6: Of Our Marriage and Our Habitations
6
OF OUR MARRIAGE AND
OUR HABITATIONS
[Marriage to Richard meant a social and financial comedown for Margaret, but she took this in stride, finding great fulfillment in married life as she laid herself out to support Richard and help others both materially and spiritually. She accepted constant changes of residence without complaint, handling each new domestic situation beautifully, even when it meant joining her husband in prison.]
The unsuitableness of our age, and my former known purposes against marriage, and against the conveniency of ministers’ marriage, who have no sort of necessity, made our marriage the matter of much public talk and wonder. And the true opening of her case and mine, and the many strange occurrences which brought it to pass, would take away the wonder of her friends and mine that knew us; and the notice would much conduce to the understanding of some other passages of our lives. Yet wise friends, by whom I am advised, think it better to omit such personal particularities at least at this time. Both in her case and mine, there was much extraordinary, which it doth not much concern the world to be acquainted with. From the first thoughts of it, many changes and stoppages intervened, and long delays, till I was silenced and ejected with many hundreds more, and so being separated from my old pastoral charge, which was enough to take up all my time and labor, some of my dissuading reasons were then over. And at last on September 10, 1662, we were married in St. Benet-Fink Church, by Mr. Samuel Clark (yet living), having been before contracted by Mr. Simeon Ash, both in the presence of Mr. Henry Ashurst and Mrs. Ash.20
She consented to these conditions of our marriage. That I would have nothing that before our marriage was hers, that I (who wanted no outward supplies) might not seem to marry her for covetousness. That she would so alter her affairs, that I might be entangled in no lawsuits. That she would expect none of my time which my ministerial work should require.
When we were married, her sadness and melancholy vanished: Counsel did something to it, and contentment something; and being taken up with our household affairs did somewhat. And we lived in inviolated love and mutual complacency conscious of the benefit of mutual help. These near nineteen years I know not that we ever had any breach in the point of love or point of interest, save only that she somewhat grudged that I had persuaded her for my quietness to surrender so much of her estate, as disabled her from helping others so much as she earnestly desired. But that even this was not from a covetous mind is evident by these instances. Though her portion (which was £2,000 besides that given up aforesaid) was (by ill-debtors) £200 lost in her mother’s time and £200 after, before her marriage, and all she had reduced to almost £1,650, yet she never grudged at anything that the poverty of debtors deprived her of.
She had before been acquainted with the Lord Chancellor’s offering me a bishopric; and though it might have taken off the censure of those relations that thought that she debased herself in marrying me, and also might have seemed good to her for the wealth as well as the honors, she was so far from desiring my accepting it, that I am persuaded had I done it, it would have alienated her much from me in point of esteem and love. Not that she had any opinion against the episcopacy, then (that ever I could perceive), but that she abhorred a worldly mercenary mind in a minister of Christ and was a sharp censor of all that for gain or honor or worldly ends should stretch their consciences to anything that they thought God forbade. I am assured (though toward her end she wished she had been abler to relieve the needy and do more good), that she lived a far more contented life in our mean condition, even when she stooped to receive from others that had been strangers to her, than she would have done had I been a bishop and she had had many thousand pounds more at her disposal; yea, I am persuaded she would not have easily endured it.
Another trial of her wealth and honor was when I and all such others were cast out of all possession and hope of all ecclesiastical maintenance; she was not ignorant of the scorn and the jealousies and wrath and persecutions that I was likely to be exposed to; yea, she had heard and seen it already begun by Bishop Morley21 forbidding me to preach before, and preaching himself, and his dean [i.e., the clergyman in charge of Worcester Cathedral] and many others fiercely against me in Kidderminster pulpit; she had quickly heard them that were cast out and silenced, deeply accused as if they had deserved it. To choose a participation of such a life that had no encouragement from any worldly wealth or honor, yea, that was exposed to such certain suffering which had no end in prospect on this side death, did show that she was far from covetousness. Much more evidence of this I shall show you as it falls in its place.
Among other troubles that her marriage exposed her to, one was our oft necessitated removals [i.e., moves to different houses or towns], which to those that must take houses and bind themselves to landlords and fit and furnish them is more than for single persons that have no such clogs or cares. First we took a house in Moorfields, after at Acton; next that, another at Acton, and after that another there; and after that we were put to one of the former again; and after that to diverse others in another place and county, as followeth. And the women have most of that sort of trouble, but she easily bare it all.
And I know not that ever she came to any place where she did not extraordinarily win the love of the inhabitants (unless in any street where she stayed so short a time as not to be known to them). Had she had but the riches of the world to have done the good that she had a heart to do, how much would she have been loved, who in her mean and low condition won so much?
And her behavior in public won more love than her liberality; she could not endure to hear one give another any sour, rough, or hasty word. Her speech and countenance was always kind and civil, whether she had anything to give or not.
And all her kindness tended to some better end than barely to relieve people’s bodily wants, even to oblige or to deliver them from some straits which filled them with hurtful care and became a matter of great temptation to them. If she could hire the poor to hear God’s Word from Conformist or Nonconformist, or to read good serious practical books, whether written by Conformists or Nonconformists, it answered her end and desire, and many an hundred books hath she given to those ends. But of these things more hereafter. This is here but to answer the foresaid objection, and to lead on to the following particular passages of her life.
While I was at Acton, her carriage and charity so won the people there, that all I ever heard of greatly esteemed and loved her. And she, being earnestly desirous of doing good, prepared her house for the reception of those that would come in to be instructed by me between the morning and evening public assemblies, and after. And the people that had never been used to such things, accounted worldly ignorant persons, gave us great hopes of their edification and reformation, and filled the room and went with me also into the church (which was at my door). And when I was afterward removed, the people hearing that I again wanted a house (being ten miles off), they unanimously subscribed a request to me to return to my old house with them and offered to pay my house rent, which I took kindly; and it was much her winning behavior which thus won their love.
When I was carried thence to the common jail for teaching them, as aforesaid, I never perceived her trouble at it. She cheerfully went with me into prison; she brought her best bed thither and did much to remove the removable inconveniences of the prison. I think she scarce ever had a pleasanter time in her life than while she was with me there. And whereas people upon such occasions were not unapt to be liberal, it was against her mind to receive more than necessity required. Only three persons gave me just as much as paid lawyers and prison charges, and when one offered me more, she would not receive it. But all was far short of the great charges of our removal to another habitation.
The Parliament making a new sharper law against us, I was forced to remove into another county.22 Thither she went with me and removed her goods that were removable from Acton to Totteridge, being engaged for the rent of the house we left. At Totteridge, the first year, few poor people are put to the hardness that she was put to. We could have no house but part of a poor farmer’s, where the chimneys so extremely smoked as greatly annoyed her health; for it was a very hard winter, and the coal smoke so filled the room that we were all day sat in that it was as a cloud, and we were even suffocated with the stink. And she had ever a great constriction of the lungs that could not bear smoke or closeness. This was the greatest bodily suffering that her outward condition put her to, which was increased by my continual pain there. But her charity to her poor landlady set her son apprentice, who now liveth well.
Thence we removed to a house, which we took to ourselves, which required so great alterations and amendment as took her up much time and labor; and to her great comfort she got Mr. Corbet and his wife to dwell with us. And in all these changes and troubles she lived in great peace.
When the King’s Declarations and Licences gave Nonconformists leave to build meeting-places and preach,23 she was against my going to London till others were there settled, lest I should anticipate them and gather any auditors who would else go to others, especially their old ejected pastors, but when others were settled, she was earnest with me to go for the exercise of my ministry.
Upon our remove to London, out of tender regard to my health, which she thought the situation might contribute much unto,24 she chose and took for us this most pleasant and convenient house in Southampton Square, where she died. These were our removes.