Women We Should Know: Hannah More

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!

More!

More!

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,

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,

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