examples excite us to noble deeds.”—Seneca.
“She was feminine only by her sex—in mind she was superior to men.”
—Gregory Nazianzen.
“The woman’s cause is man’s: they rise or sink
Together, dwarfed or godlike, bond or free.”—Tennyson.
London.
HODDER & STOUGHTON,
27, PATERNOSTER ROW.
MDCCCLXX.
TO YOUNG WOMEN.
My dear Friends,
This volume is dedicated to you, because I believe in the principles it enunciates, and hope that many of your sex may get them lodged in their minds; and the conclusions to which they lead carried out in their lives. While feeling a warm interest in your honour, I have endeavoured to avoid all indiscriminate eulogiums on the eminent women here portrayed. The object of biography is to teach by example; and although perfection is claimed for none of the models here presented, yet each is worthy of being enshrined in your hearts.
Whilst I should be sorry to see woman exchanging her home for the market-place, and her nursery for the arena, I am anxious that she should not be robbed of some of the purest joys of life; and that society, which so much needs her help, should not be defrauded of her service. The housewife is woman’s proudest name. Honourable is her distaff, and equally honourable her careful management and thrift. But while discharging these duties with propriety—while taking nothing from her family—she ought to give fair attention to the many grievous wrongs which at present shackle her independence and limit her usefulness. Woman is something more than a mere housekeeper or nurse. Let her be trained as a thinking being. By aiming at being only domestic, she will cease to be truly domestic.
In my selection of examples, I have necessarily been under the control of circumstances. Not a few women, eminent in many respects, have been excluded from this collection, because, in consequence of some sad defects, they could not be held up as models of true womanhood. Several fairly entitled to places among “Model Women” would have been here, but, happily, they are still living; and for various reasons I determined to confine myself to the dead. My intention has been to include only a few of the actors and thinkers who have attained extensive celebrity; and the difficulty of fixing upon these I have found so great, that I am prepared to have the judiciousness of my choice frequently questioned. But I trust a sufficient number of lives are here recorded to kindle in your breasts aspirations after those excellences which adorn human existence.
The end of writing memoirs should be the exhibition of truth in all its loveliness, and virtue with all her charms. This object I have not lost sight of for one moment in writing these pages; but directly or indirectly have framed every sentence in accordance with it.
Imperfections you will doubtless detect in this volume; of some I am sufficiently aware; but am less anxious to obtain your applause, or to bespeak your candour, than to win your sympathy in my subject; and I feel confident that whether you acquiesce in few or many of my views, you will at least honour the motive which prompted me to make them known.
I am,
Yours very cordially,
WILLIAM ANDERSON.
Cambridge Cottage, Merton, S.W.,
September, 1870.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
TRUE WOMANHOOD.
Female education.—Physical training.—Intellectual development.—Moral discipline.—Spiritual culture.—Education complete
Page 1
CHAPTER II.
PECULIARITIES OF FEMALE CHARACTER.
Woman in relation to man.—Corporeal organization.—Patient endurance.—Caution.—Sympathy.—Love of approbation.—Tenacity of purpose.—Modesty.—Discernment of character.—Piety
Page 29
CHAPTER III.
DOMESTIC WOMEN.
Section I.—Susanna Wesley.
Woman’s sphere.—Biography.—A noble wife.—A good mother.—Home education.—Relation to Methodism.—Character of Mrs. Wesley
Page 55
Section II.—Eliza Hessel.
Woman’s mission.—Biography.—A right purpose in life.—An excellent daughter.—A loving sister.—Household management.—Character of Miss Hessel
Page 72
CHAPTER IV.
PHILANTHROPIC WOMEN.
Section I.—Elizabeth Fry.
Woman’s work.—Biography.—Early schemes of usefulness.—The prisoner’s friend.—Family bereavements.—Relative duties.—Character of Mrs. Fry
Page 88
Section II.—Amelia Wilhelmina Sieveking.
Woman’s rights.—Biography.—Amateur teaching.—Services in the hospital.—Protestant sisterhoods.—Spinsters respectable, happy, and useful.—Character of Miss Sieveking
Page 104
CHAPTER V.
LITERARY WOMEN.
Section I.—Hannah More.
Literature.—Biography.—Successful authorship.—Character of Mrs. More
Page 122
Section II.—Anne Grant.
Letter-writers.—Biography.—Literary career.—Character of Mrs. Grant
Page 135
Section III.—Anne Louisa Staël.
Versatility of genius.—Biography.—Analysis of writings.—Character of Mad. de Staël
Page 148
Section IV.—Carolina, Baroness Nairne.
What is poetry.—Biography.—Extracts and criticisms.—Character of Baroness Nairne
Page 162
Section V.—Felicia Dorothea Hemans.
Lyric poetry.—Biography.—Review of poems.—Character of Mrs. Hemans
Page 175
Section VI.—Elizabeth Barrett Browning.
Epic poetry.—Biography.—Place as a poetess.—Character of Mrs. Browning
Page 188
Section VII.—Charlotte Nicholls. [Currer Bell.]
Works of fiction.—Biography.—Merits as a novelist.—Character of Mrs. Nicholls
Page 200
CHAPTER VI.
SCIENTIFIC WOMEN.
Section I.—Caroline Lucretia Herschel.
Astronomy.—Biography.—Astronomical discoveries.—Works on astronomy.—Character of Miss Herschel.
Page 216
Section II.—Jane Anne Taylor. [Janet Taylor.]
Navigation.—Biography.—Publications on navigation.—Nautical and mathematical academy.—Character of Mrs. Taylor
Page 228
CHAPTER VII.
HOLY WOMEN.
Section I.—Selina, Countess of Huntingdon.
The gospel not a thing of sex.—Biography.—Conversion.—The higher Christian life.—Chaplains.—Founder of a religious community.—Character of the Countess of Huntingdon
Page 241
Section II.—Elizabeth, Duchess of Gordon.
Religion in high life.—Biography.—Regeneration.—Deepening of the Lord’s work.—Open-air services.—Good works.—Character of the Duchess of Gordon
Page 257
Section III.—Mary Jane Graham.
Piety and circumstance.—Biography.—The great change.—Theological attainments.—Practical religion.—Progress and power.—Character of Miss Graham
Page 273
Section IV.—Fidelia Fiske.
Christianity and human nature.—Biography.—Second and better birth.—Juvenile habit of doing good.—Missionary life.—Showers of blessing.—Character of Miss Fiske
Page 289
CHAPTER VIII.
FORMATION OF FEMALE CHARACTER.
Value and influence of character.—Original constitution.—Family circle.—Society.—Impartative and receptive elements.—Twofold operation of the mind
Page 308
CHAPTER IX.
NATURAL EQUALITY OF THE SEXES.
Difference and similarity.—Political equality.—Social equality.—Intellectual equality.—Moral equality.—Religious equality
Page 329
MODEL WOMEN.
CHAPTER I.
True Womanhood.
“A perfect woman, nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort, and command;
And yet a spirit still and bright,
With something of an angel light.”
William Wordsworth.
FEMALE EDUCATION.
The great question of the day is education. Daughters, as well as sons, are born with faculties capable of improvement; and the claims of the former to as good an education as the latter are beyond dispute. Indeed, some are of opinion that if either of the sexes ought to have a superior education, that boon is the birthright of females. Certainly, women have as important duties to perform as men, and therefore their discipline ought at least to be as strict.
In the more usual sense, education is the art of drawing out, or developing, every part of your many-sided nature. Its object, and when rightly conducted, its result, is to make a perfect creature. Young women are too often allowed to consider that education is the work of girlhood. Strictly speaking, it covers the whole area of life. A great living poet truly says—
“Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our being’s end or way;
But to live that each to-morrow
Finds us farther than to-day.”
We often hear what a glorious thing it is to be a man. With Daniel De Foe, and other great men, we think it as glorious a thing to be a woman. “A woman, well bred and well taught, furnished with the additional accomplishments of knowledge and behaviour, is a creature without comparison.” You are capable of being moulded into the noblest types of womanhood. There is no limit to your progress, no elevation which you may not pass; your present attainments are not the measure of your capabilities.
This book would be radically defective, and would greatly fail in its purpose, did we not attempt to show what woman can be, and what therefore she ought to strive after. The best definition we can give of true womanhood is, that it consists in having all the faculties, physical, intellectual, moral, and spiritual, existing in a healthy and vigorous condition, so as to be able to perform, in an efficient manner, all the functions for which they are destined. Our aim is bold, broad, truthful delineation. We would not lead you to indulge in baseless visions of future eminence; yet your nature is such, that, did you act worthy of it, you might, with the help of God, become more than we are able to describe. The proudest and fairest ideal grows out of the real, and the loftiest tree must have its roots in the ground.
PHYSICAL TRAINING.
In education, as hitherto conducted, the physical powers have not had their due share of attention. Anatomy, physiology, and chemistry clearly teach that the general principles which are true of the vital processes in the lower animals are equally true of the vital processes in human beings. But this has not yet become a part of the living faith of the world. Hundreds and thousands, even among the upper classes, are as ignorant of the wonders and mysteries of the human frame as if God had committed the great practical solecism of making them incapable of self-knowledge. The earth is full of wholesome nourishment, the atmosphere is carefully mixed by a Divine hand, to suit the wants of humanity. Spring, summer, autumn, and winter are each beautiful. The oak is strong, and the rose is lovely; the domestic animals are full of vigour; but the young maiden drops off, smitten by consumption, scrofula, or rapid failure of the vital power. Happily, the laws of health are beginning to attract attention, and we are coming to the conclusion that this great blessing might be much more common.
The principal components of the body will naturally indicate and classify the topics for discussion in dealing with the subject of physical education. The body may be roughly described as an organisation of bones and muscles, permeated by blood, covered with skin, and containing a breathing and digestive apparatus.
The chief process by which life is maintained, and health and strength developed, is the receiving of food. That over-feeding and under-feeding are both bad is a truism. Of the two, however, the latter is the worse. Not only are there a priori reasons for trusting the appetites, but there is no other guidance worthy of the name. Instead of measuring your food by an artificial standard, eat your fill. Have less faith in human opinion, and more confidence in nature. The current idea is, that diet should not only be restricted, but comparatively low; but the verdict of leading physicians and distinguished physiologists is exactly the opposite. The grounds for this conclusion are obvious. Compare different kinds of people, or the same people when differently fed, and you will find overwhelming evidence that the degree of energy essentially depends upon the nutritiveness of the food. Between the ill fed African and the well fed European there is a contrast which no one can fail to notice. Moreover, it is a fact, established by numerous experiments, that there is scarcely one article of diet which supplies all the elements necessary for carrying on the vital processes; and hence, in order to good bodily training, mixture and variety are highly important. The proper beverage for the physical constitution has been warmly discussed of late, and many have, much to their own advantage, and that of society at large, pronounced in favour of water; and although it may not be easy to refute the argument for the moderate use of stimulating liquors, produced from the fruits of the earth by the process of fermentation, in the earlier stages of life water is undoubtedly the best drink at meals for the purpose of quenching thirst.
A good supply of pure air is intimately connected with bodily vigour. There are, in every country, whole districts, of larger or smaller extent, in which the air is either permanently or periodically noxious; its bad qualities arising generally from the miasma of fens, or the mud banks and mud deposits of rivers. In all our towns, large or small, there are to be found narrow streets, dark passages, small courts, and back yards, where the atmosphere is always loaded with impurities, in consequence of imperfect drainage, the accumulation of filth, and the position of the buildings. In such places, the inhabitants are, for the most part, a feeble and sickly race. Even when healthy, it is absolutely certain that the respiratory organs should not always breathe the same atmosphere. The unwholesome rooms in which children are penned up, the close apartments where many women are doomed to labour, and the smoke, chimneys, and long rows of houses that hem in the path of others, are producing sad havoc among the softer sex. If you would have health, strength, and longevity, you must now and then refresh your lungs, by taking a stroll on a common, a walk by the sea-side, or spending a day amid the ranges of the great hills with their wild peaks and morning mists. The breathing of fresh air is, we maintain, an essential part of physical culture.
Cleanliness has a most important and salutary influence on your material nature. In the skin of a person of average size there are tubes connected with the pores, measuring, if put end to end, twenty-eight miles. These ought always to be kept open. Checked perspiration is direct injury to the membranes of the air passages, and frequently to the alimentary canal. It is therefore necessary to remove from the skin all refuse matter from within or without. This can only be done by washing from head to foot every morning and night. It is safe, and for many reasons most beneficial, to use cold water. The flesh brush is of great service in stimulating the skin to action, opening and cleaning out the pores, promoting a copious circulation of blood, and producing a healthful and exhilarating glow; the strength of which sufficiently attests the advantages derived. Soap is useful, and the common and coarse kinds are better than most of those sold by perfumers. Next to cleanliness in your persons, is cleanliness in your dwellings. Every house ought to undergo an annual, or rather half-yearly visitation of all its cellars, its scullery, washhouse, garrets, loft, cupboards, closets, and all dark places and corners, for the removal of dirt, or anything in its wrong place. As nearly as possible the house ought to be turned “out of windows.”
All who know anything about the construction of the human frame admit the necessity of exercise as a means of physical training. Exercise produces strength; inaction produces weakness. If we may trust the author of the “Castle of Indolence,” the women of England, a hundred years ago, were too effeminate:—
“Here languid beauty kept her pale-faced court;
Bevies of dainty dames, of high degree,
From every quarter hither made resort,
Where from gross mortal care and business free
They lay, poured out in ease and luxury:
Or should they a vain show of work assume,
Alas! and well-a-day! what can it be?
To knot, to twist, to range the vernal bloom;
But far is cast the distaff, spinning wheel, and loom.
Their only labour was to kill the time,
And labour dire it is, and weary woe;
They sit, they loll, turn o’er some idle rhyme,
Then, rising sudden, to the glass they go,
Or saunter forth, with tottering step, and slow;
This soon too rude an exercise they find;
Straight on the couch again their limbs they throw,
Where hours on hours they, sighing, lie reclined,
And court the vapoury god soft breathing in the wind.”
This graphic description, with little or no modification, may be applied to a large class still. The peasant girl, when her spirits are buoyant, is allowed to obey her natural feelings—to dance and skip and run; and thus she grows up strong and straight. But the young lady is receiving constant admonitions to curb all propensity to such vulgar activity, and, just in proportion as she subdues nature, she receives the praise of being well-bred. Why this difference? Mammas, aunts, and governesses may be of opinion that a robust physique is undesirable—that health and vigour are plebeian—that delicacy, feebleness, and timidity are ladylike: but rosy cheeks, laughing eyes, and a finely rounded figure draw admiring glances from the opposite sex. A playground is an essential department of every school, and girls as well as boys should be taught the importance of vigorous exertion. But at all periods of life exercise is indispensable to health. Indolence destroys the very capacity of enjoyment; whereas labour puts the body in tone. A sensible young lady, some time ago, wrote as follows to the Medical Journal:—“I used to be so feeble that I could not lift a broom, and the least physical exertion would make me ill for a week. Looking one day at the Irish girls, and noticing their healthy robust appearance, I determined to make a new trial, and see if I could not bring the roses to my cheeks, and rid myself of the dreadful lassitude that oppressed me. One sweeping day I went bravely to work, cleaning the parlours, three chambers, the front stairs and hall, after which I lay down and rested until noon, when I rose and ate a heartier meal than for many a day. Since that time I have been occupied some portion of every day in active domestic labour, and now all my friends are congratulating me upon my improved and wondrous vigour, to which I have hitherto been a stranger. Young ladies, try my catholicon.” Of course, moderation is to be observed in exercise; immoderate exertion produces exhaustion.
It is well known how greatly physical comfort depends upon clothing. The want of sufficient clothing occasions a vast amount of suffering among the poorer classes; and many who can afford to dress as they please subject themselves to various mischiefs, under the influence of ignorance, carelessness, or fashion. The most common mistake is, to dress too coldly in summer and too warmly in winter. Flannel ought to be worn next the skin all the year round. It is of as much use for absorbing the perspiration in hot weather, as for warming the body in cold. “The rule is,” says Dr. Andrew Combe, “not to dress in an invariable way in all cases, but to put on clothing in kind and quantity sufficient in the individual case to protect the body effectually from an abiding sensation of cold, however slight.” Females of all classes need to be warned against the evils of tight lacing. The dress of the bride celebrated in the Song of Solomon combined utility with taste; but our ladies must have habiliments that outrage every law of propriety, and force their bodies into the most unnatural shapes. Loose garments are both cooler in summer and warmer in winter than integuments closely compressing the body.
By attention to these subjects on which suggestions have been offered, you cannot fail to secure the preservation and improvement of the health of the body. It is your duty to employ all practicable means for this purpose. “Know ye not that your bodies are temples of the Holy Ghost?” Honour therefore the body as a holy thing; and beware how you put the chains of slavery upon it, or expose it from selfishness to hunger and nakedness. The importance of physical training needs to be rung into the ears of all, as with the peal of a trumpet. “It is reckoned,” says Dr. Robert Lee in a sermon preached before royalty, “that one hundred thousand persons die annually in England of preventible diseases. In the same proportion more than a million and a quarter must die annually from the same causes in Europe. In the fact that the platform, the press, and the pulpit have lifted up their voices on behalf of physical education, we recognise one of the most hopeful signs of the times.”
INTELLECTUAL DEVELOPMENT.
Although all rational men believe that women ought to be better instructed, there is a class of pedants who are of opinion that the same facilities for the acquisition of knowledge would make them rather the rivals than the companions of men. Hence our famous seats of learning are open to the one sex, and the most tempting prizes are within their reach; but no such privileges are accorded to the other. We are glad that the question regarding the propriety or impropriety of young women availing themselves of an academical education has been raised, in a somewhat unexpected form, at the oldest university in Scotland. A young English lady, Miss Elizabeth Garrett, the daughter of a gentleman of independent fortune, who had educated herself highly in classics and some of the physical sciences, with a view to the study of medicine, visited St. Andrews a few summers ago, and intimated her desire to become a student in several of the classes during the winter. Some of the professors gave her decided encouragement; and others were understood to say that they would offer no opposition. They were all ordinarily gallant, except Professor Ferrier, whose strong conservative tendencies led him to oppose. She applied to the secretary for a matriculation ticket, received the ticket, paid the fee, and signed her name in the book. Next day she presented her ticket to Dr. Heddle, and asked leave to attend his lectures on chemistry. He had no objection, and gave her a letter to Mr. Ireland, authorising him to give her a ticket for the class. In the same way she obtained a ticket for Dr. Day’s class of anatomy and physiology. He gave her a cordial welcome. But alas! the senatus met and passed a resolution to the effect that the issuing of the tickets to Miss Garrett was not sufficiently authorised, that the novel question raised ought to be deliberately considered and decided, that the opinion of other universities and lawyers should be taken, and that in the meantime the lady should not be allowed to attend on the classes of the university. All honour, and all success to those noble men who are labouring to destroy such exclusiveness, and to make these national institutions free to all, whether male or female. Your business, meanwhile, is to make the most and the best of the appliances within your reach.
Different schools of mental philosophy have variously divided and named the intellectual faculties; we are not careful to follow the exact definitions, divisions, or phraseologies of the metaphysician; it will serve our purpose better to take those prominent points which all may comprehend and appreciate. It appears to us that there are four distinct stages of mental development, characterised by four distinct classes of faculties. The first is distinguished by the perceptive; the second by the conceptive; the third by the knowing; and the fourth by the reasoning. These are discriminated from one another by the peculiar activity of the faculties which are distinctive of each; and they are mutually connected by the necessity of a certain amount of simultaneous active development.
The perceptive faculties adapt you to the material world, and furnish you with information concerning the powers, properties, and glories of matter. Their distinctive office is to observe; and they should be cultivated with the utmost care, for they not only lie at the basis of all mental superstructure, by furnishing the other faculties with the stock, or raw materials to work on; but in proportion to the distinctness of the perceptions will be the accuracy of the memory, and probably the precision of the judgment. How then can their power and activity be developed? simply by exercising them—by opening your eyes and keeping them open. The world is full of objects; but multitudes pass through life of whom it may be said, “having eyes they see not.”
The peculiar function of the conceptive faculties is to store the mind with ideas formed out of previous knowledge. When you completely enter into a scene portrayed in history or in poetry, and approach the situation of the actual observer, you are said to conceive what is meant, and also to imagine it. There is a notion pretty prevalent, that the culture of those powers which relate to the ornamental rather than the essential is to be sought only by the rich, or those destined to occupy a high position in society. No mistake could be more mischievous and cruel. Not only are they sources of enjoyment, but the main safeguards of purity—if, indeed, we should distinguish these; for in being the former they become the latter. The means of æsthetic cultivation are, more or less, within the reach of all. Contemplate the towering mountain and the extending plain—the starry firmament and the boundless ocean; listen to music and oratory; visit the galleries of art, mechanism, and industry. But literature is at once the most potent and most widely available instrument for the expansion of the susceptibilities. Literary artists are the true unveilers of nature.
“Blessings be on them, and eternal praise,
The poets who, on earth, have made us heirs
Of truth, and pure delight, by heavenly lays.”
But for them, nature, aye and humanity too, in their higher teachings, would remain sealed books—dead languages, to the millions of the race.
The knowing faculties enable you to apprehend the objects of knowledge, whether generals or particulars, present or absent; and also to classify, extend, and generalise these judgments, and express them in the form of propositions. These mental operations indicate a high region of thought, and give a wide range of view. The study of the abstract terms and phrases of language, arithmetic, geometry, and grammar cultivate these powers. But natural science in its various branches is the grandest instrument for the development of the understanding. It should form a part in the education of every human being; yet it is almost entirely neglected in our schools, and our colleges have rarely given it an adequate place in their curriculum. Let us hope that, in the improvements contemplated in the whole system of education, this lamentable deficiency shall be remedied. Meanwhile, let every woman try to educate herself as best she can. Owing to the inordinate use of pseudo-classical phraseology, this fascinating study has too long been considered as a profession restricted to a favoured few, and interdicted to the many. By means of books written in a simple and popular style, and the application of your own faculties, you may become acquainted with the laws, creatures, and forms of the material universe—supply your educational deficiency, and acquire the power of levying from everything in nature a store of happiness.
The reasoning faculties methodise the materials of thought and investigate truth according to certain definite principles. With a penetrating and comprehensive glance they examine all the processes of thought, and not merely seek knowledge, but endeavour to discover its sources. They are less likely to manifest themselves than the other intellectual groups; but in well regulated minds they hold all the other faculties in subjection, and harmonise and regulate their operations. No part of your nature is more susceptible of cultivation than this; and it ought to be cultured most assiduously, for it lies at the basis of all practical application of knowledge and experience. How can these crowning powers be developed? By inductive and deductive reasoning. Analyse, compare, draw conclusions, and search for causes. Weigh well the validity of your arguments, or, it may be, the accuracy of your processes of investigation. Never contend for opinions which you do not believe; false reasoning distorts and warps the soul, and confounds the distinction between right and wrong. Remember that you are as responsible for your opinions and judgments as for your actions and conduct.
“Majestic Truth; and where Truth deigns to come,
Her sister Liberty will not be far.”
From what has been advanced, it will be seen that in our view intellectual education does not consist in the amount of knowledge acquired, but in the due exercise of all the faculties. Education is an art; the art, namely, of qualifying human beings for the functions for which they are destined. Now, in order to the perfection of an art, it must be founded on a corresponding science. But so far is such a science from being yet constructed, that the necessity for it has only been recently pointed out. Notwithstanding the lack of scientific foundation, the practical art has lately undergone great improvement in almost all its details. The method of nature is the archetype of all methods; and had educators followed her teachings, we should never have heard of the once universal practice of learning by rote, nor of the forcing system now happily falling daily into more discredit, nor of the old system of rule teaching, instead of teaching by principles; that is, the leaving of generalisations until there are particulars to base them on. As regards formal intellectual development, you labour under disadvantages, but need not despair. If the proudest princess may not become a scholar in an English, Scotch, or Irish university on the same conditions as the other students, the humblest domestic servant may matriculate in the university of nature, and enter upon studies more exalted and varied than can be pursued anywhere else. Ladies’ medical colleges are springing up, by means of which you may enter upon a lucrative occupation, most womanly in its character, and unrivaled in scope, variety, or usefulness by any other female employment. Mechanics’ institutes and lyceums have their female classes, where you may get valuable instruction, have access to books of every description, and thus at pleasure hold intercourse with the best and wisest of your species; hear all the wit, and serve yourselves heir to all the wisdom, which has entertained or enriched successive generations. By-and-by we hope to see working women’s colleges established in all our great cities and manufacturing centres, where special education shall be given about all that a maiden ought to learn, a wife to know, and a mother to practise. National organisations for being taught, examined, and diplomatized are not absolutely necessary. Many great minds have been educated without them. The essential elements of mental development are within your reach. You want no more than the will. Resolve therefore to make yourselves equal to the important duties you are called upon to fulfil.
MORAL DISCIPLINE.
Britain has been called the “paradise of women.” As regards moral position, this is certainly true. Mighty is your power in this respect. A virtuous woman in the seclusion of her home, breathing the sweet influences of virtue into the hearts and lives of her beloved ones, is an evangel of goodness to the world. The instinctive and disinterested love of a mother consecrates every lesson which she may give to her children. “There is a love of offspring,” says the eloquent author of the “Natural History of Enthusiasm,” “that knows no restrictive reasons, that extends to any length of personal suffering or toil; a feeling of absolute self-renunciation, whenever the interests of children involve a compromise of the comfort or tastes of the parent. There is a love of children, in which self-love is drowned; a love which, when combined with intelligence and firmness, sees through and casts aside every pretext of personal gratification, and which steadily pursues the highest and most remote welfare of its object, with the determination at once of an animal instinct and of a well considered rational purpose. There is a species of love not liable to be worn by time, or slackened, as from year to year children become less and less dependent upon parental care; it is a feeling which possesses the energy of the most vehement passions, along with the calmness and appliancy of the gentlest affections; a feeling purged, as completely as any human sentiment can be, of the grossness of earth; and which seems to have been conferred upon human nature as a sample of emotions proper to a higher sphere.” Mothers have no business with children until they are prepared to train them up in the way they should go. If you would discharge this high function, you must discipline all the moral faculties. Your opportunities are eminently favourable.
The moral powers of your nature are divided by Dr. Reid and Mr. Stewart into appetites, desires, affections, self-love, and the moral faculty. They call those feelings which take their rise from the body, and which operate periodically, appetite. By desires, they mean those feelings which do not take their rise from the body, and which do not operate periodically. Under the title of affections, they comprehend all those active principles whose direct and ultimate object is the communication of joy or pain to your fellow creatures. According to them, self-love is an instinctive principle in the human mind, which impels you to preserve your life and promote your happiness. The moral faculty they define to be an original principle of your nature, whereby you distinguish between right and wrong. To treat this subject adequately, or to give all the rules and maxims by which your active and moral powers may be stimulated and regulated, would belong to a treatise on ethics. Your moral nature may be classed under two great principles, the self-seeking, and the disinterested; and the most important part of moral discipline is to depress the former, and exalt the latter.
The control of the selfish feelings is essential to moral growth. To live to gratify the flesh, or to become rich, or to be distinguished in places of fashion and amusement, is to be less than women. Destitute of the high power of which we are speaking—if no predominant passion has yet gained the ascendancy—you will yield to the pressure of the multitude, and be fashioned by your companions. But if the passions be strong, by-and-by you will become the slaves of vice. The noblest endowments will not save from such a catastrophe; indeed, the danger of being seduced is greatest to minds of high sensibility. We could name not a few, of the largest sympathies, the noblest sentiments, the most splendid genius, who have been degraded and destroyed, because they failed in the maintenance of self-control.
“Reader, attend: whether thy soul
Soars fancy’s flight beyond the pole,
Or darkling grubs this earthly hole
In low pursuit;
Know, prudent, cautious self-control
Is wisdom’s root.”
To be able, amidst the multiplied vexations of life, to exercise comprehensive and sustained self-control, is worth more than the proudest victory ever achieved in the field, and it is a battle you may win.
The great idea of duty, which springs up within you in opposition to interest, must be cultivated above all others, for on it all others depend. Conscience has a regulative power over all the faculties of your nature.
“Its slightest touches, instant pause,
Debar all side pretences,
And resolutely keep its laws,
Uncaring consequences.”
The universality of a moral sense has been questioned by many; yet the idea of duty is felt by all. When enlightened as well as sincere, and carried out to its legitimate extent, it exalts and dignifies human nature. This may be called the great conservative law of creation. It is the reflection of this principle in the material world that we see binding the spheres to their central sun, and preventing them dashing from their orbits in wild and disastrous confusion. The sense of moral accountableness alone has power to conquer the “lusts of the flesh and the lusts of the mind,” and hold them in subjection. The poet of our age has apostrophized duty in words which you should make your own.
“To humble function’s awful power
I call thee. I myself commend
Unto thy guidance from this hour;
Oh, let my weakness have an end.
Give unto me, made lowly, wise,
The spirit of self-sacrifice;
The confidence of reason give,
And in the light of Truth, thy bondslave let me live.”
You are happy or miserable, you are honoured or degraded, just as you neglect or observe this primal duty. Armed with a sense of duty, you are proof against all representations of danger. In confirmation of this, we can adduce a cloud of witnesses, an host of martyrs, multitudes of all nations and ages, and conditions and sexes, for whom the flames of the tormentor were kindled in vain; against whom the sword of persecution was drawn to no purpose; and who held fast their integrity, though they knew death to be the consequence. Those who are nerved with a sense of duty cannot be worsted. They fall back upon the strength of the Eternal, and set all the powers of evil at defiance.
We are not unmindful of the difficulty of cultivating in due proportion the qualities we have now described. Only a very few of our race have possessed, in an eminent degree, strong passions and strong command over them, a conscience quick in its discernment, and a will unswerving in its purpose. But while we recognise this, we contend that moral discipline is something possible. It has foundations in your nature. Its elements and means are simple and common. Every condition of life furnishes aids to it. Storms, disasters, hostilities, and sufferings are designed to school selfish feeling and promote generous satisfaction. Goodness is not worth much unless tried in these fires. Home is indeed the great sphere for preparing the young to act and to endure. “What would my mother say?” is the first whisper of conscience in the breast of the simple child; and, “What would my mother think?” its last note as it expires under a course of debauchery and sin. Nevertheless, it is equally certain that the best training will not make you women apart from your own efforts. On the other hand, however bad your early training may have been, with a resolute will, a brave heart, and Divine help, you may conquer your early habits, and stand forth moral heroines. Human nature grows in every direction in which it is trained, and accommodates itself to every circumstance placed in its way; therefore, you may take all the flowers that grow in the moral garden and hang them round your neck for a garland. Dr. Chalmers well says: “In moral education, every new achievement of principle smooths the way to future achievements of the same kind; and the precious fruit or purchase of each moral virtue is to set us on higher and firmer vantage-ground, for the conquests of principle in all time coming.”
SPIRITUAL CULTURE.
Atheism is the most unnatural thing in the universe. The creed inscribed on its black flag is absolutely dreadful. It proclaims, in characters visible to every eye, that there is no God, no resurrection, no future state, no accountability, no virtue, no vice, no heaven, no hell, and that death is an eternal sleep. But atheism only proclaims human weakness; it does not disprove God’s existence. There is something in your very nature which leads to the recognition and worship of a superior Being. The evidence of this propension is as extensive as the race, and as prolonged as the history of humanity. The religious rites and idolatries to be found in each of the four quarters of the globe, and the piercing cry which has resounded in every age, “Where is our Father? We have neither heard His voice, nor seen His shape. Oh that we knew where we might find Him, that we might come even to His seat!” are the proofs of this capacity for worship. In every human breast there springs up spontaneously a principle which seeks for the infinite, uncreated cause; which cannot rest till it ascend to the eternal, all-comprehending Mind. Nothing but the contemplation and enjoyment of Deity can satisfy the souls that He has formed for Himself. Until that is obtained, the usual want in humanity never can be filled.
Christianity is the great necessity and the only sufficiency of your nature. It stirs up the lowest depths of your spiritual being, that the soul, in all its completeness, may lay hold on God and be blessed. All infidel philosophy is wrecked here. It does not understand, and consequently cannot explain, your relations to the Invisible, and your capacities for a blessed immortality. It can mark the contrasts in your character, but is unable to reconcile them. The grave, although a shallow, is to it a soundless abyss. All is over and done with the being who is deposited there. Christianity alone elucidates the mystery of humanity. It utters certain sounds as to whence you came, what you are, and where you are going. The Scriptures teach that you derive a corrupt nature from your original progenitors, and this is a satisfactory solution of the aversions and propensions you display. A scheme is also propounded for the remission of human guilt, and the renovation of the human soul. The fact that one condition essential to spiritual culture is a supernatural condition, does not affect self-effort; for here, as everywhere in the whole economy of grace, it will be found that the reaping will be in proportion to the sowing. Let us now see the influence of true religion upon the spiritual powers of the soul.
The faculty of hope cannot stop at what exists in time, but must wander through eternity. Its due exercise redoubles all your pleasures, by enabling you to enjoy them twice,—in anticipation as well as fruition. In trouble, this principle is a sure support.
“Hope, like the glimmering taper’s light,
Adorns and cheers the way;
And still, as darker grows the night,
Emits a brighter ray.”
Hope protests against breaking down under discouragements. She inscribes her loveliest rainbows on your murkiest clouds. Christianity is adapted to this power. It unfolds an infinitely higher order of life—an eternity of happiness, the boundaries of which the largest hope mounted on her loftiest pinions cannot survey. The inhabitants of that heavenly world look back upon their trials as evils which exist only in recollection; and to heighten the transport, they will remember that God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.
“Oft the big, unbidden tear, stealing down the furrowed cheek,
Told in eloquence sincere, tales of woe they could not speak;
But those days of weeping o’er—past this scene of toil and pain,
They shall feel distress no more; never, never weep again.
’Mid the chorus of the skies, ’mid the angelic lyres above,—
Hark! their songs melodious rise, songs of praise to Jesus’ love!
Happy spirits! ye are fled where no grief can entrance find;
Lulled to rest the aching head, soothed the anguish of the mind.
All is tranquil and serene, calm and undisturbed repose;
There no cloud can intervene, there no angry tempest blows.
Every tear is wiped away, sighs no more shall heave the breast;
Night is lost in endless day, sorrow in eternal rest.”
Religion teaches you not to diminish hope by mourning the loss of dear children or Christian friends, but to cultivate it with the faith that they are now in heaven.
“O, think that while you’re weeping here,
The hand a golden harp is stringing;
And, with a voice serene and clear,
The ransomed soul, without a tear,
The Saviour’s praise is singing.
And think that all their pains are fled,
Their toils and sorrows closed for ever,
While He, whose blood for man was shed,
Has placed upon His servant’s head
A crown that fadeth never.”
Christian hope maketh not ashamed. The wonders of Providence and grace will yet be completed.
The faculty of faith summons to the steady and devout contemplation of spiritual truth. It believes in the superhuman, and rebukes those who pride themselves in accepting nothing till it is proved. Christianity is a universal spiritual religion, which encircles in its design the whole human family, and blesses by its influence all who receive it. Seeing then that faith is the great motive power of the whole plan, its culture becomes vitally important. Although not alone sufficient, in every instance, the ordinary means of grace are specially calculated to promote this end. When the great apostle has enumerated the achievements of a host of believing worthies, he adds, “looking unto Jesus, the author and finisher of our faith; who, for the joy that was set before Him, endured the cross, despising the shame, and is now set down at the right hand of God.” The character of Christ is the most wonderful that you can contemplate, as it combines the perfections of the Divine nature, displayed in their most commanding as well as their most lovely aspect, with all the sinless sensibility of humanity. But the whole discipline of life is needed for the growth of faith. Your labours, your trials of various kinds, your experiences, your successes and failures, your very errors, may, by the Divine blessing, He made instrumental to its increase. For the higher attainments of faith, trials are not only useful, but indispensable. The martyrs reached their great faith by great tribulation. Thus we see powerful reasons why all the people of God are more or less subjected to trials and hardships.
The faculty of veneration inspires devotion, and leads to the manifestation of a feeling of dependence. It centres upon the Supreme Being, and largely developed takes great delight in the exercises of religion, and never eats a morsel of bread, nor drinks of the cooling stream, without spontaneous thanksgiving. To culture this, is eminently to educate yourselves. The contemplation of the stupendous works of God promotes veneration. Well might the poet exclaim—
“An undevout astronomer is mad.”
Prayer is admirably calculated to produce fervency of spirit. Paul understood the philosophy of this subject when he said, “But we all, with open face, beholding as in a glass the glory of the Lord, are changed into the same image from glory to glory, even as by the Spirit of the Lord.” Hence the commandment that you should pray always. The influence of music upon this sentiment is well known.
“There is in souls a sympathy with sounds.”
In all the resources of thought, material cannot be found so subduing and overpowering as in the scenes of redemption. Veneration was large in Cowper, Charles Wesley, Watts, and Newton; and their hymns will fan devotion till the end of time.
Your opportunities of spiritual culture are abundant. None need be so diligent in business as to have no time for religion. The Sabbath guarantees a season for unmolested attention to the soul. Wealth cannot buy up its spiritual blessings, and poverty operates as no disqualification for its favours. It smiles as sweetly in the humble cottage as in the marble palace. On this day thousands of recognised ministers, and hundreds of thousands of Sabbath-school teachers, reason, plead, and expostulate with millions of their fellow-creatures, on the greatest of all themes. Over and above these, what earnest lessons are being instilled in the retirements of home! There is also another source of spiritual education, open nearly to all, namely, access to books whose aim is to teach the practical principles of religion. Then the Bible is within the reach of all. It is the text-book of the pulpit, the daily manual of the school, and the familiar companion of the family. Full of human sympathies, breathing unsullied purity, illustrating principles by examples, investing precepts in poetry, and commending itself not more to the learned than the unlearned, the Bible possesses every quality which can contribute to success as an instrument of spiritual culture.
EDUCATION COMPLETE.
Thus have we sketched, on a small scale, a complete scheme of education. How to live?—that is the question. How to use all your powers to the glory of God and the greatest advantage to yourselves and others—how to live completely? The intellectual part of your nature is superior to the physical; the moral higher than the intellectual; and the spiritual highest of all. Education complete is the full and harmonious cultivation of these four divisions. Not exhaustive development in any one, supremely important though it may be—not even an exclusive discipline of two, or even three of these divisions; but the culture of them all, and the training in due proportion of all their faculties. When these powers act simultaneously and harmoniously, no one unduly depressed, and no one improperly exalted, education has discharged its function, and a type of womanhood is realised which closely resembles your Creator’s ideal. Perfect culture is perfect character. What a glorious creature is such a woman! Her body is the temple of the Holy Ghost, and her mind is enriched with the fine gold and jewellery of knowledge. Not only friends but even foes are constrained to acknowledge that she is the “glory of man,” in every sense a “help corresponding with his dignity.” More glorious than anything in the material universe is she who earnestly cultivates all her powers and practically recognises all her relationships, who has come to a perfect woman, to the measure of the stature of the fulness of Christ. We admit that all are not created alike, but we know that it is impossible to set limits to the attainments of the smallest or the achievements of the weakest. For the sake of your country—for the sake of your race—for the sake of your children—we urge you to begin now to cultivate, in all their compass and variety, the attributes of true womanhood.
CHAPTER II.
Peculiarities of Female Character.
“The peculiar attributes of woman are softness, tenderness, love; in fact, she has more heart than man.”
Benjamin Parsons.
WOMAN IN RELATION TO MAN.
We have it upon the best authority, that woman was created “because it was not good for man to be alone,” and the maintenance of the sex, in at least equal numbers, is the emphatic proclamation of the same truth throughout all ages. In paradise man enjoyed the sunshine of God’s favour, earth presented nothing but pleasure, and heaven unfolded nothing but bliss. Celibacy was thus tried under the most favourable circumstances, and it failed. Multitudes seem to think that women are little more than a superior description of domestic animals; but in the state of primeval innocency, Adam lived on the fruits of paradise: Eve was not needed to cook his meals, and there was no wardrobe to be looked after. The laundress and the laundry were not then in use. A suitable companion was what man required, and woman was formed and constituted the meetest help for him. The service of the sexes is reciprocal, and when man isolates himself, he not only suffers an injury but inflicts a wrong. The Bible declares that a wife is the gift of God, and when a good woman, there is a double blessing in the nature of the relation. But if a bad woman, her position as a wife greatly augments her power for mischief. Woman and man, however, are not intended to be rivals or opponents of each other. Of design God made neither complete. There is a want in each, that the two might coalesce into one. Duality is necessary to completeness.
. . . . . “Each fulfils
Defect in each, and always thought in thought,
Purpose in purpose, will in will they grow,
The single pure and perfect animal;
The two-celled heart beating with one full stroke
Life.”
As we note the chief peculiarities of female character, it will be seen that woman fills up the vacuum in man, balances his defects, absorbs his cares, and increases his joys.
CORPOREAL ORGANIZATION.
We believe scientific inquirers are not quite unanimous, as to whether woman really is by nature physically inferior to man, and it must be admitted that among the aboriginal inhabitants of at least one-half of the globe, she is treated as if she were physically superior. In France, Belgium, and other continental countries, she may be seen carrying the heaviest loads, guiding the plough, and performing the severest labours. Trained to gymnastic feats, she performs them with quite as much ease and intrepidity as man, while her power of enduring pain and fatigue, when fairly called into operation, is proverbial. Nerve and muscle depend chiefly upon exercise, hence women who engage in hard manual labour surpass in bodily vigour multitudes of recluse and retired scholars of the other sex.
The extraordinary career of a female sailor recently went the round of the newspapers: in consequence of information supplied by Captain Lane, of the Expedient, then lying in the Victoria Dock, Hartlepool, regarding a young woman, Charlotte Petrie, who shipped with him as an ordinary seaman, under the name of William Bruce, and whose sex was not discovered until she arrived at Palermo. The girl had been employed as a labourer at the works for about ten months, and though working alongside of about one hundred and fifty men, she was never suspected to be a woman until one of her fellow-workmen read to her the account of her adventures in the Express, which she admitted to be substantially correct, and that she was Charlotte Petrie. This account was read to her on Saturday, and on Monday morning she disappeared, and has not since been heard of. During the period in which she was employed at the lead works, she resided in Newcastle, and left every morning by the five o’clock boat in time to commence work with the other men. She was generally dressed in loose sailor’s clothes, was known to be an industrious and hard working man, and was generally liked in the works. She mingled freely in a social way with the other labourers in the factory, and was never, in fact, supposed to be a female. While in Newcastle, she was taken ill, and was attended, we understand, by one of our eminent medical men, who also failed to discover that ‘William’s’ Christian name was ‘Charlotte.’ On one occasion, this extraordinary girl was the ‘spokesman’ in an appeal for an increase of wages at the lead factory, in which she was to some extent successful. Her remarkable history has caused considerable excitement at St. Anthony’s, and many of the workmen regret the discovery, as, they say, she was such a pleasant fellow to work with, and it has even been mooted among them to get up a presentation in her behalf. Charlotte Petrie, still in male habiliments, was last seen on board one of the river steamers, and it is supposed she was on her way to Shields, in order to again proceed to sea as a sailor.
But although modes of life, if alike in the sexes, might produce a closer resemblance; taking them generally, the difference between their physical organizations is both palpable and significant. Woman’s stature is inferior, her touch is softer, her tread is lighter, her form is more symmetrical, and her embrace is more affectionate. Thus nature herself has interdicted identification of character and condition. In the language of Scripture, woman is “the weaker vessel,” and her feebler frame and more delicate constitution indicate plainly that she should be regarded with special kindness and attention, and not exposed to the rough and stormy scenes of life.
PATIENT ENDURANCE.
There is reason to think that woman owes this valuable quality to the fact of her being “the weaker vessel,” and thus her physical inferiority instead of being an hindrance becomes a help. Not having bodily vigour equal to the other sex, and placed in circumstances which would make masculine daring unseemly, she cultivates the power of patient endurance. The history of woman in almost every land and age illustrates this fact. When man fails in an enterprise, he too often gives up all for lost, or perhaps lays violent hands upon himself; but woman endures her lot with commendable patience, and
“Calmly waits her summons,
Nor dares to stir till heaven shall give permission.”
She believes the eloquent sentences of Bishop Horne: “Patience is the guardian of faith, the preserver of peace, the cherisher of love, the teacher of humility. Patience governs the flesh, strengthens the spirit, sweetens the temper, stifles anger, extinguishes envy, subdues pride; she bridles the tongue, refrains the hand, tramples upon temptations, endures persecutions, consummates martyrdom. Patience produces unity in the Church, loyalty in the state, harmony in families and societies; she comforts the poor and moderates the rich; she makes us humble in prosperity, cheerful in adversity, unmoved by calamity and reproach; she teaches to forgive those who have injured us, and to be the first in asking forgiveness of those whom we have injured; she delights the faithful, and invites the unbelieving; she adorns the woman, and improves the man; is loved in a child, praised in a young man, and admired in an old man; she is beautiful in either sex and every age.”
The following lines from the pen of the Hon. Mrs. Norton are not more beautiful than just.
“Warriors and statesmen have their meed of praise,
And what they do or suffer men record!
But the long sacrifice of woman’s days
Passes without a thought—without a word;
And many a holy struggle for the sake
Of duties sternly, faithfully fulfilled—
For which the anxious mind must watch and wake,
And the strong feelings of the heart be stilled—
Goes by unheeded as the summer’s wind,
And leaves no memory and no trace behind!
Yet it may be, more lofty courage swells
In one meek heart which braves an adverse fate,
Than his, whose ardent soul indignant swells,
Warmed by the fight, or cheered through high debate!
The soldier dies surrounded; could he live
Alone to suffer, and alone to strive?
“Answer, ye graves, whose suicidal gloom
Shows deeper horror than a common tomb!
Who sleep within? the men who would evade
An unseen lot of which they felt afraid,—
Embarrassment of means which worked annoy—
A past remorse—a future blank of joy—
The sinful rashness of a blind despair—
These were the strokes which sent your victims there.
“In many a village churchyard’s simple grave,
Where all unmarked the cypress branches wave;
In many a vault where death could only claim
The brief inscription of a woman’s name;
Of different ranks and different degrees,
From daily labour to a life of ease,
(From the rich wife who through the weary day
Wept in her jewels, grief’s unceasing prey,
To the poor soul who trudged o’er marsh and moor;
And with her baby begged from door to door,)
Lie hearts, which ere they found the least release
Had lost all memory of the blessing ‘peace;’
Hearts, whose long struggle through unpitied years
None saw but He who marks the mourner’s tears;
The obscurely noble! Who evaded not
The woe which He had willed should be their lot,
But nerved themselves to bear.”
Yes man is often conquered by his calamities, but woman conquers her trials and troubles. The former cannot bear a tithe of what the latter endures without manifesting a hundred times as much impatience. Woman suffers, and suffers well. There are more heroines than heroes in the world.
CAUTION.
Woman is more thoughtful and provident than man. She guards more carefully against catastrophes, and practices assiduously the motto, “Sure bind, sure find.” Animals which are very defenceless are endowed with the acutest senses, and some are said even to sleep with their eyes open; and if, as poets have sung, heaven intended that woman should be not only a “ministering,” but a guardian angel to man, then her timidity, by the watchfulness it induces, especially qualifies her for her post. This may account for that prophetic character which has been particularly attributed to females. Most of the heathen oracles employed priestesses rather than priests; and, as all error is the counterfeit of truth, even “old wives’ prognostications” are only an abuse and exaggeration of that foresight which the timidity and caution of woman prompt her to exercise.
Caution just means rational fear, and had some of the vaunted sons of valour exercised a little more prudence at the commencement of their speculations or enterprises, they would have had less cause for apprehension at the close. Solomon has said, “Blessed is the man that feareth always.” Strange as it may seem, this blessedness is in a remarkable degree the possession of woman, and hence her timidity produces fortitude. It is told of Coleridge, that he was accustomed on important emergencies, to consult a female friend, placing implicit confidence in her first instinctive suggestions. The most eminent men have found it great advantage to have advice from this quarter. How many a husband would have been saved from commercial ruin, if he had only sought or attended to the prudent advice of his wife. How many a son would have been saved from an early grave if he had listened to the warning of his mother. We shall furnish one example out of a million that might be given. “Mother,” said a young farmer who was a free liver, “I am going to be inoculated.” “Dick,” exclaimed his mother, emphatically, “if thou dost, thou wilt die.” Cautious ever are a mother’s counsels, but he disregarded them, and in a few days was in his grave.
SYMPATHY.
The term sympathy is one of very wide application. It comprehends the whole of the kindly relational feelings, and invests even inanimate nature with the attributes of life. Dr. Lieber, in his “Political Ethics,” defines it to be “a feeling for the pains and feelings of others, though unconnected with any interest of our own, and standing in no direct connection with us, even in the way of fear for our own future protection.” Sympathy is peculiarly expansive. It fixes upon the essentials of humanity, and disregards the accidents. Tenderness of affection is indeed a noble quality. There is much sound philosophy in the following lines:—
“How oft the sterner virtues show
Determined justice, truth severe,
Firmness and strength to strike the blow,
Courage to face the peril near,—
Yet wanting hearts that feel the glow
Of love, or for the rising tear
Responsive sympathy ere know,
Life’s light, without life’s warmth to cheer.”
Woman is constitutionally sympathetic. She delights, unbidden, to soothe the sorrows of the distressed. When that celebrated traveller, John Ledyard, approached the frontier of Poland, after his arbitrary detention in Russia, he exclaimed, “Thank heaven! petticoats appear, and the glimmering of other features.” Women are the sure harbingers of an alteration in manners. All succumb to their irresistible influence: the “divine ichor,” as Homer calls it, mounts the stolid brain, and intoxicates both rich and poor, philosopher and clown. Elsewhere he says, “I have observed among all nations, that the women ornament themselves more than the men; that wherever found, they are the same kind, civil, obliging, humane, tender beings; that they are ever inclined to be gay and cheerful, timorous and modest.” The adventurous traveller further remarks, “I never addressed myself in the language of decency and friendship to a woman, whether civilized or savage, without receiving a decent and friendly answer. With man, it has been often otherwise. In wandering over the barren plains of inhospitable Denmark, through honest Sweden, frozen Lapland, rude and churlish Finland, unprincipled Russia, and the wide-spread regions of the wandering Tartar, if hungry, dry, cold, wet, or sick, woman has ever been friendly to me, and uniformly so; and, to add to this virtue, so worthy of the appellation of benevolence, these actions have been performed in so free and kind a manner, that if I was dry, I drank the sweet draught, and if hungry ate the coarse morsel, with a double relish.”
Park, the African traveller, experienced much kindness from females in the wilds of that country, and is no less vehement in their praise. The men robbed him, and stripped him, and left him to die; but the women pitied the fatigued and hungry man, and sang, as they prepared his food, a touching extempore melody, of which the refrain was, “Pity the poor white man, no mother has he.” Yes, as the poet has well sung:
“Woman all exceeds
In ardent sanctitude, in pious deeds;
And chief in woman charities prevail,
That soothe when sorrows or disease assail;
As dropping balm medicinal instils
Health when we pine, her tears alleviate ills,
And the moist emblems of her pity flow,
As heaven relented with the watery bow.”
Deep in the sufferer’s nature springs the desire to feel woman’s hand binding his wound or wiping his brow, and to hear soft words dropping from a woman’s lips.
“Ask the poor pilgrim, on this convex cast,
His grizzled locks distorted in the blast;
Ask him what accents soothe, what hand bestows
The cordial beverage, raiment, and repose?
Oh! he will dart a spark of ardent flame,
And clasp his tremulous hands, and woman name.”
The most beautiful features in human nature, as well as the most heroic elements of character, are called up and brought into action by sympathy. The women, who, during the late war, smoothed the pillow of the sick soldier in the hospital, have as high a place to-day in the esteem and affection of the nation as the heroes who turned the tide of battle on the heights of Alma and amid the hills of Balaklava. In thoughtless flattery, woman is sometimes called an angel; but an angel, in sober truth, she is,—a messenger sent by God to assuage the sorrows of humanity. Through sympathy, she lives in high communion with the great workers and sufferers of the past, and imbibes the spirit which stimulated and sustained them.
“O woman! in our hours of ease,
Uncertain, coy, and hard to please,
And variable as the shade
By the light quivering aspen made;
When pain and anguish wring the brow,
A ministering angel thou!”
Daniel bestowed the highest encomiums on the affection of Jonathan, when he exclaimed—
“I am distressed for thee, my brother Jonathan!
Very pleasant hast thou been unto me:
Thy love to me was wonderful,—
Passing the love of women!”
We could fill a book with facts illustrative of the sincere and strong affection of sisters, aunts, and grandmothers. But perhaps widows afford the most affecting examples of the constancy of woman’s love.
“The new-made widow, too, I’ve sometimes spied;
Sad sight! slow moving o’er the prostrate dead;
Listless she crawls along in doleful black,
While bursts of sorrow burst from either eye,
Fast falling down her now untasted cheek.
Prone on the lonely grave of the dear man
She drops, whilst busy meddling memory,
In barbarous succession, musters up
The past endearments of her softer hours,
Tenacious of its theme. Still, still she thinks
She sees him, and, indulging the fond thought,
Clings yet more closely to the senseless turf,
Nor heeds the passenger who looks that way.”
LOVE OF APPROBATION.
Woman intensely desires admiration, praise, and fame. This quality is an excellent guard upon morals as well as manners. The loss of character, to those largely endowed with it, is worse than death. “It gives,” says Mr. Combe, “the desire to be agreeable to others; it is the drill-serjeant of society, and admonishes us when we deviate too widely from the line of march of our fellows; it induces as to suppress numberless little manifestations of selfishness, and to restrain many peculiarities of temper and disposition, from the dread of incurring disapprobation by giving offence; it is the butt upon which wit strikes, when, by means of ridicule, it drives us from our follies.” A faculty thus beneficial ought to be carefully cultivated. By all means indulge in a generous emulation to excel. Say nothing and do nothing disgraceful. Assume those pleasant modes of action and expression which are calculated to elicit encomiums. Mind appearances in those little matters which win a good name. No sensible man likes to see a slattern; nor admires a wife or sister who appears before him neat and clean, but dressed after the fashion of a charwoman. The Creator has seen fit to give you a fair form, and it is ungrateful to His beneficence not to robe that form in suitable apparel. At the same time, it is well to remember that the epicureanism of the toilet and the patient study of costumial display, are neither female duties, nor primary requisites for a finished woman.
How supremely ridiculous many women are rendered by the excess and perversion of approbativeness. Not long ago young ladies, and some rather old dowagers too, wore little hats with round crowns, and beautiful lace fringe, edged with bugles and fancy bead-work, hanging like a flounce round their eyes. The gauzy medium mightily improved the looks of a certain class; but the beauties soon discovered the disadvantage under which they laboured, and immediately betook themselves to broad brims. As regards bonnets, once they were so large that it was difficult to find the head; then the difficulty was, not to find the head but the thing that was said to cover it. We wish our sisters would always emulate their gracious sovereign, who “wears her bonnet on her head, and pays her bills quarterly.” Mantles seem to us both comfortable and becoming, and we may add economical.
Few faculties require right direction more than this. What multitudes of fathers and husbands have been ruined by daughters and wives whose whole souls were bent on making a sensation. No wonder the gentlemen do not propose. The rich silks of the day cannot be had for a wife and daughters, with the prodigious trimmings that are equally indispensable, under a sum that would maintain a country clergyman or half-pay officer and his family. The paraphernalia of ribbons, laces, fringes, and flowers, is more expensive than the entire gown of ten years ago. The Hon. and Rev. S. G. Osborne, in the Times of Friday, July 23, 1858, says that, as a rule, “the acreage of dress and its value is in monstrous proportion to the persons and purses of the wearers.” As an illustration, we append a selection of items from a Regent Street milliner’s bill for £2,754 0s. 6d., which was proved in the London Bankruptcy Court, in September, 1857. “Bonnet, £12 12s.; sprigged muslin slip, £11 11s.; six embroidered collars, £15 15s.; pocket-handkerchief, £4 4s.; another, £5 5s.; moire antique dress, £10 10s.; ditto, £11 11s.; ditto, £12 12s.; ditto, £13 13s.; ditto, £18 18s.; ditto, £19 19s.; brown muslin dress, £17 17s.; court dress, £51 5s.; ditto, £55 10s.; parasol, £10 10s.; ditto, £18 18s.; point lace cap and pearls, £11 11s.; pair of lappets, £8 8s.; ten buttons, £5; dressing four dolls, £12 12s...!!” Such bills are sufficient to empty the purse of Fortunatus, and ruin Crœsus himself.
“We sacrifice to dress, till household joy
And comforts cease. Dress drains our cellar dry,
And keeps our larder lean; puts out our fires,
And introduces hunger, frost, and woe,
Where peace and hospitality might reign.”
So wrote Cowper. Are his lines less appropriate in our day?
Wherefore should there be so glaring a difference between the sexes in this matter? Why should men think of nothing beyond mere cleanliness, as regards dress, and women make it a never ending study? Men strutting along the promenade, dressed off in the height of fashion, and engrossed with the elegance of their tout ensemble, are scorned as fools and fops. But women decorated with gold lace, jewels, diamonds, magenta and solferino ribbons, may be seen floating along the pavement, the admired of all observers. If it be unworthy of a man to be so impressed with mere outside attire, it is proportionately so of a woman. Dames who sail along the street in silk and purple which is not their own, have no right in any respect to the honour which belongs to women who work with their hands and pay their own way. We plead for no monotonous uniformity, but warn you of the fact, that love of dress has often proved a snare both to young men and young women; and that to the latter it has frequently been among the first steps that led to their ruin. The love of praise was planted in your nature, not that you might be the slave of vanity, affectation, and ceremoniousness; but that you might seek after goodness, shed new light upon the world, and point the way to a Divine life. Seek therefore to deserve the approbation of the wise and good, rather than to gain general approbation. Seek to possess the approbation of your own conscience; to commend yourselves to God; to receive at last the plaudits of your Saviour and Judge.
TENACITY OF PURPOSE.
How seldom does a woman give up an object which she has resolved to attain, and how rarely does she fail in obtaining her end. Obstacles which would completely overwhelm the other sex, only quicken her zeal and double her diligence. The inexorable determination of Lady Macbeth absolutely makes us shrink with a terror in which interest and admiration are strangely blended.
“I have given suck, and know
How tender ’tis to love the babe that milks me:
I would, while it were smiling in my face,
Have plucked my nipple from his boneless gums,
And dashed the brains out, had I so sworn, as you
Have done to this.”
If it be objected that Lady Macbeth is only a fiction—the sternly magnificent creation of the poet; we reply, that in the whole compass of Shakespeare’s works, there is not one character untrue to nature. True it is, no women in these civilized times murder sleeping kings: but are there, therefore, no Lady Macbeths in the world? No women who mock at air-drawn daggers; in sarcastic mood let fall the word coward; and disdain the visionary terrors that haunt their vacillating husbands? There are, and many of them too—unlike Lady Macbeth—full of virtue and integrity.
“How many a noble enterprise,” to quote from Parson’s “Mental and Moral Dignity of Woman,” “would have been abandoned but for the firmness of woman! How often the faint-hearted have been inspirited, and the coward goaded to valour by the voice of woman. Indeed, it is a query whether fortitude would not long ere this have been exiled from our world but for the fostering care and influence of females. Often the martyr for liberty or religion would have failed and given way, had not the voice of a wife or mother interposed, and rekindled his dying ardour.” The most valuable of all possessions—either for man or woman—is a strenuous and steady mind, a self-deciding spirit, prepared to act, to suffer, or to die, as occasion requires. A great deal of talent is lost every day for want of a little courage. The fact is, to do anything in the world worth doing, you must not stand back shivering and thinking of the cold and danger, but jump in and scramble through as well as you can. History records not a few heroines who suffered not the commotions of the world, nor even the changes of nature, to shake or disturb the more steadfast purpose of their souls. In all kinds of serene peril and quiet horror, woman seem to have infinitely more philosophical endurance than man.
On the 6th September, 1838, the Forfarshire steamer was wrecked on the Farne islands. Up to that time Grace Darling had never accompanied her father on any of his humane enterprises. She knew how to handle an oar, and that was all. But when she saw the mariners holding on by the frail planks, which every billow threatened to scatter; she uttered a cry of thrilling horror, which was echoed by her father and mother. It seemed as if their lives were in her hand, and so eloquently, wildly, and desperately did she urge her request, that her father aided by her mother launched the boat. Despite menacing and potent waves, the father and the daughter neared the object of their hopes. The nine survivors were placed in the boat, and conveyed to the Longstone lighthouse, where the kind hands and warm heart of Mrs. Darling changed their sad condition into one of comfort and joy. The whole country, and indeed all Europe, rang with the brave deed Grace had done. How applicable to such a noble girl are the lines of Cowper:—
“She holds no parley with unmanly fears:
Where duty bids, she confidently steers;
Faces a thousand dangers at its call,
And trusting in her God, surmounts them all.”
In the path of probity and fidelity many a noble struggle has been maintained by woman. Plied by bribes and fair promises to depart from rectitude, she has boldly shaken off the tempter, risen superior to the trial, and nobly conquered. Helen Walker, the Jeanie Deans, of Sir Walter Scott, refusing the slightest departure from veracity, even to save the life of her sister; nevertheless showed her fortitude in rescuing her from the severity of the law, at the expense of personal exertions, which the time rendered as difficult as the motive was laudable. Isabel was accused of the murder of her own child! Poor Helen was called as the principal witness. The counsel for the prisoner gave her to understand that one means existed by which the unhappy girl might escape. “If,” said he, “you can declare that Isabel made the slightest preparation for her expected babe, or that she informed you by the merest chance word of the circumstances in which she was placed, such a statement will save your sister’s life!” “I cannot,” she replied; “not even to save her, will I swear a falsehood; whatever may be the consequence, I must give my oath according to my conscience.” In vain Isabel tried to shake her resolution. Though sorely moved, Helen remained inflexible. Isabel was found guilty, and condemned to die. Without a moment’s hesitation, Helen drew up a petition, setting forth the harrowing circumstances of the case; and finding that six weeks must elapse before the sentence could be carried into effect, she left Dumfries that same night. Barefooted she commenced her journey, and reached London in the shortest possible time. Without introduction or recommendation of any kind, she went at once to the house of her countryman the Duke of Argyle, and managed to obtain an interview with him. She entered wrapped in her Scotch plaid, and the statement of her sister’s unhappy case in her hand. If she had lost heart at this critical moment, and abandoned her purpose, Isabel’s life would have been forfeited. But the heroic girl advanced her simple arguments with such convincing energy and bold determination, that the noble lord embraced her cause with all the warmth of a generous nature. His representations were favourably received, the pardon was consigned to her care, and Helen returned to Dumfries, still on foot, in time to save her sister’s life. There are on record innumerable instances of tenacity of purpose displayed by females, but rendered so revolting by the details of unparalleled cruelty and superstition which accompanied them, that they are passed over here. It is consolation to know that, for those heroic women who remained “faithful unto death” is reserved the “crown of life,” as an imperishable and eternal portion.
MODESTY.
What Pope said or sung was, we believe, a libel on the sex:
“Most women have no character at all.”
At all events, we have never found it applicable to those whom we have had the honour of becoming acquainted with. Nevertheless, for the last hundred years our literature has been constantly hurling anathemas at the instability of female virtue; until even the ladies themselves have been forced into the belief of it. “Frailty, thy name is woman,” is a sentiment in the mouth of every dissipated coxcomb. Yet despite the prevalent idea that the most virtuous woman may easily be made to fall, we venture to affirm that unchaste thoughts and everything which tends, even remotely, to impurity, is far less common among women than men. We know something about the disgusting details whereby the amount of our most dreadful moral scourge may be estimated; and it only confirms us in our opinion that woman is more sinned against than sinning. Given one hundred young men, and ten hundred maidens, of the same age and station; out of the former, at least fifty will run a course of sinful pleasure for a period; while out of the latter, not more than six; after many conflicts, prayers, and convulsive sobbings, to which the others were strangers, will fall under the power of temptation. On which side then lies the frailty? According to what is reckoned a moderate computation, for one abandoned woman there are one hundred licentious men, therefore there are more “frail” men than women, and consequently the proverb should be, “Frailty, thy name is man!” Nor is this all. It would seem that what is wrong in woman is not wrong in man. While the slightest laxity of conduct irrevocably injures the fame and worldly prospects of the former, the latter may lead a loose life with impunity. Society thinks that a young man will be all the better for “sowing his wild oats;” but unless his sister be as pure as Diana, society will cast her off and leave her to drink the dregs of her damning course. Modesty is the sweetest charm of woman, and the richest gem of her honour.
DISCERNMENT OF CHARACTER.
Inherent character gushes out through every organ of the body and every avenue of the soul. Broad-built people love ease, are rather dull, and take good care of number one. In the nature of things, length of form facilitates action. Such are always in motion, speak too fast to be emphatic, and have no lazy bones in their body. Excitability is indicated by sharpness. From time immemorial a sharp nose has been considered a sign of a scolding disposition; but it is equally so of intensity in the other feelings. In accordance with the general law that shape and character correspond, well-proportioned persons have not only harmony of features but well-balanced minds. Whereas those, some of whose features stand right out and others fall in, have ill-balanced characters as well as an uneven appearance. Walking, laughing, the mode of shaking hands, and the intonations of the voice, are all expressive of human peculiarities. In short, Nature compels all her productions to manifest character as diversified as correct.
The art of judging of character from the external appearance, especially from the countenance, is founded upon the belief, which has long and generally prevailed, that there is an intimate connection between the features and expression of the face and the qualities and habits of the mind. All are conscious of drawing conclusions in this way with more or less confidence, and of acting upon them in the affairs of life to a certain extent. But women are generally allowed to excel in quick insight into character—to perceive motives at a glance—to be natural physiognomists: some of the greatest philosophers that ever lived, have been prepared to trust their first impressions. We find this rare and valuable sense—this short-hand reasoning—exemplified in the conversations and writings of ladies, producing, even in the absence of original genius or of profound penetration, a sense of perfect security, as we follow their gentle guidance. Indeed, they seem to read the characters of all they meet, and especially of the opposite sex, intuitively, and their verdict may be considered oracular and without appeal.
“Ye’ll no mind me, sir,” said Mrs. Macgregor to Mr. Godwin the lawyer, in that touching story, “The Little Rift,” which appeared in Good Words, for 1860, “but I mind ye weel, tho’ lang it is syne ye made my bit will, and there’s mony a line on your face the day that wasna’ there then. But oh, sir! there’s the same kindly glint o’ the e’e still, and I never was mista’en in my reading o’ ony man’s face yet; I hae just an awfu’ insight. It was given me to see fra the very first, that the major was a dour man, dour! dour!”
That Nature has instituted a science of physiognomy seems to us to be proclaimed by the very instincts, not only of humanity, but of the lower animals themselves. Yet the attempt to raise the art of reading the countenance to the dignity of a practical science, although, often made, has never yet been very successful. Della Porta, a Neapolitan, instituted comparisons between the physiognomies of human beings and of species of animals noted for the possession of peculiar qualities. This was afterwards carried further by Tischbein. Physiognomy was also eagerly prosecuted by Thomas Campanella; and when his labours were nearly forgotten, attention was again strongly directed to it by the writings of Lavater. But although most other sciences are insignificant compared with this, the majority of men can hardly be said to know the alphabet of human nature. Woman in her perceptions of grace, propriety, ridicule—her power of detecting artifice, hypocrisy, and affection—is, beyond all doubt, his superior. It is wonderful how often, in nicely balanced cases, when we appeal to the judgment of a woman, how instantly she decides the question for us, and how generally she is right.
PIETY.
There is a passage in the book Ecclesiastes, which that contemptible class of men—the satirists of the female sex—have delighted to quote and misapply. “One man among a thousand have I found, but a woman amongst all these have I not found.” Solomon did not mean that there were fewer good women than good men in the world. This reference was to the members of that royal household; and judging from that class of women with whom unhappily he associated, we do not wonder at the experience he left on record. The wisest of men did not mean, as a satirist, to libel one half of the human race, but as a penitent to admonish others against the snares into which he had fallen. It cannot be doubted that there are far more pious women in every quarter of the globe than pious men.
The benign and benevolent religion of Jesus, independent of its spiritual attractions, met perhaps with a kindlier welcome from woman, on account of her constitutional sympathies, which are more in harmony with its messages of mercy and its designs of love than those of man. It came to purify the springs of domestic life,—and for such work woman was always ready; to wrap the bandage round the broken heart,—and for that kind office woman was always prepared; to heal the sick,—and woman was ministering at their couches; to throw open the gates of immortality to the dying,—and woman was tending their pillows. “I have ofttimes noted,” says Luther, “when women receive the doctrine of the gospel, they are far more fervent in faith, they hold to it more stiff and fast than men do; as we see in the loving Magdalene, who was more hearty and bold than Peter.” The eminent Dr. Doddridge, was of opinion that in the sight of God they constituted decidedly the better half of the human race. The celebrated President Edwards considered the proportion within the limits of his observation as at least two to one. While Professor Dwight says, “women are naturally more religious than men.” On a retrospect of their ministry, we believe most divines will find that they have been doubly useful among the female sex, and have admitted twice as many of them as of their own sex into the fellowship of the Church. Not one female can be numbered amongst Christ’s enemies. Even Pilate’s wife advised her husband to refrain from taking any part in injuring “the just Person.” When tempted unsparingly to condemn woman because through her came ruin, let us remember that by her came also redemption.
Need we add that in numerous instances they have been eminently useful members of the Church. They were so in the apostolic age, and hence Paul makes honourable mention of the names of Phebe, Priscilla, and Mary, in his epistle to the Romans. Perhaps then, as now, many would have sneered at these women toiling on in works of usefulness; not a few, perhaps, misrepresented them, but Paul commended them. What a blessing was this! Better the sympathy of one noble soul, than the hosannas of thoughtless millions. It is clear from the New Testament, that in the Apostolic Church there was an order of women known as deaconesses, whose work was to minister to the necessities of the saints and to teach other women. We see no reason for the discontinuance of these officers. Those who think they are not needed now, see with very different eyes from us.
During the entire Christian era, the piety of woman has shone conspicuous. With equal truth and beauty the poet sang:—
“Peruse the sacred volume: Him who died,
Her kiss betrayed not, nor her tongue denied;
While e’en the apostles left Him to His doom,
She lingered round His cross, and watched His tomb.”
Piety is still woman’s brightest ornament and surest defence. It heightens all her other attractions, and it will remain when all others have faded. Even those who are indifferent and hostile to religion themselves commend it; all good men approve it; it attracts the favour of God Himself. It has opened the eyes of thousands to the higher walks of Christian life, and impelled tens of thousands to press for the mark. The annals of missionary enterprise already supply some of the loftiest instances of zeal and devotedness from among the female sex. To quote from Good Words, for 1860: “Wherever there has been any purity, any zeal, any activity, any prosperity in the Church of Christ, there woman’s presence and aid, as ‘a help meet for’ the other sex, while they have been bearing the heat and burden of the day, will be found no unimportant element. It is so at this day in an eminent degree. Nor do I at all doubt that in the Church’s further efforts to carry the gospel into all lands, and get for their Lord the sceptre of the world, the spirit and mind of our Galilean women will be more and more seen stamped upon Christian womanhood.” But as Keble sweetly sings, some of the most beautiful specimens of female Christianity will never be heard of till the resurrection morn.
“Unseen, unfelt, their earthly growth,
And, self-accused of sin and sloth,
They live and die; their names decay,
Their fragrance passes quite away;
Like violets in the freezing blast,
No vernal gleam around they cast:
But they shall flourish from the tomb,
The breath of God shall wake them into odorous bloom.”
CHAPTER III.
Domestic Women.
SECTION I.—SUSANNA WESLEY.
“She was an admirable woman, of highly improved mind, and of a strong and masculine understanding; an obedient wife; an exemplary mother; a fervent Christian.”
Robert Southey.
WOMAN’S SPHERE.
Home is woman’s most appropriate sphere, and it is there that her influence is most powerfully felt. Perhaps the three most beautiful, musical, and suggestive words in the English language are love, home, and mother; and in these three words is comprehended all the history of a perfect woman. It is woman indeed, that makes home, and upon her depends whether home shall be attractive or repulsive—happy or miserable. We cannot urge too strongly the formation of domestic habits. The lack of them is one of the greatest drawbacks in family life. Many young women are incompetent to fulfil rightly these claims, hence their homes become scenes of disorder, filth, and wretchedness, and their husbands are tempted to spend their evenings in the beer-house, the gin palace, or places of public amusement. Were your education different from what it is, we doubt not you would soon prove your fitness for many things from which you are at present debarred; but that would not alter the fact that your nature qualifies you specially for the performance of home duties. Nor is domestic work of small importance. The woman who shall try to do it rightly is attempting something far greater than those achievements which the trump of fame would blazon abroad. The training of young immortals for an everlasting destiny, is nobler employment than framing laws, painting cartoons, or writing poems. It is well only with the people in general, in proportion as household duty and religion are taught and practised. From that sacred place go forth the senator and the philosopher, the philanthropist and the missionary, to form the future nation. Home is the proper sphere of woman’s usefulness. There she may be a queen, and accomplish vastly more for the well-being of humanity than in the popular assembly. King Lemuel, in describing a virtuous woman, says, “She looketh well to the ways of her household, and eateth not the bread of idleness:” industry and economy go hand in hand.
BIOGRAPHY.
“How many children has Dr. Annesley?” said a friend to Thomas Manton, who had just dedicated one more to the Lord in the holy sacrament of baptism. “I believe it is two dozen, or a quarter of a hundred,” was the startling reply. Some of these withered like early spring flowers; others bloomed into youthful beauty; and a few developed into mature life. Susanna was the youngest. She was born in Spital Yard, near Bishopsgate Street, on the 20th January, 1669. Her father, at no small cost of feeling, and at a sacrifice of £700 a year, refused to declare his unfeigned assent to all that was contained in the Book of Common Prayer. His nonconformity caused him many outward troubles, but no inward uneasiness. He was a man of marked prominence, and a very prince in the tribe to which he belonged. But who was Susanna Annesley’s mother? The daughter of John White, the eminent lawyer and earnest Puritan, a member of the House of Commons in 1640. The following curious epitaph was written on his tombstone:—
“Here lies a John, a burning, shining light,
Whose name, life, actions, all alike were White.”
We should like to know something of the place and mode of her education. But whether she was sent to school or trained at home by tutors, an elder sister or her good mother, we know not. It has been said that she was well acquainted with the languages of ancient Greece and Rome. That we believe to be a mistake. But if she was not a classical scholar, she had a respectable knowledge of French; prosecuted as one of her chiefest studies, the noble literature and tongue of Britain; and wrote with marvellous neatness and grammatical accuracy. While careful to strengthen her mind by such abstruse studies as logic and metaphysics, she was not neglectful of accomplishments. Whether she could stir the depths of feeling by her skilful performances on the piano, we know not; but there is ample evidence that she was not destitute of the gift of song.
With Susanna Annesley, the dawn of grace was like the dawn of day. In after-years she wrote:—“I do not judge it necessary to know the precise time of our conversion.” The seed of truth took root imperceptibly, and ultimately brought forth fruit. As she advanced in years, she increased in spirituality. Hear her own words:—“I will tell you what rule I observed in the same case when I was young and too much addicted to childish diversions, which was this,—never to spend more time in any matter of mere recreation in one day, than I spend in private religious duties.” This one passage explains the secret of her noble life.
Good books she recognised among the mercies of her childhood. No doubt they related mainly to experimental and practical religion, and were written by such men as John Bunyan, Jeremy Taylor, and the early puritans. Socinianism was not uncommon in those times, and Susanna Annesley’s faith in the leading doctrines of the gospel was shaken. Happily, Samuel Wesley, most likely her affianced husband, was an adept in that controversy, and he came to her rescue. Her theological views became thoroughly established, and her writings contain admirable defences of the Holy Trinity, the Godhead and atonement of the Lord Jesus, and the Divine personality and work of the Eternal Spirit. Discussions on Church government ran high. Conformity and nonconformity were pitted against each other, and championed by the ablest of their sons. The din of controversy reached her father’s house, and she began to examine the question of State churches before she was thirteen. The result was, that she renounced her ecclesiastical creed, and attached herself to the communion of the established Church. Samuel Wesley’s attention was directed to that subject at the same time, and the change in their opinions seems to have been contemporaneous.
Behold her now, at the age of nineteen, “a zealous Church-woman, yet rich in the dowry of nonconforming virtues;” and over all, as her brightest adorning, the “beauty of holiness,” clothing her with salvation as with a garment.
“Not perfect, nay, but full of tender wants;
No angel, but a dearer being, all dipt
In angel instincts, breathing paradise.”
She was a maiden worthy of the most princely spirit that might woo her hand and win her heart; and such Providence had in store for her, in the noble-hearted and intelligent Samuel Wesley. Probably late in 1689, or early in 1690, accompanied by “the virgins, her companions,” she went forth out of Spital Yard, decked in bridal attire, and was united in holy matrimony to the Rev. Samuel Wesley, according to the rites and ceremonies of the Church of England.
Her husband was a curate, on only £30 a year. They “boarded” in London and the neighbourhood, “without going into debt.” In the course of a few months, Mr. Wesley received his first preferment in the Church. Upon £50 a year, and one child additional per annum, his thrifty wife managed to make the ends meet. After existing seven long years in the miserable rectory of South Ormsby, the rectorship of Epworth, valued at £200 per annum, was conferred upon the Rev. Samuel Wesley. The town is a place of deep interest to two religious denominations. There the founder of Methodism and the planter of its earliest offshoot were born, and in the old parish church they were both dedicated to God. One would almost imagine that devouring fire was the rector of Epworth’s adverse element. Scarcely had he and his noble wife taken possession of the new home, when a third of the building was burnt to the ground. Within twelve months after, the entire growth of flax, intended to satisfy hungry creditors, was consumed in the field; and in 1709 the rectory was utterly destroyed by fire. If the number and bitterness of a man’s foes be any gauge of his real influence, then the Rector of Epworth must have been the greatest power in the isle. The consequences of carrying out his sincere convictions regarding things secular and sacred were terrible. The conflagration, involving all but the temporal ruin of the Wesley family, was the work of some malicious person or persons unknown. Instead of appreciating his eminent abilities and scholarly attainments, his brutal parishioners insulted him in every possible way. His friends advised him to leave, but he resolutely disregarded their counsel. “I confess I am not of that mind,” he writes to the Archbishop of York, “because I may do some good there: and ’tis like a coward to desert my post because the enemy fire thick upon me.” Two of his most violent enemies were cut off in the midst of their sins, and in these events Mrs. Wesley saw the avenging hand of Him who hath said, “Touch not mine anointed, and do my prophets no harm.”
For nearly forty years the Rector of Epworth sowed with unfaltering hand, and saw no fruit. But ere he departed, the autumn came. He saw “the full corn in the ear,” and a few patches of the golden harvest ready for the reaper’s sickle. A new generation widely different from their fathers, had grown up around him, and in the midst of their tenderest sympathy he passed the quiet evening of life. Memorable sentences were ever and anon dropping from his ready pen, indicating that he was looking for the coming crisis. On the 25th of April, 1735, just as the golden beams of that day shot their last glances upon the old parsonage, so eventful in domestic vicissitudes, the sun of the rector completed its circuit, and sank behind the western hills of old age to shine in a brighter sky for evermore.
When all was over, Mrs. Wesley was less shocked than her children expected. “Now I am heard,” said she, calmly, “in his having so easy a death, and my being strengthened so to bear it.” She, nevertheless, felt deeply her lone and lorn situation. Epworth had been no paradise of unmixed delight to her. The serpent had often lurked among its flowers; poverty, like an armed man, had frequently stood at the gate, and sometimes crossed the threshold, and death had many a time entered the dwelling; but, as in widow’s weeds and sable dress, she left the dear old spot, never more to return,
“Some natural tears she dropped, but dried them soon.”
After spending some months with her daughter in the neighbouring town of Gainsborough, Mrs. Wesley went, in September, 1736, to reside with her eldest son, at Tiverton, where she remained until July, 1737. Thence she removed to Wootton, Wiltshire, where Mr. Hall, who had married her daughter Martha, was curate. In the course of a few months, Mr. and Mrs. Hall removed to Salisbury, and Mrs. Wesley accompanied them to that ancient cathedral city. In the spring of 1739, she returned to the place of her birth, and there spent the remainder of her days. Fifty years before, in the bloom of early womanhood, she had left the mighty metropolis, to share in the joys and sorrows of a minister’s wife. Then, her father, mother, sisters, and brothers were all alive; now, all were numbered with the dead. The mother of the Wesleys herself was waiting, as in the land of Beulah, for the call, “Come ye up hither.” Her closing hours afforded ample evidence of a triumphant death. On the 23rd July, 1742, the founder of Methodism wrote in his journal—“Her look was calm and serene, and her eyes fixed upward, while we commended her soul to God. From three to four, the silver cord was loosening, the wheel breaking at the cistern, and then, without any struggle or sigh or groan, the soul was set at liberty.” Her distinguished son and all her surviving daughters stood round the bed, and fulfilled her last request: “Children, as soon as I am released, sing a psalm of praise to God.” Some of those strains afterwards written by the dying widow’s minstrel son, would have been most appropriate.
In the presence of an almost innumerable company of people, John, with faltering voice, conducted her funeral ceremonies. As soon as the service was over, he stood up and preached a sermon over her open grave, selecting as his text Rev. xx. 11, 12. That sermon was never published. “But,” says the preacher, “it was one of the most solemn assemblies I ever saw, or expect to see on this side eternity.” “Forsaking nonconformity in early life,” says her biographer, “and maintaining for many years a devout and earnest discipleship in the Established Church, which, in theory she never renounces, in the two last years of her life she becomes a practical nonconformist, in attending the ministry and services of her sons in a separate and unconsecrated ‘conventicle.’ The two ends of her earthly life, separated by so wide an interval, in a certain sense embrace and kiss each other. Rocked in a nonconformist cradle, she now sleeps in a nonconformist grave.” There, in Bunhillfields burying-ground, near the dust of Bunyan, the immortal dreamer; of Watts, the poet of the sanctuary; De Foe, the champion of nonconformity; and of many of her father’s associates, her mortal remains await the “times of the restitution of all things.” A plain stone with a suitable inscription stands at the head of her grave.
A NOBLE WIFE.
A true wife, like the grace of God, is given, not bought. “Her price is far above rubies;” and, “the heart of her husband doth safely trust in her.” Such a wife was Mrs. Wesley. In early life she did not disdain to study the minute details of domestic economy, hence she took her proper place at once in the parsonage at Epworth—managed a large household on very inadequate means—while her love for her husband, and regard for the welfare of her children, constrained her to use wisely and well the income entrusted to her control. Her husband laid his purse in her lap, assured that the comfort and responsibility of his house and the interest of his property were in safe keeping. After the disastrous fire, in regard to everything save their eight children, Mr. and Mrs. Wesley were about as poor as Adam and Eve when they first set up housekeeping. Thirteen years after that sad event, a wealthy relative was “strangely scandalised at the poverty of the furniture, and much more so at the meanness of the children’s habit.” The rector’s incarceration for a paltry debt of less than £30, before his friends could come to his rescue, was the heaviest trial of the heroic Mrs. Wesley. What little jewellery she had, including her marriage ring, she sent for his relief; but God provided for him in another way. “Tell me, Mrs. Wesley,” said good Archbishop Sharp, “whether you ever really wanted bread.” “My lord,” replied the noble woman, “I will freely own to your Grace that, strictly speaking, I never did want bread. But then, I had so much care to get it before it was eat, and to pay for it after, as has often made it very unpleasant to me; and I think to have bread on such terms is the next degree of wretchedness to having none at all.” “You are certainly in the right,” replied his lordship, and made her a handsome present, which she had “reason to believe afforded him comfortable reflections before his exit.”
It is certain that the Wesley family lived a life of genteel starvation. The worldly circumstances of the clergy are better now. Curates have £100. South Ormsby is worth more than £250; and the rectorship of Epworth is now upwards of £900. But even in our days, the common tradesman exceeds many clergymen of the Church of England, and ministers of other Churches, in his command of real comfort and substantial independence. The former is respectable in moleskin, but the latter must have broad-cloth. This state of matters is intolerable, grossly unjust, and fearfully oppressive—a wrong done not to pastors only, but to society at large; whose interest suffers through theirs. England lodges in palaces and clothes her nobles, bishops, and merchants in purple; while she leaves many of the most pious and laborious ministers of Christ to be fed by the hand of charity, and clothed in the garments which respectability can no longer wear! What a reproach! When shall it be wiped away?
Between persons of so much decision and firmness as Mrs. Wesley and her husband, no doubt differences of opinion arose. But they were neither serious nor of long duration. The story about a protracted breach caused by the diversity of their sentiments concerning the revolution of 1688, if it have any foundation in fact, is grossly exaggerated in its details. Samuel Wesley and Susanna Annesley were drawn to each other by love and reverence; and if you want to see a marriage noble in every way, you must go to the rectory at Epworth where this couple lived. Their entire married life is one of the sweetest, tenderest, and noblest on record. Mrs. Wesley was always ready to stand by the rector. “Old as I am,” she writes, “since I have taken my husband ‘for bettor for worse,’ I’ll take my residence with him. Where he lives, will I live; where he dies, will I die; and there will we be buried. God do so to me, and more also, if aught but death part him and me.” These strong feelings of attachment were reciprocated by Mr. Wesley. “The more duty you pay her,” he writes to his son Samuel, “and the more frequently and kindly you write to her, the more you will please your affectionate father.” His picture of a good wife is an ideal description of the blessed virgin; but there is reason to believe that the original from which it was drawn was the rector’s own wife.
A GOOD MOTHER.
Who can over-estimate a woman’s worth in the relation of mother? The great Napoleon said: “A man is what his mother makes him.” Is there not much truth in the statement? The tender plant may be trained by the maternal hand for good or evil, weal or woe. John Randolph, the statesman, remarked: “I should have been a French atheist if it had not been for one recollection, and that was, the memory of the time when my departed mother used to take my little hands in hers, and cause me on my knees to say, ‘Our Father, who art in heaven.’” Providence blessed Mrs. Wesley with a large family. She was the mother of nineteen children, most of whom lived to be educated, and ten came to man’s and woman’s estate. Her heart was deeply wrung by bereavements, probably at intervals too short to allow the wounds to heal; but the desolateness of her spirit was broken in upon by the faith that the departed were well, and that the mourner would go to them.
“Oh, when the mother meets on high
The babe she lost in infancy,
Has she not then for griefs and fears—
The day of woe the watchful night,—
For all her sorrows, all her fears,—
An overpayment of delight?”
While Mrs. Wesley, like every good mother, thanked God for gladdening the earth with little children, she knew that they were sent for another purpose than merely to keep up the population. That a family so numerous, and composed of characters so powerfully constituted as the Wesleys, should grow up from childhood to maturity without their domestic disquietudes, would be beyond the range of probability. There were trials deep and heavy, but as far as we can judge, the family of the Epworth parsonage are now collected in the many-mansioned house above. A mother’s influence is the first cord of nature, and the last of memory. She who rocks the cradle, rules the world. A generation of mothers like Mrs. Wesley, would do more for the regeneration of society, than all our Sunday-schools, day-schools, refuges, reformatories, home missions, and ragged kirks put together.
HOME EDUCATION.
The code of laws laid down by Mrs. Wesley for the education of her children was about perfect. We can do little more than suggest some of the main principles upon which she acted in the discharge of this important duty. No sooner were her children born than their infant lives were regulated by method. True she delayed their literary education until they were five years old, but from their birth they were made to feel the power of her training hand; and before they could utter a word they were made to feel that there was a God. Some parents talk of beginning the education of their children. Every child’s education begins the moment it is capable of forming an idea, and it goes on like time itself, without any holidays. She aimed at the education of all their mental and bodily powers. The sleep, food, and even crying of her children was regulated. Her son John informs us, that she even taught them as infants to cry softly. One of the most difficult problems of education is, to form a child to obedience without making it servile. The will is the key of the active being, and in a great measure the key of the receptive too. Along with the inclinations, its purveyors and assessors, it must be the earliest subject of discipline. Without subjecting the will you can do nothing. On this subject we believe the views of Mrs. Wesley to be equally just and propound—to lie at the very foundation of the philosophy of education. “In order to form the minds of children,” she writes, “the first thing to be done is, to conquer their will, and bring them to an obedient temper. To inform the understanding is a work of time, and must with children proceed by slow degrees, as they are able to bear it. But the subjecting of the will is a thing that must be done at once, and the sooner the better. For by neglecting timely correction, they contract a stubbornness and obstinacy which are hardly ever conquered, and never without using such severity as is painful to me, as well as the child.” But education is something more than the teaching of proper obedience; hence she developed their physical powers, stored their intellects, cultured their tastes, and disciplined their consciences. God blessed Mrs. Wesley with signal ability for teaching; and even had the pecuniary circumstances of the family not compelled her to undertake the literary instruction of her children; she would have felt that their religious education was her special charge, and that the solemn responsibility could not be delegated to another. She was the sole instructress of her daughters. Her work was arduous, but she encouraged herself with the faith that He who made her a mother had placed in her hands the key to the recesses of the hearts of her offspring; and that the great part of family care and government consisted in the right education of children.
RELATION TO METHODISM.
Never has a century risen on Christian England so void of soul and faith as the seventeenth. Profligacy and vice everywhere prevailed, and the moral virtues of the nation were at their last gasp. God had witnesses—men of learning, ability, and piety: but they won no national influence. Methodism was the great event of the eighteenth century. For several generations there had been at work powerful influences in the ancestry of its appointed founders, which look like providential preparations. In the history of John Westley, of Whitchurch, we find a beautiful pre-shadowing of the principles more extensively embodied in the early Methodist preachers whom the illustrious grandson who bore his name associated with himself in that glorious revival. The rector of Epworth, looked favourably upon what the churchmen of his day regarded as unjustifiable irregularities, and published an eloquent defence of those religious societies which existed at the time. The religious pedigree, so evident in the paternal ancestry, was no less observable in the mother of the founder of Methodism. Maternal influence exerted over John Wesley and his brothers an all but sovereign control. His mental perplexities, his religious doubts and emotions were all submitted to the judgment and decision of his mother. When Thomas Maxfield began to preach, Wesley hurried to London to stop him. The opinion of his mother was unmistakable, and led to important consequences. “John, you know what my sentiments have been. You cannot suspect me of favouring readily anything of this kind. But take care what you do with respect to that young man; for he is as surely called of God to preach as you are. Examine what have been the fruits of his preaching, and hear him for yourself.” In estimating this remarkable woman’s relation to Methodism, we must not forget that during the different times of her husband’s absence, she read prayers and sermons, and engaged in religious conversation with her own family, and any of the parishioners who came in accidentally. What was this, but a glorious Methodist irregularity? How significant are the words of Isaac Taylor: “The Wesleys’ mother was the mother of Methodism in a religious and moral sense; for, her courage, her submissiveness to authority, the high tone of her mind, its independence, and its self-control, the warmth of her devotional feelings and the practical direction given to them,—came up, and were visibly repeated in the character and conduct of her sons.”
CHARACTER OF MRS WESLEY.
She had a strong and vigorous intellect. The variety of subjects discussed in her letters is not more astonishing than the ability with which they are all treated. Predestination is one of the topics; the lawfulness of enjoyment another; and even love forms the theme of one admirable letter, which Dr. Adam Clarke says, “would be a gem even in the best written treatise on the powers and passions of the human mind.” Her temperament was thoughtful and reflective; her judgment when once fixed, was immovable. At the same time she was refined, methodical, highly bred, and imparted these qualities to all her children.
Perhaps the most remarkable feature in the character of this distinguished woman was its moral grandeur. The holy vigilance and resolute control which she exercised over herself, meet us at every turn of her life. She held her mouth as with a bridle, lest she should offend with her tongue. “It always argues a base and cowardly temper to whisper secretly what you dare not speak to a man’s face. Therefore be careful to avoid all evil-speaking, and be ever sure to obey that command of our Saviour in this case as well as others,—‘Whatsoever ye would that men should do unto you, do ye even so unto them.’” The same vigilant government was exercised over all her appetites and passions. She believed that “any passion in excess does as certainly inebriate as the strongest liquor immoderately taken.” Such is a specimen of the golden rules which were sacredly observed by Susanna Wesley.
As regards personal appearance, the mother of the Wesleys seems to have been inferior to her sisters. They possessed fair claims to be called beautiful; she was a graceful and noble English lady, but not strikingly beautiful. Mr. Kirk, her biographer informs us that there are two portraits of Mrs. Wesley, just now claiming to be genuine: the one taken in early life, the other in old age; but neither of them conveys the idea of the elegant lady dressed à la mode. Her figure was probably slight; and her stature about the average female height.
SECTION II.—ELIZA HESSEL.
“To the common-place but important qualification for domestic duties, she added literary culture, and a character adorned with Christian virtues.”
Joshua Priestley.
WOMAN’S MISSION.
We live in an age of novelty,—new plans, new discoveries, new opinions, are common enough. Many of these relate to woman, whose importance in the scale of humanity, no rational being, above all no Christian, can doubt. We are anxious that women should be roused to a sense of their own importance and responsibility; assured that if they understood these, surprising changes would immediately take place in society, giving it a higher tone and a purer spirit. For them we claim no less exalted a mission than that of instruments for the regeneration of the world,—restorers of God’s image to the human soul. This mission they will best accomplish by moving in the circle which God and nature have appointed them. We look forward to the time, not perhaps so remote, when women shall cease to be employed in those works—rough, hard, toilsome, exhausting works—in which many are now engaged. The time will come, when capital and labour shall have become so reconciled one to another as that men may do the work of men, and women may be spared that work in order that they may the more fully preside over the work of the household. Then there will be more refinement of manner, more enjoyment of soul, more enlargement of the intellect, and more cultivation of the heart. If circumstances permit, an ambition to excel in everything that comes within woman’s domain is laudable; but if not, then do not think too much of having to forego accomplishments, in order to acquire useful, every-day attainments. The former may add to the luxuries of life; the latter is essential to the happiness of home—to the joys and endearments of a family, to the affection of relations, to the fidelity of domestics. “Woman’s mission” has become almost a phrase of the day. That there are other duties for women besides household, and for some women especially, we by no means deny. But here are the broad, general, and permanent duties of the sex.
“On home’s high duties be your thoughts employed;
Leave to the world its strivings and its void.”
Real worth will in the long run far outweigh all accomplishments.
“It is not beauty, wealth, or fame,
That can endear a dying name
And write it on the heart;
’Tis humble worth, ’tis duty done,
A course with cheerful patience run—
By these the faithful sigh is won,
The warm tear made to start.”
BIOGRAPHY.
Eliza Hessel was born at Catterton, near Tadcaster, on April 10th, 1829. Her father Benjamin Hessel, was a man of great mental and moral excellence, a worthy descendant of ancestors who had occupied a farm at Althorp, in the neighbourhood of Howden, for about five hundred years. The mother, Hannah Hessel, was a genuine Christian, born of parents who bravely shared the reproach which assailed the early Methodists. The whole family of this noble couple—two sons and three daughters, became truly pious. Both sons were called to the Christian ministry. The elder went down to his grave at the early age of twenty-four, lamented by many to whom he had been a blessing; and the younger at present occupies one of the most important positions of the Wesleyan Church in Australia. From infancy Eliza Hessel was the subject of the strivings of the Spirit. We have abundance of facts, to enable us to form a sufficiently accurate estimate of the influences operating upon her early years, and the peculiarities of her mental and moral nature. At this period she might have often been seen wandering alone wrapt in deep thought. What are the stars? How could the Almighty always have existed? Why was sin permitted to enter into the world? Such were the questions on which her young brain ruminated. An eager thirst for knowledge was associated with intense susceptibility. The sigh of the storm was to her celestial music. “Judge,” says her biographer, “of a girl of sixteen pacing the long garden walks in the cold moonlight, sitting down on the ground, and clasping her hands, uttering in a voice of such passionate earnestness as even startled herself: ‘I would gladly die this moment to solve that problem.’ That girl could be no cipher in the world. She could be no mere unit. For good or evil, she was destined to exert considerable influence.”
In August 1842, her eldest sister, Mary Ann, became the wife of the Rev. Thomas Brumwell, a Wesleyan minister, and it was arranged that Eliza should spend a few months with the newly wedded pair at Melton Mowbray. On reviewing this period, three years after, she writes: “I have sat poring over works of history, and more frequently of fiction, till my aching eye-balls have refused their office; the solemn tones of the midnight bell, and occasionally, the light chimes of the third hour of morning have warned me to my little couch, while strange visions of enchanted castles, rocking images, ominous sounds, and wild apparitions, have disturbed my feverish repose, and unfitted me for the active duties of life. Oh, these are painful reminiscences!” She remained at Melton Mowbray about ten months, and after having benefited by the educational advantages at Tadcaster, entered Miss Rinders’ boarding-school at Leeds, in January, 1845. That lady relates this portion of Eliza’s school-days thus:—“I remember distinctly the morning she was introduced into the school-room. Little did I then think what an influence the new comer would acquire over my own mind and heart. She was shy and reserved at first, but susceptible of any advance towards friendliness, and eager to reciprocate the least kindness. It was not long before her position amongst us became clearly defined. Being one of the tallest girls, a degree of freedom was at once awarded her, but her mind soon asserted a superior claim. She was a most earnest and successful student; and it became a privilege to be admitted into her little coterie of inquirers after knowledge. At her suggestion, three or four of us rose at five o’clock every morning, and met in the library to read. The books chosen were generally such as aided in our after-studies. Sometimes they yielded more pleasure than profit, but the recollection of those morning meetings is very pleasant. During our walks, too, we read together, or when books were forbidden, Eliza was never at a loss for some topic of discussion. A flower, or an insect, often supplied us with a theme. Anything in nature called forth her deepest sympathies, and made her eloquent. She told me what a wild delight she used to feel, when a mere child, amidst the scenes of nature, rambling at her own sweet will for hours together with no companions but the bee and butterfly. The love of the beautiful became more intense as she grew older, and you will not wonder that she had also a decided tinge of the romantic at this time. Her young muse sung of deeds of daring, and the achievements of fame. She bowed at the shrine of genius, and made it almost her god.”
She had a strong ambition to excel, and when the monthly budget of anonymous maiden compositions were read, a smile of recognition might have been seen passing round the school-room, as Eliza’s pieces betrayed their authorship. In a letter to Miss Rinders, she says, “I will tell you, dear Sarah, what were my reflections the first day I was at school. In the evening I sat down, and asked myself, ‘What have I learnt to-day?’ The answer my heart gave somewhat startled me. It was this: I have to-day learnt the most important lesson I ever did learn; that is, that I know nothing at all.’”
Whilst Miss Hessel was basking in the sunshine at Leeds, a dark cloud was gathering on the domestic horizon. Consumption had seized her sister, Mrs. Brumwell. Fatal symptoms rapidly developed, and with the words, “Victory, victory, through the blood of the Lamb,” upon her lips, she winged her way to the realms of the blessed. Two motherless boys, one only seven months old, and the other but two years, were now committed to the trust of Miss Hessel. Mr. Brumwell resided at Burton-on-Trent, and thither, early in 1846, she repaired. Though she did not hide her repugnance to domestic duties, the dawnings of “a horror of undomesticated literary women” were already felt, and she determined to excel in this as in other departments. Apprehensions soon began to be entertained by Miss Hessel, that the disease which had already cut off a brother and a sister had marked her as its prey. Her lungs were pronounced free from disease, but sea air was recommended. She visited Scarborough, and after three weeks returned home with improved health.
Her father’s health had been for some time declining, and in the autumn of 1847 the family left Catterton and removed to Boston Spa. Regret was naturally felt at quitting the old house, but in every respect the change was beneficial.
October, 1849, brought a fatal domestic affliction. Mr. Hessel was suddenly seized with an illness which excluded all hope of recovery, and died November 10th, aged sixty-seven years. This great loss was made up, as far as possible, by the filial and fraternal affection of her brother. He had been three years in the ministry, was now located in the Isle of Wight, and before the end of November his widowed mother and eldest sister were comfortably settled at Percy Cottage, Ventnor. Having visited Carisbrook Castle, the church of St. Lawrence (the smallest church in England,) the grave of “the Dairyman’s Daughter,” and other interesting places, Miss Hessel returned to Boston Spa the following spring. Her brother had been delicate, and it was deemed desirable to try the effect of his native air.
We now arrive at the period of Miss Hessel’s conversion. The instruments were ministers in various parts of Scotland, who were persuaded they had received “new light” on several vital doctrines. Renouncing the limited views in which they had been trained, they vigorously advocated the impartially benignant and strictly universal love of the Father, atonement of the Son, and influence of the Spirit. In the spring of 1850, a number of these zealous men visited several northern counties of England. One of them, the Rev. George Dunn, preached at Boston Spa. By that sermon, together with a subsequent conversation, Miss Hessel came to a knowledge of the truth as it is in Jesus.
On the 12th March, 1851, her brother consummated an interesting engagement with a lady resident in Bristol, the new sphere of his ministerial duty, and early in May Miss Hessel visited the bridal pair. How greatly she enjoyed that sojournment two brief sentences attest. They were written on September 13th, a few days before she left. “I have much to tell you of dear old Bristol, the city of the west, and its noble children. God bless them for the love and heart-warm kindness they have shown to a stranger and sojourner within their walls.”
Miss Hessel had not much time for the acquisition of knowledge. Her large circle of friends entailed a large correspondence. The value placed upon her society involved the consumption of much time. She gave a large amount of service to her own religious community, and often assisted efforts in distant places to promote the general welfare of humanity. Nevertheless, being possessed of strong intellectual tastes, and lively poetical sensibility, her mental powers were seldom at rest. We find her holding communion with Martin’s celebrated pictures, “The Last Judgment,” “The Plains of Heaven,” and “The Great Day of Wrath,” admiring the early spring flowers, and the glowing tints of the autumnal trees. Her poetical compositions were numerous, some of them of considerable merit, and her reading was multifarious. Every department of literature was laid under tribute. She could discover the gems, and point out the heterodox opinions in Alexander Smith’s “Life Drama;” revel beyond measure in the “Life of Dr. Chalmers;” grow sad over “Talfourd’s Final Memorials of Charles Lamb;” wonder at Coleridge’s “Aids to Reflection;” derive benefit from the prodigious vigour of Carlyle and the lofty sentiment of Channing.
During the summer of 1853, her health improved so greatly that a hope of protracted life began to dawn; but early in 1856 she began to feel that life was fading. About this time, a beloved relative died at Howden, and Miss Hessel’s health received a blow, from which it never fully rallied. She had a premonition at Mary’s grave that she should soon follow her. On the 27th August, 1857, she wrote—“My strength is very much reduced, my appetite poor, and my cough no better. I feel now that I hold life by a very slender tenure.” Early in January, 1858, she said, “All my wishes are now fulfilled. I wished to live over the new year’s tea-meeting, because my death would have cast a gloom over the rejoicings. I desire also to receive one more letter from William. The Australian mail has arrived, and here is my brother’s letter. How kind my heavenly Father is!” On Wednesday, the 27th, she entered the dark valley, the atonement her only hope. Seeing her mother weep, she said, in a tone of deep affection, “Mother, don’t cry; I am going home.” When life was well-nigh gone, with great distinctness she said, slowly, “Salvation is by faith.” A period of unconsciousness ensued, then one bright momentary gleam, and Miss Hessel was no more.
Crowds of mournful people followed her remains to the cemetery adjoining the Wesleyan church at Boston Spa. “Is not that a peaceful resting-place?” she said, a few months before. “I have chosen my grave there. Our family vault is in the churchyard, but I have a wish to be buried among my own people—the people with whom I have worked and worshipped.” In her last letter to her much-loved brother, she said, “Do not think sorrowfully of me when I am gone. Let this be my epitaph in your memory:—
“‘By the bright waters now thy lot is cast;
Joy for thee, happy one! thy bark hath past
The rough sea’s foam;
Now the long yearnings of thy soul are stilled.
Home! Home! thy peace is won, thy heart is filled;
Thou art gone Home.’”
A RIGHT PURPOSE IN LIFE.
In order to the realization of any true and practical life-purpose, three great elements seem to be necessary: to inquire for yourself, to act for yourself, and to support yourself. Miss Hessel was deeply conscious of the fact that while brutes are impelled by instinct to the course proper to their realm and nature, she was endowed with rationality, that she might act upon choice, and, though she might often not have it in her power to choose the place where to act, she could always choose how to act in it. It is not given to many to be doers of what the world counts great actions; but there is noble work for all to do. As the author of the “Christian Year” has well sung:—
“If, in our daily course, our mind
Be set to hallow all we find,
New treasures still, of countless price,
God will provide for sacrifice.
The trivial round, the common task,
Will furnish all we ought to ask:
Room to deny ourselves, a road
To bring us daily nearer God.”
She well fulfils her part in this world, who faithfully discharges the common every-day duties, and patiently bears the common every-day trials of her calling and her home. Miss Hessel had no idea of her education terminating when it was deemed necessary she should enter upon the practical duties of life. She says:—“I am endeavouring in this rural retreat to gain something every day. Though it be a little only, it is better than nothing, or, what is still worse, retrograding.” In the prime of womanhood, we find her, in every pursuit, seeking to serve and honour God. To a friend in Leeds she writes:—“I must combine expansiveness of view with concentration of purpose, in order to that beautiful harmony of character so desirable in a woman. It is true that for a man to excel in anything, for all the purposes of life, he must devote himself to some branch of science or business. I mean, I would have him to follow one business and excel in it. But woman’s mission is somewhat different, at least, that of most women,—for there are exceptions to every rule,—and my model is perfect in everything that comes within the sphere of a virtuous, intelligent, domestic woman;—so perfect that it is no easy matter to determine in what she most excels.”
AN EXCELLENT DAUGHTER.
Miss Hessel bound the best of all ornaments, filial love and obedience, on her brow. This is the only commandment of the ten that has the promise joined to it, as if to show the place it holds in the Divine estimation. Without this virtue we should think very little of all there might be besides. Some daughters go abroad seeking pleasure where it never can be found; but Miss Hessel remained at home, giving pleasure that was more cheering to her parents than the brightest beam that ever shot from the sun, and more precious than all the riches the broad earth could have poured into their lap. As a daughter, she was anxious to do her duty. The discharge of that duty brings with it innumerable blessings; its nonperformance has been the first step in the downward course of untold thousands, and will be, we fear, of thousands more. Her strong filial affection is exhibited in the following sentences:—“There is one who demands all my sympathy and affection; who as a wife and a mother, has discharged the important duties of her station in a manner which evinced the strength of her conjugal and maternal affection, and whose peculiarly trying circumstances gave an opportunity for the full development of that self-devoted disinterested, Christian heroism, which her children will remember with gratitude, when her name and the memory of her high work, will be enshrined only in the hearts of those who witnessed such devotedness. Of such fortitude in trial, steadfastness in adversity, and dauntless energy when despair would have overwhelmed some hearts, and, above all, of such unassuming piety, fame speaks not. But these are engraved in a more enduring page, and will have their reward when earth and its emblazoned pomp and pride shall have passed away like a vision.” Well done fair lass! The recording angel takes notes of thy dutiful devotion, and publishes it beyond the domestic hearth. Happy mother, whose toils, sufferings, and sacrifices, deserved such recompense!
A LOVING SISTER.
As a sister it would be difficult to over-estimate Miss Hessel’s worth. Being wise and virtuous, she swayed an influence of untold power. How often have we observed the difference between young men who have enjoyed, when under the home-roof, the companionship of a sister, and those who were never so favoured. Sisters, with few exceptions, are kind and considerate; and home is a dearer spot to all because they tread its hearth. How touching are Miss Hessel’s reminiscences of her beloved and highly-gifted brother, who died when she was only nine years old. In a letter to her biographer she says, August 16th: “As I wrote the date at the top of this letter, the recollection flashed across my mind that this is the anniversary of dear John’s birthday. He has been nearly seventeen years in heaven. Seventeen years of uninterrupted progression in knowledge, in holiness, in bliss, with a mind unfettered in its researches and a soul unencumbered by infirmity or sin in its aspirations! How incomparably nobler he must be now than when he first entered his heavenly mansion! I did not tell you how of late years the idea of him has strangely interwoven itself with my inner being.” How faithful generally is a sister’s love. Place her by the side of the sick couch, let her have to count over the long dull hours of night, and wait, alone and sleepless, the struggle of the grey dawn into the chamber of suffering—let her be appointed to this ministry for father, mother, sister, or brother, and she feels no weariness, nor owns recollection of self. Miss Hessel never entered the marriage relation. She is not to be undervalued because of her freedom from conjugal engagements. From the ranks of maidenhood have risen some of the noblest specimens of noble womanhood. Long will our soldiers talk of Miss Nightingale moving to and fro on the shores of the Euxine, like an angel of mercy. Long will our navvies think of the happy hours spent in Beckenham, where Miss Marsh taught them to live “soberly, righteously, and godly.” Long will Miss Faithful be remembered by the needy of her own sex in pursuit of employment.
HOUSEHOLD MANAGEMENT.
The whole household duties were performed by the mother and her two daughters, and Miss Hessel, in consequence of the delicate health of her sister, took more than her share. After making some observations on “Todd’s Student’s Manual,” she writes her brother: “I am not speaking of it as a whole, for what was written expressly for students cannot be applicable to the case of a woman whose character must ever be domestic, while she humbly strives to be intelligent. I detest the word ‘intellectual’ when applied to a woman. It is impossible for my mind to separate it from those horrid visions of untidy drawers, unmended stockings, neglected families, and all the other characteristics of a slatternly wife.” About six years afterwards, she says to a friend: “I have just been reading an article in a periodical which has amused me greatly. It is on ‘Female Authors.’ Its purport is that an unmarried woman, once fairly convicted of literature, must never expect to sign her marriage-contract, but may make up her mind to solitariness in the world she presumes to create for herself. Miss Landon is the only scribe recognised ‘who was ever invited to change the name she had made famous.’ All married literary women, it is asserted, ‘wore orange-blossom, before they assumed the bay-leaf.’ It is enough to frighten one if matrimony were the great end of our existence. But as I believe that a life of usefulness, in the fullest and best sense of that word—universal usefulness, if you will admit the term—is the highest good of woman, I think that matrimony even should be subservient to this end.” Miss Hessel, to her credit be it said, never neglected domestic duties for literary pursuits. Her aim was not to win for herself the notice of the public, but to build up a monument of usefulness—to make her life a noble and useful one—to build well “both the seen and unseen parts.” “The mistaken idea,” says an excellent lady, “that has generally prevailed, that woman’s work comes intuitively to her, and requires no learning, has caused, and is causing, a vast amount of misery and mischief.”
CHARACTER OF MISS HESSEL.
When a girl, Miss Hessel was tall, delicate, and sickly; a glance at her pale countenance was enough to satisfy any intelligent observer that the activity of the brain was morbid. Rapid growth contributed to physical debility; and at one period she suffered a good deal from tic-douloureux. When she became a woman, she was well-proportioned. Her features resembled those of her sainted brother, and intimate acquaintance was not necessary to prove that there were other than physical approximations.
The intellect was keen, comprehensive, and discriminating. In these hollow times, the female world teems with fantastic puppets of affectation and vanity, but here we have no creature of carnality, but an intelligent woman, with large reflective powers. A refined ideality was early developed, and carefully cultivated by the thorough mastering of our best literature, and especially of our best poetry. In consequence of her capacious memory, and strong imagination, she became almost a reflection of her favourite authors. Her love for poetry, flowers, and everything beautiful in nature or in art, amounted to a passion.
The moral character of Miss Hessel was of still superior glory. Of high spirit she gave ample proof when a pupil, and not beyond her eighth year. In the master’s absence one day, an occurrence transpired which kindled his displeasure. He thought Eliza’s younger sister was the chief culprit, and ordered her into the “naughty corner.” Eliza, knowing her sister’s innocence, rose from her seat, marched boldly forth, brought away the victim, and defiantly exclaimed, “My sister shall not be put into the corner!” However, unmagisterial acquiescence was deemed prudent. To fortitude she added great love of humanity. A purer benevolence has seldom glowed even in the bosom of woman. Of disinterestedness her whole life was one bright example. Like all young people, she had many faults, but as she approached womanhood, she discovered and by Divine assistance corrected them. Her chief excellencies are within the reach of all.