Barbara Wheeler was born in London in 1764, the
fourth child and first daughter of William Wheeler who, although brought up as a gentleman, did not possess ‘a fortune
fully adequate to his taste and refinement’ and found himself pushed by the needs
of a growing family to take up business and become a wine merchant.
A dancing class |
John Fothergill by American artist Gilbert Stuart |
After six years of struggling to carry on the business, Barbara's
mother also died. The business was disposed of and the family dispersed, the
three sons to foreign parts, one daughter to school and Barbara to live with
her guardian, a clergyman cousin living in Yorkshire. It was here that she met her future husband while visiting
relations in Handsworth Woodhouse, just outside Sheffield. Barbara's description of their meeting is reminiscent of a Jane Austen novel.
‘The Parish church was more than a mile from the village where my cousins resided, yet we were pretty regular in our attendance. Once on going thither we were suddenly overtaken by a thunderstorm, when about half way, near a neat mansion very beautifully situated. This place had been taken by a person from Sheffield, who was in a precarious state of health, and a Quaker. The pathway went across the field in front of the house, and we, for a minute, debated whether we should ask shelter, especially as he was a single man. The propriety of the thing was, however, soon put out of the question, as the rain began to descend in torrents, with loud claps of thunder. We ran with all possible expedition to the asylum, the door of which was opened for our reception before we reached it. Part of our finery was pretty well drenched, and took some time to put in order again. The novelty of being in the house of a Quaker, and the idea of formality which attached to the person, were soon dissipated by the easy kindness and genuine promptness to render assistance that were offered by the master of the house. We were all pleased with our visit, and after the rain abated and the sky began to clear, we returned home, it being past church time.’
‘The Parish church was more than a mile from the village where my cousins resided, yet we were pretty regular in our attendance. Once on going thither we were suddenly overtaken by a thunderstorm, when about half way, near a neat mansion very beautifully situated. This place had been taken by a person from Sheffield, who was in a precarious state of health, and a Quaker. The pathway went across the field in front of the house, and we, for a minute, debated whether we should ask shelter, especially as he was a single man. The propriety of the thing was, however, soon put out of the question, as the rain began to descend in torrents, with loud claps of thunder. We ran with all possible expedition to the asylum, the door of which was opened for our reception before we reached it. Part of our finery was pretty well drenched, and took some time to put in order again. The novelty of being in the house of a Quaker, and the idea of formality which attached to the person, were soon dissipated by the easy kindness and genuine promptness to render assistance that were offered by the master of the house. We were all pleased with our visit, and after the rain abated and the sky began to clear, we returned home, it being past church time.’
William Hoyland soon returned the visit in a more formal
manner and began to improve his acquaintance with Barbara, to the point where
marriage was proposed. Barbara’s relatives had several objections to the match,
of which their difference in religion was only one. William was also about fifteen years older than her, of a serious temperament and suffered from poor health which might mean that Barbara would be more of a nurse than a wife. Barbara
wavered, but ‘affectionate attachment’ and the renewed attentions of a former
suitor made up her mind and the couple were married by Barbara’s cousin in 1787. This
marriage before a priest led inevitably to William’s disownment from the Society of Friends which meant that he could no longer attend meetings for business.
The happy couple set up home in Woodhouse and Barbara found
herself ‘mistress of an establishment, not indeed abounding with the
embellishments of modern style or splendid convenience, but with all the
pleasure of a happy and chaste simplicity.’ They took their place in Woodhouse
village society but every Sunday the division between them in the matter of
religion made itself evident. They walked together to the bottom of their
garden and then parted, she to go to the Parish Church and he to the Meeting
House. This was, as Barbara puts it, ‘a circumstance which was always
accompanied by regret, but entirely without verbal remark on either side.’
St Mary's parish church, Handsworth Woodhouse. |
After three years, during which ‘life seemed to flow in an
easy channel’ William had to go to Sheffield for a week on business and
suggested that Barbara accompany him. She had lost two children and was
expecting a third so that her visiting would be confined to William’s relations,
whose ‘plain’ Quaker lifestyle she found rather intimidating. However, rather than stay at home alone, she chose to go with him.
When Sunday came she says, ‘I felt a little uncomfortable
in the morning, not knowing how I should get to church, but upon considering
the matter, as I had often had a curiosity to sit in a meeting of friends, I
thought if any of the family should invite me to go with them, I would do so.’
This happened and she accepted but her husband appeared uneasy and, making no
comment, immediately rode off back to the meeting in Woodhouse so that Barbara
went to Sheffield meeting without him.
The new experience was very strange to Barbara. As she put it, 'Profound silence soon reigned over a large
assembly of people, most of whom were dressed decidedly like Friends; which
appeared a pretty, or at least a novel, sight; but what were they doing?
Sitting in an almost motionless state without appearing to notice anything.
Some, whose faces I could not see, I fancied were asleep or near it. I looked
on every side, and such was the stillness and settlement, that the motion of my
head seemed to make a disturbing noise. I
tried to sit as quietly as I could, withdrew my eyes from observation, and my
thoughts involuntarily turned on my own situation and the possibility that I
might not live through my confinement and on the lot of the helpless infant if
it survived...These
considerations were, however soon succeeded by a perfect calmness, which so
much pervaded my whole mind, that I believed I could die, or bear anything that
might befall me, if it were the will of God, let it be ever so sad.’ She was moved to tears and when a Friend then prayed she
says, ‘it was all I had felt, all I had desired in silence, put into the most
striking figures of speech and was a seal of confirmation to me of spiritual
worship, indelibly fixed on my mind.’
Barbara and her husband did not speak at all of what had
happened although she felt that she had his sympathy. About two years later,
in 1792, she applied for membership of the Society, again without discussing it
with William. However, she says 'he was told by some Friend that the application had
been made, and the next time we met, he appeared very thoughtful, and I was
ready to suspect the matter had been disclosed and that it was not agreeable to
him. But on questioning him on the subject he very feelingly said, "No, my
dear, I am glad that what I have lost thou art about I hope to gain."'.
Gracechurch St Meeting House, London in 1770. Sheffield meeting house would have been similarly arranged. |
Barbara and William were now both part of the Quaker community and Barbara was recognised as a minister. Their family grew, although several of their twelve children died young. After being out of touch for some years Barbara also renewed contact with her sister and brothers including the youngest, Daniel, seven years her junior, who had been in both the navy and the army. In 1796 he wrote to Barbara asking for permission in visit her but made no formal arrangement.
However one evening there was a knock at the door and 'a military figure presented itself, wrapped in a long cloak.
He hastily enquired if Mr H. was at home. With too much perturbation to answer
the question, I replied by asking what he wanted with him. “Oh. Mrs H. will do
for me,” he said, in a more softened tone of voice, and entering with a light
step into the parlour, he looked alternately at us, then, bowing, greeted my
husband familiarly, who rose at the salutation and expressed his want of
knowledge of the person; but by a steady look towards him, I caught one
remembered glance of the dear orphan Daniel. The name passed my lips on the
moment of recognition, and he threw his arms about my neck.The youth of fourteen was so lost in the man of twenty-four, characterised
with the toute ensemble of the soldier, that scarcely any trace remained but
the quickness and brilliancy of his eye.'
Quaker Tapestry panel about Daniel Wheeler's adventures |
In 1797 Barbara and William moved into the centre of Sheffield where William set up an ironmongery business in partnership with his younger brother. Unfortunately his health did not improve and in 1805 he died at the age of 55. A few years later Barbara moved with her family to Bradford, another thriving Quaker community, and was active as a minister both locally and farther afield. She held numerous
public meetings, for example, in Leeds in 1822, in Knaresborough and Thirsk Monthly Meetings in 1825 and in Halifax in 1827. She also travelled to Devon and Cornwall with a younger minister, Benjamin Seebohm, in 1824.
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Towards the end of her life Barbara wrote an account of her spiritual journey mainly for her family. The manuscript (together with a transcript) is in Friends House Library, London and I have quoted from it extensively in this post. Barbara died in Bradford in 1829 at the age of 65 and was buried in the Quaker burial ground there. In 1855 the burial ground was closed by the town council and the bodies, including Barbara's, removed to the new Undercliffe cemetery overlooking the town.Quaker graves inUndercliffe cemetery, Bradford |
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