Historians of the early modern and modern periods have for some time noticed the seemingly odd juxtaposition, illustrated frequently in the eighteenth century, of reasonableness and superstition. The Age of Reason, itself a designation that privileges high intellectual history, yields up new insights when the historian of popular culture is permitted to notice elements of the irrational, the emotional, the supernatural, and the magical among the beliefs and behaviors of many (and not just unlettered village and country folk). Such disparate elements are amply represented in the next batch of correspondence.
On the side of the reasonableness so prized by eighteenth-century intellectuals, we offer Susanna Wesley’s letter to the neighboring clergyman, Joseph Hoole, vicar of Haxey. She engages him in an interchange on John Locke’s An Essay concerning Human Understanding, presenting a fairly sophisticated analysis of “power” and “person” in Locke’s philosophy. As may be seen throughout her writing, an active intellect wrestled with difficult issues, whether biblical revelation, natural religion, ethics, or current topics in philosophy. Clearly, she and her husband discussed such issues in the rectory, but this letter indicates that she also looked beyond her home for intellectual companionship. As in the disputes with her husband, so in this instance of debate outside her home: though she defers to authority (in this case Locke and Hoole), she does not shy away from arguing with it.
Hoole also figures in one of Epworth’s more notorious examples of the less rational side of the eighteenth-century worldview. As “an eminently pious and sensible man,”1 he was called in to corroborate the family’s own experience of a supposed poltergeist in December 1716 and January 1717. The details of the various knockings and other unexplained noises were written down to satisfy the curiosity of the two older sons, Samuel, by then a schoolmaster in Westminster, and John, a scholar at the Charterhouse School in London. Jeffrey, as the Wesley girls dubbed the raucous spirit, was variously interpreted. John supposed, for instance, that it was the rector’s vow in the 1702 dispute with Susanna come back, literally, to haunt him.2
In any case, by the end of the century the “disturbances” had piqued the interest of the public. John Wesley, unwilling to give up any evidence of the supernatural, published his analysis in the Arminian Magazine, and Joseph Priestley, Unitarian minister, chemist and materialist, printed many of the original documents, by way of tainting Methodism’s credulity and “enthusiasm.”
Susanna, along with other members of the family, played the part of experimentalist and believer. In the 12 January 1716/17 letter, initially skeptical, she quickly jumped to the conclusion that the preternatural noises portended someone’s death (her husband, her eldest son, or her brother). In the subsequent one (25 or 27 January), as in the account she dictated to her son John ten years later, she carefully details the facts of the case in good Lockean fashion as she experienced them. The paradox of the age is well represented in her writing on the subject: crediting and arguing from sense experience (her own and that of trustworthy witnesses), while simultaneously accepting a realm of meaning beyond the ken of a crass materialism.
To Rev. Joseph Hoole
12 October 1716
MA, copy, not in Susanna Wesley’s hand. Endorsement in another hand: “Sent copy of the above to Mr. Wesley, Sth Octr 79.” An additional endorsement reads, “For Sophia.”
Fry. Oct 12th 1716
Revd. Sir!
Permit me to interrupt your better thoughts a few minutes while you read this, which I send humbly to entreat you’d be pleased to recollect the argument we were discoursing t’other day concerning Mr. Locke’s notion of personal identity, since I cannot upon second thoughts entirely agree with you any more than I can with him, your notion seeming to me attended by as ill, if not the same, consequences as his.
Mr. Locke supposes personal identity consists in self-consciousness.3 You are pleased to define it rather, a capacity of self-consciousness.
Now with great deference and submission to two superior minds, I think neither of these notions comes fully up to the matter under debate.
When we apply the word capacity to immaterial substances, I humbly conceive it signifies (and indeed it is but another word for) power. So the difference between Mr. Locke and you lies only here: you would place identity in the power itself, he in the act or operation of that power. To both [of] which I reply: Power is always a relative term and does necessarily suppose some being that hath or sustains or to whom that power belongs or in whom it is placed. For of power abstracted from all relation we can have no idea. Now as vegetables and animals to whom we ascribe such qualities or accidents as extension, form, colour and whom we can know no otherwise than by those qualities or accidents (for their substances come not within the verge of our senses), we do yet notwithstanding all allow that there must be a substratum to support those accidents, since they cannot otherwise subsist. So to spiritual immaterial beings in whom we plainly perceive the capacities or powers of reason, volition, judging, etc. there must likewise be granted some substratum (if I may so express it) to sustain those capacities or powers or properties, call ’em as you please. And this something, whatever it is, must have a real being, for nonentity hath no power, and what hath no power cannot act. Now though we may possibly attain some perception of this something by its proper ties and by defining what it is not; yet by what certain marks or signs its identity may be known and plainly distinguished from all other beings endued with like powers, I cannot conceive. I grant indeed that I can see no way whereby we can discern our personal identity but [by] self-consciousness, which infers capacity. But may not God or any other superior mind by some marks or signs unknown to us distinguish each individual spirit from its brother spirit and discern their identity as clearly and certainly by such marks or signs, as we know and distinguish the various kinds of plants and animals by their specific forms and qualities though they are all made of the same matter? I see no absurdity in this supposition, but I submit that and all I have said to your better judgement and humbly beg you would favour me with your thoughts on this subject, either by letter or as you think fit.
You may please to observe that I go upon a supposition that Mr. Locke’s explanation of the word person is good, though at the same time I doubt4 it is very defective, but since we did not dispute it then, I will not now. ’Tis sufficient for my present purpose to say that, though we should grant that the word person signifies no more than an immaterial thinking being that hath reason, reflection etc. as Mr. Locke defines it, yet still in this sense of the word I humbly conceive its identity cannot consist in selfconsciousness.5
You know Mr, Locke, to be sure, better than I do and can remember the consequences of his hypothesis. Therefore, I shall only desire you would please to compare his notions and yours together and then see whether the same consequences do not belong to both. I hope you’ll pardon this trouble, and I take the liberty of professing myself with much sincerity,
Revd Sir,
Yr obliged Frd & mo. obt Servt
Susanna Wesley
I humbly desire you’d please to favor me once more with a sight [of] the last volume of Clarendon’s History, if you have it by you.6
Our humble service attends Mrs. Smith.
I doubt7 Mr. Locke leaves out the word immaterial in his definition of person. But my master has taken him from me.8 I desire you’d please to see whether he has or not.
12 January 1716/17
Priestley, pp. 119–122, working from a MS of Samuel Wesley Jr.’s.
January 12, 1716–7
Dear Sam,
This evening we were agreeably surprised with your pacquet, which brought the welcome news of your being alive, after we had been in the greatest panic imaginable, almost a month, thinking either you was dead, or one of your brothers by some misfortune been killed.
The reason of our fears is as follows. On the first of December our maid heard at the door of the dining room several dismal groans, like a person in extremes at the point of death. We gave little heed to her relation and endeavoured to laugh her out of her fears. Some nights (two or three) after, several of the family heard a strange knocking in divers places, usually three or four knocks at a time, and then stayed a little. This continued every night for a fortnight; sometimes it was in the garret, but most commonly in the nursery or green chamber. We all heard it but your father, and I was not willing he should be informed of it, lest he should fancy it was against his own death, which, indeed, we all apprehended. But when it began to be so troublesome both day and night that few or none of the family durst be alone, I resolved to tell him of it, being minded he should speak to it. At first he would not believe but [said] somebody did it to alarm us; but the night after, as soon as he was in bed, it knocked loudly nine times, just by his bedside. He rose and went to see if he could find out what it was, but could see nothing. Afterwards he heard it as the rest.
One night it made such a noise in the room over our heads as if several people were walking, then run up and down stairs, and was so outrageous that we thought the children would be frighted; so your father and I rose, and went down in the dark to light a candle. Just as we came to the bottom of the broad stairs, having hold of each other, on my side there seemed as if somebody had emptied a bag of money at my feet; and on his, as if all the bottles under the stairs (which were many) had been dashed in a thousand pieces. We passed through the hall into the kitchen, and got a candle, and went to see the children, whom we found asleep.
The next night your father would get Mr. Hoole to lie at our house, and we all sat together till one or two o’clock in the morning and heard the knocking as usual. Sometimes it would make a noise like the winding up of a jack, at other times, as that night Mr. Hoole was with us, like a carpenter plaining deals;9 but most commonly it knocked thrice and stopped, and then thrice again, and so many hours together. We persuaded your father to speak, and try if any voice would be heard. One night about six o’clock he went into the nursery in the dark and at first heard several deep groans, then knocking. He adjured it to speak if it had power and tell him why it troubled his house, but no voice was heard, but it knocked thrice aloud. Then he questioned it if it were Sammy and bid it, if it were and could not speak, knock again, but it knocked no more that night, which made us hope it was not against your death.
Thus it continued till the 28 th of December, when it loudly knocked (as your father used to do at the gate) in the nursery and departed. We have various conjectures what this may mean. For my own part I fear nothing now you are safe at London hitherto, and I hope God will still preserve you. Though some times I am inclined to think my brother is dead. Let me know your thoughts on it.
To Samuel Wesley Jr.
25 or 27 January 1716/17
Priestley, pp. 125–127.
Jan. 25, or 27,10 1716–7
Dear Sam,
Though I am not one of those that will believe nothing supernatural, but am rather inclined to think there would be frequent intercourse between good spirits and us, did not our deep lapse into sensuality prevent it; yet I was a great while e’er I could credit anything of what the children and servants reported concerning the noises they heard in several parts of our house. Nay, after I had heard myself, I was willing to persuade myself and them that it was only rats or weasels that disturbed us; and having been formerly troubled with rats, which were frighted away by sounding a horn, I caused a horn to be procured and made them blow it all over the house. But from the night they began to blow, the noises were more loud and distinct both day and night than before, and that night we rose and went down, I was entirely convinced that it was beyond the power of any human creature to make such strange and various noises.
As to your questions, I will answer them particularly, but withal I desire my answers may satisfy none but yourself; for I would not have the matter imparted to any. We had both man and maid new this last Martinmas, yet I do not believe either of them occasioned the disturbance, both for the reason above mentioned and because they were more affrighted than anybody else. Besides, we have often heard the noises when they were in the room by us; and the maid particularly was in such a panic that she was almost incapable of all business, nor durst ever go from one room to another or stay by herself a minute after it began to be dark.
The man, Robert Brown, whom you well know, was most visited by it lying in the garret and has been often frighted down bare foot and almost naked, not daring to stay alone to put on his clothes; nor do I think, if he had power, he would be guilty of such villainy. When the walking was heard in the garret, Robert was in bed in the next room in a sleep so sound that he never heard your father and me walk up and down, though we walked not softly, I am sure. All the family has heard it together in the same room at the same time, particularly at family prayers. It always seemed to all present in the same place at the same time, though often before any could say it is here, it would remove to another place.
All the family, as well as Robin, were asleep when your father and I went down stairs, nor did they -wake in the nursery when we held the candle close by them; only we observed that Hetty trembled exceedingly in her sleep, as she always did, before the noise awaked her. It commonly was nearer her than the rest, which she took notice of, and was much frightened because she thought it had a particular spite11 at her. I could multiply particular instances, but I forbear. I believe your father will write to you about it shortly. Whatever may be the design of providence in permitting these things, I cannot say. Secret things belong to God;12 but I entirely agree with you, that it is our wisdom and duty to prepare seriously for all events.
S. Wesley
To Samuel Wesley Jr.
27 March 1717
Priestley, p. 140 (extract).
March 27, 1717
I cannot imagine how you should be so curious about our unwelcome guest. For my part, I am quite tired with hearing or speaking of it; but if you come among us, you will find enough to satisfy all your scruples and perhaps may hear or see it yourself.
S. Wesley
Addendum: Susanna Wesley’s Account of the Rectory Poltergiest
“My Mother’s Account to Jack”
27 August 1726
Priestley, pp. 152–155. This narrative eventually found its way into Samuel Wesley Jr.’s collection of papers and thence to Priestley, who published it along with the various other letters on the subject. It is, however, not a letter but the record of a conversation, taken down ten years after the events by John Wesley.13
Aug. 27, 1726
About ten days after Nanny Marshall had heard unusual groans at the dining room door, Emily came and told me that the servants and children had been several times frighted with strange groans and knockings about the house. I answered that the rats John Maw had frightened from his house by blowing a horn there were come into ours and ordered that one should be sent for. Molly was much displeased at it and said if it was anything supernatural, it certainly would be very angry and more troublesome. However, the horn was blown in the garrets; and the effect was that whereas before the noises were always in the night, from this time they were heard at all hours, day and night.
Soon after, about seven in the morning, Emily came and desired me to go into the nursery, where I should be convinced they were not startled at nothing. On my coming thither, I heard a knocking at the feet and, quickly after, the head of the bed. I desired if it was a spirit, it would answer me, and knocking several times with my foot on the ground with several pauses, it repeated under the sole of my feet exactly the same number of strokes with the very same intervals. Kezzy, then six or seven years old, said, “Let it answer me too, if it can,” 14 and stamping, the same sounds were returned that she made many times successively.
Upon my looking under the bed, something ran out pretty much like a badger and seemed to run directly under Emily’s petticoats, who sat opposite to me on the other side. I went out, and one or two nights after, when we were just got to bed, I heard nine strokes, three by three, on the other side the bed, as if one had struck violently on a chest with a large stick. Mr. Wesley leapt up, called Hetty, who alone was up in the house, and searched every room in the house, but to no purpose. It continued from this time to knock and groan frequently at all hours, day and night; only I earnestly desired it might not disturb me between five and six in the evening, and there never was any noise in my room after during that time.15
At other times I have often heard it over my mantle tree, and once, coming up after dinner, a cradle seemed to be strongly rocked in my chamber. When I went in, the sound seemed to be in the nursery. When I was in the nursery, it seemed in my chamber again. One night Mr. Wesley and I were waked by someone running down the garret stairs, then down the broad stairs, then up the narrow ones, then up the garret stairs, then down again, and so the same round. The rooms trembled as it passed along, and the doors shook exceedingly, so that the clattering of the latches was very loud.
Mr. Wesley proposing to rise, I rose with him, and went down the broad stairs, hand in hand, to light a candle. Near the foot of them a large pot of money seemed to be poured out at my waist and to run jingling down my night gown to my feet. Presently after we heard the noise as of a vast stone thrown among several dozen of bottles, which lay under the stairs: but upon our looking no hurt was done. In the hall the mastiff met us, crying and striving to get between us. We returned up into the nursery, where the noise was very great. The children were all asleep, but panting, trembling, and sweating extremely.
Shortly after, on Mr. Wesley’s invitation, Mr. Hoole staid a night with us. As we were all sitting round the fire in the matted chamber, he asked whether that gentle knocking was it?16 I told him yes, and it continued the sound, which was much lower than usual. This was observable, that while we were talking loud in the same room, the noise, seemingly lower than any of our voices, was distinctly heard above them all. These were the most remarkable passages I remember, except such as were common to all the family.
1. John Wesley’s description, reprinted in Clarke, p. 143.
2. See ibid., pp. 136–167, for most of the original documents, and Maldwyn Edwards, Family Circle: A Study of the Epworth Household in Relation to John and Charles Wesley (London: Epworth, 1949), pp. 87–99, for a modern analysis. A Jacobite ghost’s timing was right: Queen Anne, the last Stuart, had died in 1714, and here was Samuel Wesley praying again for another usurper, this time the Hanoverian George I! In fact Jeffrey often made his presence felt most vociferously during the Prayer for the King’s Majesty.
3. Locke develops this idea in An Essay concerning Human Understanding, Peter H. Nidditch, ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 197S), 2.27.9 (p. 33.5): “since consciousness always accompanies thinking, and ’tis that, that makes every one to be, what he calls self; and thereby distinguishes himself from all other thinking things, in this alone consists personal Identity.”
4. Once again the archaic usage for “suspect.”
5. Locke’s definition of person (ibid., p. 33S) is “a thinking intelligent Being, that has reason and reflection, and can consider it self as it self” (my emphasis). As S. W. suspects in her postscript, he does not use the word “immaterial,” which she here attributes to him.
6. Edward Hyde Earl of Clarendon, The History of the Rebellion and Civil Wars in England … , 3 vols.(Oxford: Printed at the Theatre, 1712). If she is reading from this most recent edition of this royalist history, the last volume she requests takes up the narrative in the spring of 1648 and recounts, among other things, the execution of Charles I. The second part of the last volume (actually a sixth volume since each volume in this edition has two separately bound parts) covers the commonwealth period and, as the title page puts it, Charles II’s “blessed Restoration and Return … in the year 1660.” It is probably more than coincidence that a woman of Nonjuring principles would be mulling over these stories from this perspective, given the recent unsuccessful attempt of Bonnie Prince Charlie to reassert his family’s claim to he throne in 1715.
7. See note 4.
8. Why? Without knowing the details of the situation, we might be excused for suspecting that Samuel did not fully support his wife’s intellectual interests.
9. Planks (archaic usage).
10. The indecisive dating apparently represents Priestley’s inability to decipher the original.
11. Priestley reads: “spight.”
12. Deuteronomy 9:29, closely paraphrased. Emphasis in Priestley may be in lieu of quotation marks.
13. Frank Baker writes that this is corroborated by Wesley’s MS diary entry for that day. Private correspondence, 28 August 1988. Wesley’s “Oxford” diaries are being edited as volume 32 of the current (“bicentennial”) Works of John Wesley.
14. Quotation marks added.
15. The time for her evening devotional reading, meditating, and writing? See part II of this volume.
16. Priestley punctuates these sentences thus: “Mr. Hoole staid a night with us: as we were all sitting round the fire in the matted chamber. He asked whether… .”