7: Of Her Exceeding Desires to Do Good
7
OF HER EXCEEDING DESIRES
TO DO GOOD
[Margaret facilitated Richard’s ministry and furthered the Gospel every way she could. She hired rooms for preaching, built a chapel, started a school, recruited supply preachers, raised and disbursed large sums for charity, and more. Her initiative in commandeering a carpenter to fix a cracked beam kept the floor of an upstairs room (where Richard was preaching) from fatal collapse. Her zeal sometimes led her into unwise decisions and strained her resources to the utmost. While keeping Richard active in the pulpit without salary, she criticized nonconforming clergy who feared arrest and complained of want, and she disagreed with Richard’s attempts to ease young men’s passage into ordained ministry, lest they prove hypocrites, just as she disagreed with his reluctance to borrow money for charitable purposes.]
As at her conversion and in her sickness she absolutely devoted herself and all that she had to God, so she earnestly set herself to perform it to the last. At first she gave but the tenth of her incomes to the poor; but I quickly convinced her that God must not be stinted, but as all was his, so all must be used for him by his stewards, and of all we must give account. Only in his appointed order we must use it, which is: 1. For our own natural necessities. 2. For public necessary good. 3. For the necessities of our children and such relations as are part of our charge. 4. And then for the godly poor. 5. And then for the common poor’s necessities. 6. And lastly, for conveniences, but nothing for unuseful things.
To name the particular great instances of her private charity is neither suitable to my ends nor her desires. I will instance but some of her more public cares.
She was earnestly desirous of the winning of souls and of the utmost improvement of mine and other men’s labors to that end. At Acton, I told you how she promoted it; and at Totteridge, out of church time, she gladly opened her doors to her neighbors that would come in for instruction.
At London, when she saw me too dull and backward to seek any employment till I was called, and that most places in the city had some supplies, she first fished out of me in what place I most desired more preaching. I told her in St. Martin’s Parish,25 where are said to be forty thousand more than can come into the church, especially among all the new buildings in St. James’, where neighbors may live like Americans [i.e., Native Americans of pagan faith] and have heard no sermon of many years.
When she had once heard this, without my knowledge she set one to seek after some capacious room there; and none was found, but diverse rooms over the market-house laid together. She got one to take them. And they two agreed to importune me to preach each morning, and in the afternoon to get by turns the ablest ministers they could procure in London. And to that end she got a minister an hundred miles off to come up and help me, promising him £40 a year to go from day to day to supply the places of such eminent ministers as should be got. All this charge, besides paying a clerk and a woman to look to the seats, rose high. Part of it the people paid, and the rest she paid herself.
Hence God was pleased to remove us, but by the interposition of a marvelous deliverance. The roof of that market-house is a vast weight, and was ill-contrived to lie much on one beam in the middle of the floor. The place being greatly crowded, the beam gave so great a crack as put all the people in a fear. But a second crack set them all on running and crying out at the windows for ladders. I have seen the like before at Dunstan’s Fleet Street, while I was preaching (which occasioned the pulling down and new building of the church),26 so I reproved them sharply for their fears and would have gone on to preach, but see the strange hand of God on her that set all the work on foot! After the first crack she got down the stairs through the crowd, where others could not get that were stronger. The first man she met, she asked him what profession he was of. He said, a carpenter. Saith she, “Can you suddenly put a prop under the middle of this beam?” The man dwelt close by and had a meet prop ready. He suddenly put it under, while all we above knew nothing of it; but the man’s knocking increased the people’s fears and cry. We were glad all to be gone, and the next morning took a skilful workman to take up the boards and search the beam, which we saw had two rents, so long and so wide and the sound part left was so slender, that we took it for a wonder that the house fell not suddenly.
But this fright increased my wife’s diseased frightfulness; so that she never got off all the effects of it while she lived. The fear and the marvelous deliverance made her promise to God two things: to keep the anniversary memorial of it in public thanksgiving (which she did), and to build a safer place, where they might meet with less fear. And it too deeply touched her mind to think that it was she that took the place and brought them all thither. And if eight hundred persons had been there buried in the ruins, as the Papists were at Blackfriars,27 O what a dreadful thing it would have been in the heavy loss, the many dolorous families, and the public scandal! These were too great thoughts to fall on a weak and too passionate nature.
According to her promise she paid for that place and presently set to seek and build another. And there was there no fit grounds near it to be had, but two; one of which was in Oxenden Street, which she could not have without giving £30 a year ground rent, and to be at all the charge of building on it, and this but for a lease not very long. But she must do it by promise and desire. She gets a friend to make the bargain, takes the ground, and begs money to build on it a chapel (which tempted us by the ill-advice of a friend to take also the frontage to the street and build two little houses on it, to our great loss, all her own money and many times more being laid out upon them, much against her inclination).
When that chapel was finished, I began and preached there but one day, being to go on the morrow into the country. It unhappily fell out that Secretary Henry Coventry’s28 house was on the back side of it, who resolved that it should not be used by us. The next Lord’s Day when I was far off and left my wife at home, she got one Mr. Seddon, a Derbyshire stranger then come to town, to preach there (an humble pious man, what had suffered imprisonment formerly by Cromwell’s party for being for the King’s Restoration at the rising of Sir George Booth). Secretary Coventry, thinking I would be there, had got three justices with a warrant as for me [i.e., naming me specifically] to have apprehended me and sent me to jail. But it fell on Mr. Seddon. But because the warrant made for me was so altered as to the name that it suited not his case, after some time of imprisonment he had his Habeas Corpus, and by the justice of worthy Judge Hale and other judges was delivered. But he was a tender man, and my wife felt that she was the occasion (which did her no good), and all the burden lay on her to maintain him, to visit and comfort him, to pay the lawyers and discharge all fees; which as I remember cost her £20. And yet we were calumniated as if I (that was twenty miles off) had put another to suffer in my stead.
When she saw that we could not be suffered to preach in that place which upon her promise she had built, she was very glad that Dr. Lloyd29 and the parishioners accepted of it for their public worship, asking them no more rent than we were to pay for the ground, and the room over a vestry at £5, and asking no advantage for all the money laid out on the building; yet since that time the purchase of the fee-simple [i.e., freehold] of the chapel ground hath cost me £200 more (and the adjoining ground £200 more, to my great loss).
So much was her heart set on helping the ignorant, untaught poor about St. James’ that she set up a school there to teach some poor children to read, and the catechism,30 freely, and thereby also relieved a poor honest man that taught them, who hath a wife and many children and no other maintenance of his own (Mr. Bruce). And she would have set up more, had she had money. For this she begged awhile of her good friends, but they quickly gave over, and she paid him mostly of her own, five pounds a year till her death. I mention this to move some charitable people to continue it, and to tell them that in the many great out-parishes of London there are multitudes of the children of the poor that spend their time in idleness and in play and are never taught to read, and that there are many good women very poor that would be glad of a small stipend to teach such to read, and the catechism; and so both might have relief and help. And I think charity can scarce be better used, as honest Mr. Gouge hath in Wales found by experience.31 And I would such places in London where the tenth or the fourth person in the parish cannot come to church, and many thousands have disused themselves from God’s public worship, and breed up their children accordingly, were pitied as well as Wales.
When she saw that she could not use the chapel she built, she presently hired another near (ready built, for gain) in Swallow Street, that the poor people where I had begun (through God’s mercy with considerable success) might still be taught. And when I had there a while continued, and then was kept out (by the officers standing at the door with the Justices’ warrant many months together), it was her care and act to refer it to many good ministers, to choose one for the place that would be better endured by them that would not endure me; and a faithful, hard-working, self-denying man was chosen who hath there done much good and still doth.
When I was thence driven, it was her choice that I should go quite to Southwark each Lord’s Day to preach to a congregation of poor people there.
When Dr. Manton’s place at Covent Garden was void,32 it was her desire that I should preach once a day there, because being near, many of the poor of St. James’ would come thither, as they did.
She got from her friends also money to help to build another very useful chapel for another amongst a numerous poor people, where still much good is done. And she promoted two or three such more.
She was very impatient of public collections for the ministers or for the rent of the place, because it sounded mercenary, and prejudiced the ignorant and covetous, and troubled the poor that had no money, and therefore did the utmost she could with her own purse and her friends to avoid it, knowing that rent must be paid and ministers and their families must have bread (and it is a pity they should be under the cares of want).
She was so far from crossing me in my preaching freely without salary, or gathering a church that would maintain me, or making collections or getting subscriptions, that she would not have endured any such things had I desired it. Though she knew that the laborer was worthy of his hire and that God had ordained that they that preach the gospel should live of the gospel, yet she knew that all must be done to the furtherance of the gospel, and to edifying; and was of Paul’s mind, that would rather die than any should make his glorying void and deprive him of that reward. Therefore it was so far from offending her (as it would be with many ministers’ wives that were in want, and might have such maintenance as is their due) that I neither conformed nor took any place of gain, that it was as much by her will as my own that for the first nine or ten years of my ejected state I took not so much as any private gift to supply my wants, except ten pounds a year from Sergeant Fountaine,33 which his importunity and my civility would not permit me to refuse.
And I take it yet for a greater part of her self-denial and charity that, when her own estate proved much too short to maintain her in the exercise of such good works as she was devoted to, she at length refused not to accept with thanks the liberality of others and to live partly on charity, that she might exercise charity to them that could not so easily get it from others as we could do. And, accordingly of latter years diverse faithful pious friends (no way related to us or obliged by us) have been so free, kind, and liberal, that I have much ado to forbear here naming them, in expression of their bounty and my thanks. And I must say of her, that once her pride would not have stooped to be so much beholden as to live on the charity of strangers.
When warrants were out (from Sir Thomas Davis)34 to distrain of [i.e., confiscate and sell] my goods for fines for my preaching, she did without any repining encourage me to undergo the loss and did herself take the trouble of removing and hiding my library awhile (many score books being so lost), and after she encouraged me to give it away, bona fide,35 some to New England, and the most at home to avoid distraining on them. And the danger of imprisonment and of paying a fine of £40 for every sermon was so far from inclining her to hinder or discourage me from any one sermon, that if she did but think I had the least fear, or self-saving by fleshly wisdom, in shrinking from my undertaken office work, it was so great a trouble to her that she could not hide it (who could too much hide many others).
She was exceeding impatient with any Nonconforming minister that shrank for fear of suffering or that were overquerulous and concerned about their wants or dangers, and would have no man be minister that had not so much self-denial as to lay down all at the feet of Christ and count no cost or suffering too dear to serve him. She greatly hated choosing or using the sacred ministry for wealth, ease, or honor, or any worldly end serving the flesh under the name of serving Christ, and looking to be reverenced and honored in this taking of God’s name in vain.
Accordingly, after some years wherein a larger course had been taken, she was against my persuading parents to devote their children to the ministry, that had but good wits and abilities and were not profane; though my success with some did much encourage me to it heretofore. But her sense of the sin and mischief of bad ministers made her persuade all that in that case she had to do with, to take heed of devoting their sons to the ministry till they had good reason to judge them truly godly; and as she would not have pious persons to marry such as were not pious, on pretense of hopes that God would convert them; so much less would she have such hopes that have no promise from God, made a pretext for devoting unsanctified lads to the sacred office. She saw how many, even of good men’s children, profaned the ministry and turned to any course that did but serve their worldly interest, so that she was vehemently against committing any to that office that had not, besides good wits and parts, so great a love of God and souls as to come to it with absolute self-denial, resolved to serve Christ at the dearest rates, and to take his acceptance and the winning of souls for their benefice.
She was not willing to entice any into the way of the ministry as a common trade to live by in the world, and would have had two or three reading, writing, and catechizing schools set up instead of one grammar school; and she would not have parents make scholars of bad children nor send them to the universities, lest when they had a little wordy learning they should make themselves ministers, whether their parents would or not; and thus a swarm of such as had been a few years at the university should think a benefice their due, and take the charge of the souls of many, that never knew the worth of one, nor how it must be qualified and guided.
Her expectations of liberality to the poor from others were too high, and her displeasure too great towards them that denied her, whereupon when she saw a worthy person in debt or prison or great want, she would promise to gather them such a sum, and sometimes she was put to pay most of it herself. But a fortnight or month before she died she promised to get £20 toward the relief of one of known name and worth, and could get but £8 and somewhat over of it, and paid all the rest herself.
Her judgment was that we ought to give more or less to every one that asketh, if we have it; and that neighborhood and notice and asking, next to known indigence and great worth, are marks by which to know to whom God would have us give. I thought that besides these, we must exercise prudence in discerning the degrees of need and worth. But she practiced as she thought, and specially to them in prison for debt, and blamed me if I denied anyone.
Alas, I know many poor widows and others who think they have now lost a mother and are left desolate, whom I could wish some that are able would help, instead of the help which they have lost.
She was much more liberal to many of my own poor kindred than I was; but her way was not to maintain them in idleness, but to take children and set them to some trade, or help them by reason of some special aptitudes.
To her own kindred she bare a most tender love; but her care was most to get them to be good and save their souls, and next to settle them well in the world. I had ever been greatly averse to act as a matchmaker, yet she even compelled me (first satisfying my reason) to find a wife for her only brother’s son, who, it is said, was worth to him above £20,000. And her sister’s children she loved as if they had been her own, especially three daughters.
There are some things charged on her as faults, which I shall mention. That she busied her head so much about churches and works of charity and was not content to live privately and quietly. But this is only just what profane unbelievers say against all zeal and serious godliness: What needs there all this ado? Doth not Paul call some women his helps in the gospel? He that knows what it is to do good and makes it the business of his life in the world, and knows what it is to give account of our stewardship and to be doomed as the unprofitable slothful servant, will know how to answer this accusation.
Another accusation is that she was wasteful and imprudent in leaving me so much debt. To that I answer: Let anyone that reads what went before, consider what she did, and he will not wonder at her debts. It was not to pamper her own body; she used inexpensive clothing, and a far meaner diet for her own person, I think much less than Cornario’s and Lessius’ proportion.36
And she went into no debt but (by mortgage, or otherwise) she gave the creditors good security for.
But I confess she and I differed in this: I thought I was only to give all my income, and not to borrow to give, unless in some public or extraordinary case; she thought otherwise, that while she could give security, she ought to borrow money to relieve the poor, especially the most worthy. Nor did she draw upon us any debt but what there was not only sufficient security for, but also a fair prospect of ourselves having a competency left, had it pleased God to lengthen her life, and I am far from fearing want myself.
But so much for opening the course of her studies, labors, expenses, and indeed her delights.