Amen. Father, we do just let our glad amen resound down joining those who across the ages
have said it is indeed so to your faithfulness and your goodness and your mercy and your love.
So we thank you that we can root our lives upon the rock of your character and your covenant
promises and it is well with us. Lord, so as we gather today to worship you, give us full hearts
by the agency of your spirit that we might rejoice in the great salvation that is ours
through Jesus Christ, our Lord. For his sake, we ask it. Amen.
Amen. All right. Well, welcome, friends. We are continuing on in our series of women you should
know but might not have heard of. And this morning, we will consider together a woman of consecrated pen.
That is a phrase, the woman of consecrated pen of John Newton's of the subject of our talk.
Come, let us ride to London to see bishops and booksellers. Well, the summons came from a bright
eyed little girl standing upon the lead chair in a line of them, an imaginary train for her and her
four sisters, which would conduct them from the little country school house to the great metropolis.
There they would see bishops and booksellers, attractions for the power their words pervade,
able to change the world. That little girl was Hannah Moore. And though she already had an instinct for the magic of words,
little could even she have imagined how hers would someday move the world.
In that school house that day transformed in its vacancy to a railroad station, Hannah's father was the
schoolmaster and there taught boys. Boys, not girls. For in Hannah's time and place, 18th century England,
girls were not thought fit subjects for education. At least not the academic education that boys might receive.
Mathematics and classical languages, those subjects of gravitas. If a woman managed to gain any education at all,
it was restricted to what they called the alluring and useful arts. Dancing, music, French, painting,
these things to allure prospective husbands. And perhaps embroidery, cooking and sewing to render them useful
in marriage. How sad it must have been for those who had eyes to see.
The promise in girls to leave those rich fields fallow and uncultivated. I'm sorry, I have three daughters,
so this is an emotional topic. Little wonder that some parents would not endure it and jump the conventional rails.
Hannah's mother, Mary Moore, was such a one. Seeing Hannah's precocity, she resolved when Hannah was but three or four
to teach her to read, only to discover that she had already begun on her own. She had secretly listened
to the lessons her mother had been given her older sisters through the keyhole.
Surprised also was the country parson where Hannah recited the entire catechism from memory. So impressed,
he gave her a sixpence. Her father, the schoolmaster, could not but notice Hannah's eagerness and aptitude.
But he was conflicted. Burdened by the prejudice of the day, he thought feeding her mind to be improper.
And yet, somehow in her case, irresistible. This collision produced a compromise. He would not starve her mind
altogether, but would tightly restrict her diet as a woman. Despite her rapid progress in mathematics,
he removed that subject from the table. But he did leave her Latin to hungrily devour.
It's easy to feel Hannah's plight tragic until we realize how much more privileged her portion
compared to the vast majority of girls in her day. Hannah's was a flowering in a very uncongenial soil.
Being neither of the laboring nor of the aristocratic class, the only acceptable profession open to a woman
was that of teaching. And Hannah and her four sisters were put on that trajectory.
That it was for Hannah the perfect choice, none had any doubt.
She had completed her first poem when only four. And already there she is. Again, I'll pop this back.
There she is handing her poem that she's just written up to her parents.
And this poem she wrote at four years old reflected a keen observation of humanity
and wonderfully witty facility with words.
It would seem a writer had been born and was rapacious for nourishment.
The leading item on every birthday and Christmas wish list for Hannah was paper.
More paper.
Every vacant bit of any scrap she could find,
she filled with words.
She filled with words, prose, poetry, narrative,
often conveying some moral lesson.
Though in her later life,
Hannah would speak with fondness of her childhood,
her descriptions of early family life
seem at variance with reality
and reflected perhaps more of a story she wished to tell
herself and others.
She didn't seem emotionally close to her parents.
Indeed, did not come to either of their deathbeds.
A sense of fatherly affection,
sadly, as for so many in her day,
perhaps even in ours,
would come only from her heavenly father.
But in that heavenly father's kind providence,
what Hannah seemed to have lacked in parental affection
was amply made up for among her sisters,
with whom so much of her great adventure of life would be shared.
The first adventure this sisterhood embarked upon
was a school.
The Moore School for Young Ladies.
Theirs was a day of ready clientele.
As Bristol, shown here in the slide,
their school's location,
was a prosperous port
whose new wealth,
much of which came through the slave trade,
we'll find out later,
whose new wealth was creating upward social mobility.
And not a few of the newly rich
wanted to turn their wives and daughters
into leisured ladies
in imitation of the higher classes.
Sensitive to this demand,
the Moore sisters designed a hybrid education.
Yes, supplying the fashionable dancing,
needlework and music,
but also progressive,
singularly so,
instructing the young women in reading
and writing and mathematics even.
Hannah was first a fellow student,
but soon became an instructor.
And even a thoughtful theorist,
educational theorist,
pressing in essays for an education for women
which aimed at cultivating the understanding.
What a thought.
Not merely for ornamentation.
The Moore School did marvelously well
and became quite far-famed.
Always full at 60 students and a waiting list.
By 1789,
the sisters would make enough money to retire
after 30 years of the operation for the school.
There is Hannah about that time.
And not only did the school enjoy renown,
but Hannah herself would
through the productions of her pen.
But before we turn to the dramas
of her own composition,
we must mention a strange drama
in her experience.
A romantic drama, I suppose,
for a country gentleman
of ample resource
named William Turner,
much admired her ready wit
and much enjoyed her company.
He gave her a room
on his own very ample estate
in which to write
and gardens in which she might
refresh her soul,
which she lapped up avidly.
When an offer of marriage came from him,
she accepted.
None were surprised.
Surprising, rather,
was that Turner
inexplicably
broke the engagement
right at the altar.
But only to renew the offer
a little later.
Over several agonizing years,
this marriage offer
was extended,
withdrawn,
then renewed.
not once,
even twice,
but three times.
The grievous emotional ordeal
took a heavy,
heavy toll upon Hannah's health,
which Turner himself recognized
with great dismay,
offering her 200 pounds a year
in small compensation
for his indecisiveness
and stealing away
her youthful years.
They actually remained friends
all their days,
and he would leave her
a thousand pounds
in his will.
For all the romantic pain,
this arrangement
did provide for Hannah
to pursue a literary career
without financial encumbrance.
So that was a good
that came of it.
And this she did,
taking up pen and writing.
Her literary career
began in earnest
with the tragic drama
Percy,
which not only made it
to the London Theatre,
but there met with
great enthusiasm.
There we are.
The thunderous applause
on opening night
turned into the punned chant,
More!
And more,
more was quite able
to give her London audience.
Her pen moved
as if inspired.
Indeed,
David Garrick,
the most celebrated
actor
of the London stage,
nicknamed Hannah Nine,
by which he hailed her
as the embodiment
of all of the muses.
You remember,
there were nine
classical muses,
and he just called her Nine
because she was so
profusely gifted.
Samuel Johnson,
oh,
here we are.
There is a picture
of the nine muses.
It sits,
I believe,
in the London Art Gallery,
and the one
on the far right
here
is actually
Hannah Moore.
So this,
they were depicting
the most influential
and extraordinarily literary
women of the day,
and Hannah
made the cut
and was painted.
these,
many of them
were the famous
blue stockings,
a literary group
of women
who would come together
and discuss
all manner
of intellectual things
in their own
wonderfully gracious
and winsome
and scintillating ways.
So,
a wonderful
piquant group
of which Hannah
was a part,
the blue stockings.
But that's another story,
a good one,
but we might tell it later.
So,
Samuel Johnson,
there he is,
Samuel Johnson,
the most celebrated
of public intellectuals
of his day,
arbiter of literary taste,
and the single-handed author
of the English Dictionary.
He found Hannah's work
absolutely top shelf.
Once at a literary soiree,
the topic of poetry
came up,
and Johnson
immediately warned
the circle
to speak with care
in her presence.
It is dangerous
to say a word of poetry
before her.
It is his talking
of the art of war
before Hannibal,
remember the great
Carthaginian general
in the Punic Wars.
But,
of all Hannah
found in London,
the most determinative,
more than popular applause
or famous friends,
was an encounter
with an old pastor
at St. Mary's Woolnath.
Hannah was,
at this time,
for all the acclaim
and success,
seeking something
more substantial
and enduring.
One of her
blue-stocking circle
had given her
a volume of letters
of spiritual direction
called
Cardifonia,
or we might translate it
utterances
of the heart.
And Hannah
found in them
something,
there it is,
Hannah found in them
something new
to her spiritual senses,
something vital
and experimental,
as she described it.
The word experimental
in that day
is,
we would use
the word experiential,
rather as relating
to her experience,
a deep experience.
We'd say real Christianity.
Experimental,
vital and experimental.
Or as she would
elsewhere describe it,
religion of the heart.
Who was this author?
Hannah resolved
to find him
and find
what it was
that he wrote of.
The author
was that,
the author
of that
most blessed
volume
was none other
than the
utterly transformed
Wylam
slave captain
and author
of that
beloved hymn,
Amazing Grace,
John Newton.
There he is,
just a tad,
well,
yeah,
there he is.
I love
that picture
of Newton.
There are many
and that's
one of my favorites.
Well,
so John Newton,
the author
of Cardifonia.
Upon this discovery,
Hannah beat
an immediate path
to his church.
Today,
I have been
to hear
good Mr. Newton
preach,
she tells,
and afterward,
went and sat
an hour with him
and came home
with two pockets
full of sermons.
Well,
through this
ever-deepening
friendship
with Newton,
Hannah came
to know
for herself,
experimentally,
this religion
of the heart
and her newfound
evangelical faith
changed the course
of her life.
We love Newton
at home
and he's got
his book
of spiritual letters.
This is my,
Anita couldn't be here
this morning,
she's not feeling
well,
but she asked me
to put this up.
This is one of her
favorite quotes
from John Newton.
Perhaps you've heard it.
I am not the man
I ought to be,
I'm not the man
I wish to be,
and I'm not the man
I hope to be,
but by the grace
of God,
I am not the man
I used to be.
Ah,
isn't that wonderful?
It is certainly
something we could
all affirm
who know
the gospel
in our hearts
experimentally.
Newton was also
the inspiration
of a circle
of evangelical,
social,
and political
activists.
William Wilberforce,
there he is,
I love this,
this is my favorite
picture of Wilberforce,
his eyes just are
so wonderfully kind.
Wilberforce,
most prominent
among this group,
known as the Clapham sect,
not a sect,
just a group
of evangelical Anglicans
of that day.
And Hannah became
active in that circle.
Through the lenses
of her newfound
and growing faith,
the glittering
allure
of London's
fashionable life
was quickly
fading for Hannah.
Even its
grandeur
seemed to her
a littleness,
as she called it.
And she was
inclined
to withdraw
from it
into a spiritual
retirement
in the country.
It was her new
friend,
Wilberforce,
who challenged
her,
repeating
the very
advice
John Newton
had earlier
given to him
when upon
his,
Wilberforce's,
newfound faith,
he,
Wilberforce,
had been
inclined to do
the same,
withdraw into
kind of a
spiritual
solitude,
maybe become
a minister.
And John Newton
told Wilberforce,
the young Wilberforce,
no,
don't retire
your gifts.
Deploy them
for some
gospel-inspired
good
in this world.
And Wilberforce
then
repeated
Newton's
advice
to Hannah.
And just
as
Newton
had not
lacked for
a suggestion
as to where
Wilberforce
might put
in his
oar,
Wilberforce
was happy
to put
Hannah's
pen
to good
in the
same cause.
And soon,
that is the
slavery issue,
and soon
it was
discovered
that her
gifts
were
perfectly
suited
to the
need of
the day,
which was
to reach
the hearts
of the
British people
and stir
their moral
imagination.
To this,
Hannah was
perfectly
attuned
from her
skill
as an
accomplished
dramatist.
That,
indeed,
had been her
standard of
success,
moving the
heart.
A tear
shed
is worth
a thousand
clapping hands,
she would
say.
And with
that aim,
she composed
the poem
slavery,
1788,
a time
to appear
just before
Wilberforce
was to
present a
resolution
in parliament.
For as
Wilberforce
had quickly
discerned,
in parliamentary
measures of
importance,
more is to
be done
out of the
House of
Lords
Commons,
than in
it.
See,
he understood
how critical
it was
for popular
agitation
to influence
the lawmakers
in parliament.
Nothing's
changing.
They would
have to
change
hearts
before they
could hope
to change
laws.
Well,
here are
a few
lines of
Hannah's
poem.
When
e'er to
Afric
shores
I turn
my eyes,
horrors
of deepest,
deadliest
guilt arise.
I see
by more
than fancy's
mirror shown
the burning
village
and the
blazing
town.
See
the dire
victim
torn from
social life,
the
shrieking
babe,
the
agonizing
wife.
She,
wretch
forlorn,
is dragged
by hostile
hands to
distant
tyrants
sold in
distant
lands.
Transmitted
miseries and
successive
chains,
e'en this
last wretched
boon their
foes deny
to weep
together or
together die.
By
felon hands,
by one
relentless
stroke,
she,
the fond
links of
nature
broke,
see,
the fond
links of
nature
broke,
the fibers
twisting
round a
parent's
heart,
torn from
their grasp
and bleeding
as they
part.
Another
friend
of
abolition,
the
celebrated
poet
William
Cooper,
the
poet,
also a
great
hymn
writer,
thought
Hannah's
poem so
good,
he dropped
his design
to write
one himself
in the
cause.
That was
just a
little tiny
piece of it.
It's an
incredibly long
poem.
Hannah also
discovered a
marvelous gift
for composing
simple but
engaging
stories,
written for
the laboring
classes,
full of
dramatic
pictures,
and made
affordable for
the humblest
cottage dweller
at only
pennies a
piece.
And so
they rolled
from her
pen,
and into
hands,
ready hands,
Babay,
a true story
of a good
Negro woman,
then the
black,
prince,
a true
story of
the life
and death
of Nyambana,
an African
king's son,
the sorrows
of Yamba,
or the
Negro woman's
lamentation,
and more
and more.
And you'll
see on the
bottom,
sold for a
penny,
just one
penny,
and so
affordable.
Hannah also
led a
boycott of
West Indian
sugar,
no small
sacrifice for
a tea-drinking
nation that
loved their
sweets.
As she
satirically
poked,
this is one
of my favorite
pictures of
Hannah.
You can just
kind of see
the little
kind of
smirky smile
there.
So this
diddy aimed
at those
who love
their sweets.
I own,
I am
shocked at
this purchase
of slaves,
and fear
those who
buy them
and sell
them are
knaves.
What I
hear of
their hardships,
their tortures
and groans,
is almost
enough to
draw pity
from stones.
I pity
them greatly,
but I
must be
mum,
for how
could we
do without
sugar and
rum?
Especially
sugar, so
needful we
see.
What?
Give up
our desserts,
our coffee,
and tea?
When the
emancipation
bill finally
passed in
the House
of Commons,
1833,
it was a
hard-won
victory,
which could
never have
been attained
apart from
the dedicated
pen of
Hannah Moore
in ceaseless
motion.
Really,
we've all
heard of
Wilberforce,
but not
quite as
many have
heard of
Hannah Moore,
and her
part was
equally
pivotal,
doubtless,
equally
pivotal.
For many
years,
Anglican
missionaries
had a
policy of
naming
orphaned
African
girls
after
Hannah
in honor
of her
labors
in the
cause of
abolition.
Still a
very common
name in
many parts
of Africa.
Well,
though
Hannah did
not retire
from active
life,
she did
retire to
the country
and made
her home
in a little
cottage
called
Cow's
Lip
Green
or Cow's
Lip
Green.
There it
is,
delightful
little
cottage
as it
still
survives
today.
It was
here her
good friend
Wilberforce
and Wilberforce's
sister came to
visit.
The lovely
countryside might
restore
Wilberforce's
weary frame
and sent
him walking
through the
beautiful
Cheddar
Gorge
nearby.
But upon
his return,
Wilberforce
was more
agonized
than refreshed,
for he had
observed with
disbelief and
horror how
squalidly and
religionless the
common folk in
that region
existed.
Apparently,
there was no
resident minister
in the area
to relieve the
ignorance and
suffering.
Something must
be done,
said Wilberforce
to Hannah,
and if you
will be at the
trouble,
I will be at
the expense.
Well,
the fruit of
this alliance
was the
opening of
a Sunday
school in
Cheddar.
There's an
old,
old postcard
of that
first little
Sunday
school.
And by
Sunday
school,
originally,
Sunday
school meant
not exclusively
religious
instruction,
but general
instruction held
on Sunday,
the only day
available for
the laboring
classes.
So it was
the whole
gamut of
subjects,
but on a
Sunday,
started by
Christians.
Well,
Hannah put
her heart
into the
mission.
She acquired
a building,
there it is,
and hired a
teacher,
and with
her sister
Patty,
canvassed
cottage to
cottage in
the village
to collect
the grimy
faced urchins
that were
abundantly
present.
The labor
intensive
cottage to
cottage
solicitation
paid off,
for upon
the school's
opening,
130 were
in their
seats.
Though
the need
was enormous,
it had
been largely
overlooked
until
Wilberforce
and Hannah,
as Moore
wrote to
Newton,
while we're
sending
missionaries
to our
distant
colonies,
our own
villages
are perishing
for lack
of instruction.
instruction
consisted
in reading,
basic
arithmetic,
and Bible,
along with
some practical
skills to
make the
students more
employable upon
their graduation,
such as
knitting and
spinning.
Hannah would
even interview
local
manufacturers to
see what
skills were
needed and
seek to
provide for
them in
the curriculum
that was
offered.
With
Hannah's
diligence
and
persuasiveness
and the
evident
results,
enrollment
in the
Cheddar
School
rapidly
grew to
300.
How they
fit 300
little urchins
into that
building,
I don't
know.
And by
1796,
a mere
seven years
after
Wilberforce's
anguished
walk that
had inspired
this exploit,
Hannah had
1,700
students in
schools across
10 parishes.
Isn't that
marvelous?
It's
fantastic.
Hannah then
expanded the
operation to
reach the
parents,
inviting them
in Sunday
evenings where
a sermon and
a chapter of
the Bible were
read, followed
by a hymn and
a prayer.
Well, only
four parents
showed up the
first week,
but soon
60 crowded
the school.
And by
this very
uncommon for
the day
involvement
with common
folk,
Hannah began
to understand
more of the
challenges many
of the poor
families faced
and was able
to forge
creative means
of alleviating
them.
It's amazing
when you
actually mingle
with the
needy,
you begin to
understand the
needs.
So, she
established
friendly societies
as they came
to be called
for women
which served
like an
insurance
collective
where members
paid small
dues and
from these
would receive
in circumstances
of illness
or injury
a set payment
to preserve
them from
subsistence
crises that
they might
have along
the way.
It was a
world of
good
Hannah managed
to do
in the lives
of the most
vulnerable.
But,
the work
was not
unopposed.
Think,
well, who
could oppose
a work like
that?
Well,
as Moore
wrote to
Newton,
one great
benefit which
I have found
to result
from our
projects
is the
removal,
and this
is going
to be the
problem,
is the
removal of
that great
gulf which
has divided
the rich
from the
poor in
these country
parishes
by making
them meet
together,
whereas before
they hardly
thought they
were children
of one
common
father.
more.
But such
mingling of
the classes
was thought
by not a
few to be
dangerously
radical,
and Moore
was bitterly
and damningly
denounced as
such,
a dangerous
radical.
And aggravating
the animus
against her,
the teacher
in her
Blagden
school,
another one
of the poor
schools that
she had
established,
was accused
of methodistical
practices.
It seemed
that the
school teacher
in the
Blagden
school had
offered an
extemporaneous
prayer before
a snack,
a meal.
That is,
by extemporaneous
prayer,
that is a
prayer that
was not read
out of the
Anglican
Book of
Common Prayer.
These things
were highly
regulated within
the Anglicanism
of that day.
so virulent
was the
public attack
upon Hannah
for this
instance,
that three
years of
her life
were absorbed
in defending
herself and
this project
of schools,
poor schools,
in the
vicious
controversy
that this
one prayer
precipitated.
even her
sisters were
dragged into
the slander.
Flyers were
publicly and
prominently
posted,
pointing
passers-by in
her village to
where they could
see, quote,
the menagerie of
five female
savages of the
most desperate
kind.
Well, as
thick-skinned as
Hannah was,
these cruel
attacks were a
grievous
cudgelling,
and she
probably never
fully recovered
from the
physical and
mental toll.
Reluctantly,
she closed the
Blagden
school,
lamenting the,
quote,
wantonness of
cruelty,
which,
in civilized
places,
few persons,
especially of my
sex,
have been called
to suffer.
She was
horrified,
but exhausted,
absolutely
eviscerated.
Not
withstanding,
Hannah
continued to
work with her
Sunday schools
for the
remainder of
her life.
She had
just closed
the one
school.
30 more
years she
worked with
these poor
schools,
and they
became,
subsequently,
the basis
of the
national public
schools in
place across
all England
today.
That goes
back to
Hannah Moore.
Thanks,
in large
measure,
to Hannah's
vision and
dedication,
by 1850,
three-quarters
of the
laboring
class's
children,
between
ages five
and 15,
were enrolled
in Sunday
schools.
Isn't that
astonishing?
Three-quarters
of all the
laboring
class children
in England,
between five
and 15,
were in
Sunday
schools.
It's truly
remarkable.
Progressive
as Hannah
was in
her promotion
of schooling
for the
poor and
women,
children.
It's no
small irony
that she
was widely
denounced as
dangerously
revolutionary,
for her
politics were
actually very
conservative.
While
English urchins
were learning
their letters
in more
schools,
a revolution
was brewing
across the
channel.
Oh,
there's another
one of her
poor schools.
How old
was she
at this
time?
Let me
see.
She would
have been
40s,
I think.
Between 40
and 50
at this
time?
Yeah.
So,
over
across in
France.
And,
however
noble the
ideals of
liberty,
equality,
and fraternity,
when hoarsely
shouted by a
bloodthirsty,
murderous
Parisian mob,
Hannah would
have nothing
of it.
As she wrote
exasperatedly
in 1793,
from liberty,
equality,
and the
rights of
man,
good Lord,
deliver us.
She's thinking
of those
episodes across
France.
It was a
heady time
for political
ideas and
experiments,
experiments like
our own
nascent
nation,
and England
was awash
in a sea
of political
pamphlets,
cheaply printed
and easily
distributed.
One
particularly
incendiary
with new
ideas was
Tom Paine's
The Rights
of Man.
There he
is and
there it
is,
in which
he argued
for people's
right to
revolt and
so free
themselves from
their oppressive
conditions.
A pamphlet
that was
actually quite
significant in
the founding
of our
nation
early on.
religion was
often supportive
of the
political
hierarchy,
it too
came into
Paine's
crosshairs.
And so
the specter
of atheism
was raised
alongside that
of revolution
and the
anarchy which
it was thought
would assuredly
be brought
by any
revolution.
The second
part of
Paine's
Rights of
Man was
printed cheaply
enough to
gain a wide
readership among
the working
classes and
many an
English
aristocrat
shook with
terror at
its impact.
What could
be done to
preserve England
against bloody
revolution horrifically
showcased in
France?
Well, the
counterstroke came
from a little
cottage,
Hannah
Moores.
Well, Edmund
Burke engaged
in a literary
duel with
Paine in
polished and
ponderous
prose and
of the
conservative
flagship in
all of its
weighty
majesty.
Hannah knew
how to take
the ideas to
Village Green
and Cobbler
Shop.
In the
perfect
vernacular
needed, she
produced her
Village
Politics.
There it
is.
The title
Village
Politics
Addressed to
All the
Mechanics,
Journeymen,
and Day
Laborers in
Great Britain
by Will
Chip, a
country
carpenter.
This came
out in
1792.
In an
extended
dialogue
between the
town blacksmith
Jack Anvil
and the
mason Tom
Hod,
Hannah
managed in
clear but
colorful language
to express
but then
confute the
currently
circulating
arguments for
revolutionary
politics.
The work
has been
dubbed
Burke
for
Beginners
and Horace
Walpole
judged it
quote,
infinitely
superior to
anything on
the subject,
clearer,
better stated,
and comprehending
the whole
mass of the
matter in
the shortest
of compass,
a marvel.
Moore's
pamphlet
achieved
phenomenal
circulation
due to
its singular
readability
and affordability.
Indeed,
the British
government
purchased
thousands
of copies
for free
distribution
and the
work was
translated into
French and
Italian.
One of the
appealing features
of Hannah
Moore to
me is
her
piquant
combination
of
conservative
and progressive
views.
Surely
there is
something
right
about the
conservative
instinct,
let's call
it that,
that recognizes
that we
are the
beneficiaries
of many
good things
that we
have inherited
from the
labors of
our predecessors,
which are
worth valuing
and preserving.
There ought
to be a
healthy reluctance
to thoughtlessly
burn everything
to the ground
and fashion
all anew.
As G.K.
Chesterton
observed,
if you come
across a
fence in a
seemingly odd
place,
before you
just tear it
down,
see if you
can discover
why it was
put there in
the first
place.
But,
neither did
Hannah
simply baptize
the social
order and
received customs
and institutions,
as we clearly
saw.
She could
imagine
something
better.
And this,
we might call
the progressive
instinct.
And surely
it is also
right and
healthy.
Can we
not imagine
an improvement
to our
present and
take concrete
steps toward
it?
Well,
Hannah certainly
thought so.
in 1799,
there she
is,
Hannah wrote
a plea,
an outline
for the
education of
women,
very
progressively.
The fashion
of the day
for women
and girls
too,
was to
emphasize
beauty
and the
ornament
that
accompanied
it.
Little
girls
were
slotted
into this
convention
as early
as four
years old
with what
were called
baby
balls.
As more
fiercely
penned,
they step,
speaking of
these little
ones,
they step
at once
from the
nursery
to the
ballroom
and,
by a
change of
habits
as new
as it
is
preposterous,
are thinking
of dressing
themselves
at an
age
when they
used to
be dressing
their
dolls.
Instead
of bounding
with the
unrestrained
freedom of
little wood
nymphs over
hill and
dale,
their cheeks
flushed with
health and
their hearts
overflowing
with happiness,
these gay
little creatures
are shut up
all the
morning,
demurely
practicing
the pagrav
and
transacting
the serious
business of
acquiring a
new dance
step for
the evening,
with more
cost of
time and
pains than
it would
have taken
them to
acquire
twenty new
ideas.
Thus,
they lose
the amusements
which properly
belong to
their smiling
period.
Neither
did such
leave
women any
less empty
in older
age.
When beauty
is all that
is expected
of a woman,
what is she
left with
in its
absence?
It is a
most severe
trial,
writes Moore,
for those
women to be
called to
lay down
beauty who
have nothing
else to
take up.
It is for
this sober
season of
life,
that education
should lay
up its
rich
resources.
It was
now this
season for
Hannah,
and happily,
she was
surrounded by
riches within
and without.
She moved to
a new country
cottage,
Barleywood.
There it is.
Isn't it
lovely?
It still
stands today.
It's a more
recent picture,
and was
joined by
her sisters,
reunited
again as
they were
in their
first venture
of a
women's
school.
Here the
five sisters
were seldom
alone as
visitors were
constantly
descending upon
them, once
as many as
80 in a
single week.
Barleywood
Cottage was
described as
the favored
seat of
intellectual and
religious
sunshine, a
veritable
evangelical
center.
Here's such
a lovely
cottage.
There's the
back of it,
where there's
another view
of it.
Here,
Hannah spent
her last
years in
the happy
company of
her sisters.
Their
retirement
seems not
entirely
leisured.
They took
in the
child of a
widowed
servant,
and then
two orphans
and continued
their compassionate
involvement in
the lives of
the children
in their
poor schools.
And she
continued to
write,
indeed,
11 books
after the
age of 60.
There's some
of her private
devotions that
she wrote,
quite wonderful,
and also
continued to
write sacred
dramas,
too.
Hannah would
outlive all
her sisters,
including
Patty,
her dearest
earthly friend,
who, she
said, was
her very
hands,
eyes,
and ears.
So attentively
and affectionately
did she attend
her beloved
older sister,
always the
eager party
to her
benevolent
schemes.
dreams.
But finally,
she was all
alone.
There she
is in her
winter years.
It was
said that
prayer was
the last
thing that
lived in
her.
At the
last,
a friend
at her
bedside
reported,
her face
was smooth
and glowing.
There was
an unusual
brightness
in its
expression.
She smiled
and,
endeavoring
to raise
herself a
little from
her pillow,
she reached
out her
arms as
if catching
at something
and called
Patty.
Remember the
name of her
dearest sister.
she called
out Patty
very plainly
and exclaimed
joy.
These
were her
last words.
She was
88.
Of the
many
remarkable,
the many
things
remarkable
in Hannah
Moore,
one
particularly
striking
is her
ability
in the
task
of
translation.
She
wanted to
connect
to her
audience,
so she
made it
her study
to discover
what it
was that
captured
their
imagination.
Of the
newly literate
laboring
classes,
she asked
the question
of Philip
to the
Ethiopian,
what are
you reading?
And fully
absorbed
their answer.
reading all
the cheap
chapbooks
that hawkers
and peddlers
sold like
hotcakes
on Village
Green and
Country Lane.
I mean,
she read
everything that
came out
that was
read,
so she
would know
what they
liked.
And they
were almost
entirely
bawdy stories
or superstitious
tales.
then she
offered
them
something
in their
stead.
So this
is the
history of
Tawny
Rachel,
the fortune
teller,
Black
Giles'
wife.
Kind of
connected to
another story,
Black
Giles that
she had
told,
you know,
about a
fortune teller.
You know,
these are
the things.
So she
offered them
something in
their stead,
just as
captivating,
but
simultaneously
edifying.
She
weaned them
off their
printed junk
food with
wholesome
fare,
at once
healthier and
tastier.
We,
in our
witness,
often demand
of our
hearers that
they attend
to something
different,
what we
think is
worthwhile.
Were we
to take
a leaf
from
Hannah's
writing,
we might
ask,
how can
I relate
the good
news to
what already
has their
attention?
The taste
of Hannah's
day will
not be
those of
ours,
neither
our interests
theirs,
so as
skilled as
was Hannah
as a
translator,
it would
not do
to give
our day
Hannah
more.
No,
we must
do
a
Hannah
more
for
our
day.
As
Helmut
Tilica
observed,
the gospel
must be
told in
new ways
to each
generation.
It must
be constantly
forwarded
because the
recipient is
repeatedly
changing
their
address.
Would it
not be
a fruitful
honoring
of Hannah
Moore?
And there
she is
honored on
a British
stamp.
If we
were to
emulate her
in this,
let us
seek to
do so,
praying that
God would
second this
desire with
his enabling
grace.
All right,
team.
We
stop there.
And if
anybody,
ooh, how
are we doing
time-wise?
We need
to stop.
Oh, oh
my goodness.
We started
a little late
this time.
I so
apologize.
Well, thank
you, team.
And we
will, I
guess, we
will see
you next
week.
Lord willing.
Look forward
to it.
Yep.