in a letter she wrote to her son Samuel in November this year:* tho' it must be acknowledged that she had not then conversed with them on the subject, and, therefore, did not know what doctrines they taught except by report. But soon after, she came to reside chiefly in London, and then enjoyed the conversation of her sons alternately, the one being always in town while the other was in the country. She also attended on their ministry, conversed with the people of the society, and became more perfectly acquainted with their whole doctrine, and seems heartily to have embraced it. She continued in the most perfect harmony with them till her death; attending on their ministry, and walking in the light of God's countenance, she rejoiced in the happy experience of the truth she heard them preach. In the first attempts of a Layman to preach, it is said she heard his discourse. Mr John Wesley was, at this time, absent from London; but the thing being quite new, and appearing extraordinary, he was immediately made acquainted with it. He hastened up to London, with a full determination to put a stop to so glaring an irregularity. He conversed with his mother on the subject and told her his intention. She said, "I charge you before God, take care what you do, for that man is as much called to preach the gospel as ever you were. This kept him from an hasty execution of his purpose; and it being found, upon enquiry, that good was done to the people, the practice was suffered to continue. Mr. Wesley gives the following account of his mother's death :t "I left Bristol in the evening of Sunday the 18th, (July 1742) and on Tuesday came to London. I found my mother on the borders of eternity. But she had no doubt nor fear; nor any desire but as soon as God should call, to depart and be with Christ. Friday the 23d, about three in the afternoon, I went to my mother, and found her change was near. She was in her last conflict, unable to speak, but, I believe, quite sensible. 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 loosing, and the wheel breaking at the cistern; and then, without any struggle, or sigh, or groan, the soul was set at liberty! We stood round the bed, and fulfilled her last request, uttered a little before she lost her speech; Children, as soon as I am released, sing a psalm of praise to God.' Sunday, August 1st. Almost an innumerable company of people being gathered together, about five in the afternoon, I committed to the earth the body of my mother to sleep with her fathers. The portion of scripture from which I afterwards spoke, was, I saw a great white throne and him that sat on it; from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away, and there was found no place for them. And I saw the dead, small and great, standing before God, and the books were opened And the dead were judged out of those things which were written in the books, according to their works. Printed in Dr. Priestley's Collection. + Wesley's Works, Duodecimo Edition, Vol. xxviii. p. 83. N. B. The date in the printed Journal is erroneous.' It was one of the most solemn assemblies I ever saw, on this side eternity. or expect to see "We set up a plain stone at the head of her grave, inscribed with the following words: "Here lies the body of Mrs. Susannah Wesley, the youngest and last surviving daughter of Dr. Samuel Annesley. "In sure and steadfast hope to rise, SECTION III. OF MR. WESLEY'S SISTERS. MRS. SUSANNAH WESLEY, of whom we have last spoken, had ta ken great pains with all her children, to furnish their minds with useful knowledge, and to instil into them the principles of religion and virtue. The daughters were by no means neglected, they shared their mother's care with the sons. Most of them had a fine genius for poetry; but Mrs. Wright shone the brightest in this walk of elegant amusement, and to her we shall chiefly confine our observations in speaking of the daughters of these venerable parents. Mrs. Wright was her mother's tenth or eleventh child; and it has been said, that when she was eight years old she could read the Greek Testament. From her infancy she was gay and sprightly, and extremely addicted to wit and humour.. As she grew up, she indulged herself in these dispositions so far as to give great uneasiness to her parents, and was often betrayed into little inadvertencies, which contributed, at least, to her future unhappiness in life. About the year 1724, or the beginning of 1725, a gentleman, respectable so far as we can find, both for his abilities and situation in life, paid his addresses to her, and she had a sincere regard for him. But from some circumstance or other, he and her father disagreed, and the affair was broken off. From a concurrence of circumstances in the end of the year 1725, she was induced to marry a person no way adapted to make her happy; being low and rude in address, and much inferior to her in understanding; and he proved unkind to her. Her situation preyed upon her mind, her health and strength gradually wasted away, and at length, she sunk into a degree of melancholy that made her truly wretched. Most of her verses which have been preserved, though beautiful, and written in the true spirit of poetry, are saddened with an air of deep distress, which strongly marks this state of her body and mind. The following beautiful lines seem to have been a mere extempore effusion poured out from the fulness of her heart on the occasion, and sharpened with the keen distress of her hopeless situation. Address to her dying Infant,* September, 1728. In this state of mind and declining fast in health, she wrote the following Epitaph for herself: 'Destin'd while living to sustain A broken heart can bleed no more." Mrs. Wright, however, lived many years after this; and, at length, religion coming to her aid, it soothed the anguish of her mind, and gave her peace, tho' she never recovered her health. * The child died the third day after it was born. Private Papers, The first religious letter she wrote to Mr. Wesley, was in 1743; she says, "Some years ago I told my brother Charles, I could not be of his way of thinking then, but that if ever I was, I would as freely own it. After I was convinced of sin-and of your opinion, as far as I had examined your principles, I still forbore declaring my sentiments so openly as I had inclination to do, fearing I should relapse into my former state. When I was delivered from this fear, and had a blessed hope, that he who had begun would finish his work, I never confessed, so fully as I ought, how entirely I was of your mind; because I was taxed with insincerity and hypocrisy whenever I opened my mouth in favour of religion, or owned how great things God had done for me. This discouraged me utterly, and prevented me from making my change as public as my folly and vanity had formerly been. But now my health is gone, I cannot be easy without declaring that I have long desired to know but one thing; that is Jesus Christ, and him crucified; and this desire prevails above all others And tho' I am cut off from all human help or ministry, I am not without assistance; tho' I have no spiritual friend, nor ever had one yet, except, perhaps, once in a year or two, when I have seen one of my brothers, or some other religious person, by stealth: yet (no thanks to me) Í am enabled to seek him still, and to be satisfied with nothing less than God, in whose presence I affirm this truth. I dare not desire health, only patience, resignation, and the spirit of an healthful mind.—Í have been so long weak, that I know not how long my trial may last; but I have a firm persuasion and blessed hope (though no full assurance) that in the country I am going to, I shall not sing Hallelujah, and Holy, holy, holy, without company, as I have done in this. Dear brother, I am unused to speak or write on these things-I only speak my plain thoughts as they occur. Adieu. If you have time from better business, to send a line to Stanmore, so great a comfort would be as welcome as it is wanted." In July, 1744, she wrote to her brother from Bristol, where, it seems, she then resided, at least for some time. She speaks of herself in the most humiliating terms. She highly commends the christian friendship of Mrs. Vigor, Miss Stafford, and some others. She now enjoyed the means of grace, and the benefit of conversation with the people of the society, and continued to grow in grace and in the knowledge of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ. Mrs. Wright persevered in a religious course of life, patient in her sufferings, resigned to her weakness, and waiting for full salvation in a deliverance from this mortal state, till 1751. In March this year, Mr. Charles Wesley speaks thus of her:-"Prayed by my sister Wright, a gracious, tender, trembling soul; a bruised reed, which the Lord will not break." She died on the 21st of the same month, and Mr. Charles preached her funeral sermon. He observes that he had sweet fellowship with her in explaining those words, Thy sun shall no more go down, neither shall thy moon withdraw itself; for the Lord shall be thine everlasting light, and the days of thy mourning shall be ended. He adds, "All present seemed partakers both of my sorrow and my joy.” From this authentic account of Mrs. Wright, taken from original letters, we may correct an error of Mr. Duncombe concerning her. This gentleman has insinuated in his Feminead, that her pungent distress and gloomy despair, originated from mistaken and superstitious views of religion: it appears, on the contrary, that they arose from a very different cause, and that religion was the thing that restored her to peace and happiness; and, indeed, the only thing that could do it. Mr. Duncombe's words are, "But ah! why heaves my breast this pensive sigh? It is grievous to see authors, whose works are likely to be read, take every opportunity to dress out religion in the most ugly forms they can invent, to deter young people from embracing it, and attributing to it the calamities of life, which religion alone is able to alleviate and redress. The following, among other poetical compositions, were written by Mrs. Wright; but at what period of her life is not known. To the Memory of her Uncle, a Physician.t "HOW can the muse attempt the string, Ah me! that she survives to sing, Her friend and patron, now no more! "Alas! the sovereign healing art, Nor could its skilful master save. And ward all dangers but his own. His darling muse, his CLIO dear, *See Christian Magazine, vol. iii. p. 523. Christian Magazine, vol. iii. p. 284. See above page 8. |