Library of the Theological Seminary PRINCETON ° NEW JERSEY Gift of Professor William M. Paxton 1Q19 BX7795,F79 A35 1847 Fry, Elizabeth Gumey, 1780-1845. Memoir of the life of Elizabeth Fry, with extracts irom her journal and letters. Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2015 https://archive.org/details/memoiroflifeofel01frye_0 FrotiL a Porljait taken at the age ol Higliieeii Pixblished ty V, Gilpin, London MEMOIE OF THE LIFE FEB 2 6 1912 r. — ELIZABETH FRY, EXTRACTS FROM HER JOURNAL AND LETTERS. EDITED BY TWO OF HER DAUGHTERS. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON: CHARLES GILPIN, 5, BISHOPSGATE STREET WITHOUT. JOHN HATCHARD & SON, 187, PICCADILLY. 1847. LONDON : EICHAUD BAKREIT, PRINTER, 13, MASK LANE. INTRODUCTION. " Blessed are the dead which die in the Lord, yea saith the Spirit, for they rest from their labours and their works do follow them.'" Very cheering is it to the pilgrim on his weary path, to mark the history of those who have gone before, and to trace the power by which they have been enabled " To fill their lamps with odorous deeds of light. And clamber up the hill of heavenly truth." He may draw from it increased courage in endurance and fresh motives for exertion, for the path is not always easy, nor the way plain. When therefore, one of these is taken from the earth ; the question arises, whether any thing in the history of that Christian would encourage others, or exalt the cause of righteousness and truth. Should the labours of the departed have assumed a peculiar aspect, or have been in any respect uncommon ; the importance of this inquiry will be only enhanced. The motives of conduct, the secret springs of action must then be known, before the character can be fairly contemplated, or a just estimate formed of the individual. Elizabeth Fry was one who formed the bright exception, not the rule, in the history of woman. Her numerous friends and associates, desire to know her better, and to possess a more vi INTRODUCTION. detailed account of her life. And how can the truth be so well told, as by her own journal, her letters, and those incidents in her life which illustrate her character. Elizabeth Fry's family feel that their mother's memory belongs to others as well as to themselves : nor dare they withhold this record, from the many who have observed her proceedings with interest, and have considered but scarcely comprehended her career. Two of her daughters have undertaken the office of prepar- ing her papers for publication ; and, with the assistance of their father, selecting to the best of their judgment, such parts as may elucidate the subject, and interest the general reader. They are aware of the disadvantages under which they labour, from such an office being altogether new to them, but if the memory of their mother should not suffer through their means, they shall be well content to endure their own feelings of short coming. They owe deep thanks to many, who have lent them assistance ; returned letters, furnished materials, and helped in arranging them. But there is one point they anxiously wish to impress upon those who may peruse this Memoir ; that Elizabeth Fry never could have accomplished her works and labours of love, had not faithful and zealous associates been raised up to her help. Their unwearied energy, their skill, and their im- portant assistance will be continually perceptible in the following pages. Many of these have ceased their labours upon earth ; many are advancing into the evening of life. To mention them as they deserve, and to raise a memorial to them also, though from the nature of the case, impossible, would be to the writers most gratifying. There is another subject, con- nected with the life of EHzabeth Fry, on which her daughters would especially ask the forbearance of the public. It is the very difficult one of representing their mother as she was, and can only truly be represented " a Minister of the Society of V INTRODUCTION. Vll Friends." This peculiarity was the strongly-marked feature in her life. Here they anticipate, that many will not under- stand her course : whilst to that section of the church of Christ to which she belonged, it will probably be the most inter- esting portion of the whole. It is not their intention, as Editors, to enter into any discussion on the subject of the ministry of women ; but, deeply impressed with the unlimited nature of the operations of the Holy Spirit, they dare not doubt, but that under His influences, their mother went forward in the path marked out before her — and that she was as a fine and well- tempered instrument m the hand of the Great Head of the Church, to effect certain purposes of His will, in which her connexion with the Society of Friends, and adoption of their views, became an important auxiliary. But far beyond any sectarian, or peculiar tenets ; would they earnestly endeavour to bring before the reader the development of her Christian character, the expansiveness of her charity, and the unity she felt with all those whom she believed to be followers of the Lord Jesus Christ : desiring, that though dead she may yet speak, and that others may be stimulated by her example to follow her, as she desired and endeavoured to follow Christ. The extracts from her Journal and Correspondence display the nature of her religious mind — her absolute dependence upon the Highest influences for guidance and direction ; her unre- mitting study of the written word, and the spirit of prayer in which she carried on all her domestic duties and her objects of benevolence. To adorn the doctrine of God her Saviour, to obey his precepts, and in every thing to give Him alone the glory, was unceasingly before her mind ; emphatically did she express this during her last illness, when she thus spoke to one of her children : — " My dear I can say one thing — since my heart was touched, at the age of seventeen, I believe, I never have viii INTRODUCTION. awakened from sleep, in sickness or in health, by day or by night, without my first waking thought being, how best I might serve my Lord/' Let no one therefore attribute too much of the remarkable success that attended her undertakings, to her natural gifts, to her winning manner, her harmonious voice, her gentle firmness of jnirpose, or quickness of perception ; but rather to the fact — that she was called by God to His own service, and that He saw meet eminently to fit her for it, and to work in her both to will and to do of His good pleasure. K. F. R. E. C. Flasket, A2)ril, 1847. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PA 1780—1792. Birth — Parentage— Descent — Her Mother, her cha- racter— Memoranda by her — Removal to Earlham — Death of Mrs. Gurney — Recollections by Elizabeth Fry, of her own early life . CHAPTER II. 1792 — 1798. Sketch of female society — Circumstances of Elizabeth Gurney and her sisters — Her character and habits — Natural qualities as a young person — Absence of religious knowledge — Established principles requisite to happiness — William Savery comes to Norwich on a religious visit — General view of the origin and opinions of the Quakers — Effects of William Savory's preaching — Description by himself — Account by one of her sisters — Her own journal , CHAPTER III. 1798. Visit to London, gaiety there — Return to Earlham — Deci- sion between religion and the world — Letter from William Savery — Gradual development of opinion — Journey into Wales and the South of England — Intercourse with Friends — Cole- lirook Dale — Increasing tendency to Quakerism X CONTENTS. CHAPTER IV. 1798 — 1800. Return to Earlham— Attention to the Poor— Kind- ness to others — Appearance — Journey to the North of England — Visit to the Friends' School at Ackworth — Becomes a plain Friend — Proposals of Marriage from Mr. Fry — Letter to her cousin, J oseph Gurney Bevan — Letter to a young Friend ... 62 CHAPTER V. 1800—1809. Marriage — First visit to Plashet— Settlement in London — Letter to a Friend — Yearly Meeting — Birth of eldest child, 1801 — Journey into the North of England — Second daughter, born 1803 — Birth of eldest son, 1804 ; illness and journey to Bath — Her second son, born 1806 — Death of her mother-in-law — Birth of her fifth child 1808 — Letter to Mr. and Mrs. John Gurney — Death of her sister, Mrs. John Gurney — The Rev. Edward Edwards — Death of her father-in-law .... 93 CHAPTER VL 1809 — 1812. Removal to Plashet, enjoyment of the country — Birth of her sixth child, 1809 — Summons into Norfolk — Death of her father — Extract from the journal of Rachel Gurney — Commencement of her public ministry — Journey into the West of England — Letter to her children — Letter to the Rev. Edward Edwards — Funeral of her cousin and early friend — Letter to a distant friend — Visit to Earlham — Journey into Gloucestershire — Birth of her seventh child, 1811 — Acknow- ledged as a minister by Friends — Attention to the Poor School, &c. — Norwich Bible Society — More extended intercourse with others — Effects upon her mind 139 CHAPTER VIL 1811 — 1814. Journey with Henry Hull and her sister, Priscilla Gurney — Visit to the Meetings of Friends in Norfolk — Extract from a letter to her cousin, J. G. Bevan — Letter to the Rev. Edward Edwards — Death of a domestic servant — Death of a friend — Birth of her eighth child, 1812 — Letter to her cousin, J. G. Bevan — Removal to London for the winter — Religious visit to Friends of the London Quarterly Meeting— For the first time goes to Newgate, February 1813 — State of that prison - ^ 180 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER VIII. 1813 — 1817. Letter to the Rev. Edward Edwards — Summer at Plashet — Illness during the spring — Her ninth child born, 1814 — Letter to her cousin, J. G. Bevan — Illness and death of her brother, John Gurney — Letter to her family — Death of Joseph Gurney Bevan — Illness of her babe — Journey into Norfolk — • Earlham — A party assembled there — Visit to Kingston Monthly Meeting — Death of one of her children — Extract from letters — Attends Dorsetshire Quarterly Meeting — Her tenth child born, 1816 — Leaves her four elder children in Norfolk — Letters to her daughters — Removal to London for the winter — Attends the funeral of her cousin Joseph Gurney — Places her two elder sons at school 207 CHAPTER IX. 1817, 1818. Extract from Crabbe's Poems — Letter to her sister — General state of Prisons — School in Newgate — Case of Elizabeth Fricker — Newgate Association — Description from Buxton — Sophia de C 's Journal — Vote of thanks from the City — Letters from Robert Barclay, Esq., &c. — Letters to her daughters — Notice in newspapers — Marriage of her brother, Joseph John Gurney — Extracts from letters — Winter in London — Examina- tions before House of Commons 255 CHAPTER X. 1818. Return to Plashet — Capital Punishment — Case of Skelton — Duke of Gloucester — Lord Sidmouth — Queen Charlotte's Visit to the Mansion House — Letter to the Countess Harcourt — Maria Female Convict Ship — Visitors to Newgate, letter from Lady Mackintosh — Lord Lansdowne's Speech — Scotch Journey — Letter from the Countess Harcourt 301 xii CONTENTS. CHAPTER XI. 1819 — 1821. Takes her sons to school — Illness — Journey in conse- quence— Letters from prisoners — Reply — Return to Plashet, 1819 — Letter to her son, William Storrs Fry — Spends the winter in London — Letter to her sons — Letter to Priscilla II. Gurney — Return to Plashet, 1820 — Affliction in. her family — Female con- victs in New South Wales — Letter from the Rev. S. Marsden — Journey into the north of England — Return to London for the winter — Letters to her daughters — Letter to Walter Venning, Esq. — Prisons in St. Petersburg — Letter from John Venning, Esq. • — Foreign Prisons — Letter to Priscilla H. Gurney — Death of her sister, Priscilla Gurney — Resettlement at Plashet, 1821 — Capital punishments — Mackintosh's motion — Buxton's speech — Prison Discipline meeting 348 CHAPTER XII. 1821 — 1823. Marriage of one of her daughters — Death of a sister-in-law — Birth of her youngest child and eldest grand- child— Letter to the Princess Royal of Denmark — Letter to J. J. Gurney, 1823. — Visits several Meetings — Sale of prisoners' work — Convict ships — Adventure on the Thames — Letter to Admiral Sir Byam Martin— Letter to the Right Hon. R. W. Horton— Letter from the Duchess of . — Conclusion of 1823. . . . 405 CHAPTER XIII. 1824, 1825. Journey to Worcester — Letter to a daughter — Serious illness — British Ladies' Society — Establishment of Manor HaU, Asylum, and School of Discipline at Chelsea — Brighton — District Visiting Society there — Books for Preventive men, near Brighton — Letter from Dr. Steinkopff — Letter from Lieutenant C , and his men — Dagenham — Return to Plashet — Letter to her daughter — Visit to Brighton — Death of her aunt, Mrs. Gurney — Death of Samuel Hoare, Esq. — Letter from her sister, Mrs. Hoare — Marriage of her eldest son — Autumn at Dagenham — Journey into Cornwall and Devonshire 409 M E M 0 I E OP THE LIFE OF ELIZABETH FEY. CHAPTER I. 1780 — 1792. Birth — Parentage — Descent — Her Mother, her character — Memoranda by her — Removal to Earlham — Death of Mrs. Gurney — Recollections by Elizabeth Fry, of her own early life. Elizabeth Fry was bom in Norwich, on the 21st of May, 1780. She was the third daughter of John Gurney, Esq., of Earlham, in the county of Norfolk, and Catherine, daughter of Daniel Bell, a merchant in London : whose wife Catherine, daughter of David Barclay was a descendant of the ancient family of the Barclays of Ury, in Kincardineshire, and gran- daughter of Robert Barclay, the well-known apologist of the Quakers. The name Gurney, or Gournay,* is of great antiquity in the county of Norfolk, and is derived from the town of Gournay en Brai, in Normandy. The Norman lords of which place, held fiefs in Norfolk, as early as the reign of William Rufus. Two younger branches of this Norman race existed for some centuries. * See Burke's History of the Commoners of Great Britain and Ireland, vol. i. p. 484. VOL. I. B 2 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1780. The one which was the most distinguished, was seated in Somersetshire ; the other at Hingham Gurneys, and West Barsham, in Norfolk, where it continued till 1661 ; when it became extinct in the direct male line, and the estates devolved on co-heiresses. John Gurney, or Gournay, of Norwich, merchant, descended from a younger son of the West Barsham branch, was the im- mediate ancestor of the present family of Gurney.* He was bom in 1655, and in early life embraced the tenets of the Society of Friends, on their first appearance, under George Fox, their founder. Joseph Gurney, his son, purchased Keswick ; which continues to be the residence of the head of the family. John Gurney, of Keswick, his son, died in 1770; leaving three sons, of whom John Gurney, of Earlham, the father of Elizabeth Fry, was the second. She was thus by many generations of both descents, an hereditary member of the Society of Friends. John Gurney, of Earlham, the father of the subject of this Memoir, was born in 1749, and was educated in the principles of the Society of Friends. As he advanced in life, his pursuits led to intercourse with persons of various denominations ; this, with a naturally social disposition, induced unusual liberality of sentiment towards others. He was a man of ready talent, of bright discerning mind, singularly warm-hearted, and affectionate, very benevolent ; and in manners courteous and popular. His marriage with Catherine Bell took place in 1775. Mr. and Mrs. John Gurney established themselves in a roomy quadrangular house in St. Clement's parish, Norwich, which belonged to that branch of the family ; there for some years they passed the winter months, spending the summer at Bramerton, a * See Burke's Commoners. 1788.] OF KLIZABFITH FRY. 3 pretty village about four miles from Norwich, in an unpretending cheerful dwelling on the Common. Mrs. Gurney was a person of excellent abilities, and of con- siderable attainments, as well as much personal beauty. She was disposed to scientific and intellectual pursuits, and singularly delighted in the charms and beauties of nature ; imbuing her childi'en, almost in infancy, with tastes that have remained with them through life. She preferred society that might be termed literary, to such as merely resulted from local circumstances. At the period of which we speak, talent was frequetitly allied to scepticism ; and the highest attainments in human learning were too often unaccompanied by soundness of religious faith. Many persons doubted ; even more were indifferent to the great truths of Christianity ; and so general was this state of things, that individuals of personal piety, who moreover earnestly desired the prosperity of the kingdom of Christ, too little considered the opinions entertained by others, and associated freely with those whose religious belief was essentially at variance with their own. We cannot doubt, but, that to a certain extent, such was the case with Mr. and Mrs. Gurney ; or that it had an injurious effect upon their family, especially after the death of Mrs. Gurney ; who laboured faithfully for the good of her children, reading the Bible with them, and urging upon them the necessity of prayer and personal piety. She watched minutely over the formation of character and habit ; and planted in their young minds seeds, of which, they long afterwards reaped the excellent fruits. Her own words, in memoranda found after her death, are so descriptive of her, that they find a fitting place here. Bramerton, April, 1788. — In the morning endeavour, at first waking, to bring the mind into a state of silent waiting and wor- ship, preparatory to the active employment of the day ; when up, visit the several apartments of the children, and, if leisure permit, B 2 4 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1788. before breakfast read the scriptures, if not, it should not be after- wards omitted ; forget not the kindest attentions to my dearest companion before parting for the day. After walking with the little ones, and endeavouring to enjoy each individually, begin with the necessary instructions for C. and R. ; then attend to the kitchen and all family regulations, and to the claims of the poor. When S. B. (the governess) has completed John's lessons, he may be suffered to play abroad with Peter (the coachman) or the gar- dener, but occasional admonition should be given, as to their conduct before him ; visit the nurseries, with a view to aiTange all matters to the advantage of the children : from thence repair to S. B.'s apartment, to attend from twelve to two o'clock, to assist in the education of the three eldest girls, who, as S. B. begins at ten o'clock with Kitty, are supposed to have advanced considerably in their lessons, before they are joined by me; endea- vour after patience and forbearance in this most important affair, which when completed for the day, may be succeeded by a walk ; dressing, and again attending the nurseries before dinner ; at which time, forget not the excellent custom of grateful, pious acknowledgment for blessings bestowed. The introduction of the children after this meal, generally affords my dear husband and myself an opportunity of the united enjoyment of our domestic comforts. A short afternoon may either be detoted to the com- pany of my dear husband, or to writing letters, reading, or instruct- ing the children alternately ; particularly in the knowledge of the scriptures ; also in the superintendence of S. B.'s apartment. Before tea, or immediately after, to assemble the little ones, to take particular and individual leave of each other ; and the few remaining hours of the evening to be devoted to the promotion of my husband's enjoyment, and, if possible, to blend instruction and amusement for the elder children, who are our constant com- panions till the time of rest ; then being quiet and uninterrupted with my best friend, be not unmindful of the religious duties of life ; which consideration, may, I hope, lead to that trust in Providence, that gives spiritual tranquillity and spiritual support. Remember, that these desultory remarks are designed, first, to promote my duty to my Maker — secondly, my duty towards my husband and children, relations, servants, and poor neighbours. 1792.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 5 Earlham, 1792. — " If in conversation we studied rather to avoid whatever may in its nature be reprehensible, than to soarcli for approbation or admiration, would not associating with our friends become more innocent if not more profitable. If our piety does not appear adequate to supporting us in the exigencies of life, and I may add, death ; siirely our hearts cannot be suffi- ciently devoted to it. It may be encouraging to the poor traveller through life, to consider that as he recedes from vice, he ap- proaches towards virtue ; and as he despises the one, he will be- come enamoured with the other. Modern authors on religion and morality, describe perhaps very well what human nature ought to be, but do they sufficiently point out the means of becoming so ? Do they direct the inquirer to the still small voice within ? Books of controversy on religion are seldom read with profit, not even those in favour of our own particular tenets. The mind stands less in need of conviction than conversion. Remarks on Education. As our endeavours in education, as in every other pursuit, should be regulated by the ultimate design ; it would be certainly ■wise, in those engaged in the important ofiice of instructing youth, to consider, what would render the objects of their care perfect, when men or women ; rather than what will render them pleasing as children. These reflections have led me to decide upon what I most covet for my daughters, as the result of our daily pursuits. As piety, is undoubtedly the shortest and securest way to all moral rectitude ; young M-omen should be virtuous and good, on the broad firm basis of Christianity ; therefore, it is not the opinions of any man or sect whatever, that are to be inculcated, in preference to those rigid but divine truths, contained in the New Testament. As it appears to be our reasonable duty to improve our faculties, and by that means to render ourselves useful ; it is necessary and very agreeable, to be well informed of our own language, and the Latin, as being the most permanent ; and the French, as being the most in general request. The simple beauties of mathematics appear to be so excellent an exercise to the understanding, that they ought on no account to be omitted, and are perhaps scarcely 6 MEMOIE OF THE LIFE [1792. less essential, than a competent knowledge of ancient and modern history, geography, and chronology. To which may be added, a knowledge of the most approved branches of natural history, and a capacity of drawing from nature, in order to promote that knowledge, and facilitate the pursuit of it. As a great portion of a woman's life ought to be passed, in at least regulating the subordinate affairs of a family ; she should work plain work neatly herself, understand the cutting out of linen ; also, she should not be ignorant of the common proprieties of a table, or deficient in the economy of any of the most minute affairs of a family ; it should be here observed, that gentleness of manner is indispensably necessary in women ; to say nothing of that polished behaviour, that adds a charm to every qualification ; to both of which, it appears pretty certain, children may be led without vanity or afi'ectation, by amiable and judicious instruction. As children are not without some latent sense of their duty to their Maker, perhaps the following observations would not be amiss to offer, when they first go to a place of worship. Since we know that He, who gave us life, health, and strength of body, has given us an understanding mind, which will shew us what is reasonable and right to do ; we ought to consider, whether it is not right to love and obey that excellent Being, who has certainly placed us here on earth and surrounded us with blessings and enjoyments, that we may become as He would have us ; that is, good ; and that we should adore and love Him at all times ; but as many things happen to lead the mind from this adoration and love of God, which is His du.e, and our truest enjoyment ; it is necessary to retire with our friends and neighbours from hurry and business, that we may think of Him who delights to bless us, and will consider us as His children, if we love Him as a heavenly Father. Do not, then, my dear child, sufier thy thoughts to wander, or to dwell upon trifles, when thou art most immediately before Him, whom thovi must strive to love, with all thy heart and soul. In the year 1786, Mr. and Mrs. Gurney removed to Earlham Hall, a seat of the Bacon family, about two miles from Norwich. Mr. Gumey subsequently purchased an adjoining property, thus 1792.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 7. adding to the range and variety afforded to his large young party, by that pleasant home. Earlham has peculiar charms from its diversified scenery. The house is large, old, and irregular ; placed in the centre of a well-wooded park. The river Wensum, a clear winding stream, flows by it. Its banks ; overhung by an avenue of ancient timber trees, formed a favourite resort of the young people ; there, in the summer evenings, they would often meet to walk, read, or sketch. On the south-front of the house extends a noble lawn, flanked by groves of trees growing from a carpet of wild flowers, moss, and long grass. Every nook, every green path at Earlham, tells a tale of the past, and recalls to those who remember the time when they were peopled by that joyous party ; the many loved ones of the number ; who, having shared with one another the pleasures of youth, the cares of maturer age, and above all, the hope of Immortality, are now together at rest ! Of the twelve children of Mr. and Mrs. Gurney, nine were born before their removal to Earlham ; one of them died in in- fancy. The three youngest sons were born after their settlement there. The mode of Ufa at Bramerton was continued with little altera- tion at Earlham, till November, 1792, when it pleased God to remove from this large family, the kind mistress, — the loving wife,— the devoted mother. She died after an illness of tluee weeks, leaving eleven children, the eldest scarcely seventeen, the youngest, not two years old. During a period of comparative leisui-e, Elizabeth Fry occupied herself in perusing her early journals. She thought it well to destroy all that were written before the year 1797, and to substitute the following sketch of their contents, assisted by her own recollections. Dagenham, Eighth Month 23rcZ, 1828. — My earliest recollec- tions are, I should think, soon after I was two years old ; my father at that time had two houses, one in Norwich, and one at 3 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1792. Bramerton, a sweet country place, situated on a Common, near a pretty village ; here, I believe, many of my early tastes were formed, though we left it to reside at Earlham, when I was about five years old. The impressions then received remain lively on my recollection ; the delight in the beauty and wild scenery in parts of the Common, the trees, the flowers, and the little rills, that abounded on it, the farm houses, the village school, and the different poor • people and their cottages ; particularly a poor woman with one arm, whom we called one-armed Betty ; another neighbour, Greengrass, and her strawberry beds round a little pond ; our gardener, who lived near a large piece of water, and used to bring fish from it ; here, I think, my great love for the country, the beauties of nature, and attention to the poor, began. My mother was most dear to me, and the walks she took with me in the old-fashioned garden, are as fresh with me, as if only just passed ; and her telling me about Adam and Eve being driven out of Paradise : I always considered it must be just like our garden at Bramerton. I remember that my spirits were not strong ; that I frequently cried if looked at, and used to say that my eyes were weak ; but I remember much pleasure and little suffering, or particular tendency to naughtiness, up to this period. Fear about this time began to show itself, of people and things : I remember being so much afraid of a gun, that I gave up an expedition of pleasure with my father and mother, because there was a gun in the carriage. I was also exceedingly afraid of the dark, and suffered so acutely from being left alone without a light after I vrmt to bed, that I believe my nervous system was in- jured in consequence of it ; also, I had so great a dread of bathing, (to which I was at times obliged to submit) that at the first sight of the sea, when we were as a family going to stay by it, it would make me crj ; indeed, fear was so strong a prin- ciple in my mind, as greatly to mar the natural pleasure of child- hood. I am now of opinion, that it Would have been much more subdued, and great suffering spared, by its having been still more yielded to ; by having a light left in my room ; not being long left alone ; and never forced to bathe ; for I do not at all doubt that it partly arose from that nervous susceptible constitution, that has at times, throughout my life, caused me such real and 1792.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 9 deep suffering. I know not what would have been the conse- quence, had I had any other than a most careful and wise mother, and judicious nurses, or had I been alarmed, as too many children are, by false threats of what might happen. I had, as well as a fearful, rather a reserved mind, for I never remember telling of my many painful fears, though I must often have shown them by weeping when left in the dark, and on other occasions : this reserve made me little understood, and thought very little of, except by my mother and one or two others. I was considered and called very stupid and obstinate. I certainly did not like learning, nor did I, I believe, attend to my lessons, partly from a delicate state of health, that produced languor of mind as well as body ; but, I think, having the name of being stujnd, really tended to make me so, and discoui'aged my efforts to learn. I remember having a poor, not to say low, opinion of myself, and used to think that I was so very inferior to my sisters, Catherine and Rachel. I believe I had not a name only for being obstinate, for my nature had then a strong tendency that way ; and I was disposed to a spirit of contradiction, always ready to see things a little differently from others, and not willing to yield my senti- ments to theirs. My natural affections were very strong from my early child- hood, at times almost overwhelmingly so ; such was the love for my mother, that the thought that she might die and leave me used to make me weep after I went to bed, and for the rest of the family, notwithstanding my fearful nature, my childlike wish was, that two large walls might crush us all together, that we might die at once, and thus avoid the misery of each other's death. I seldom, if I could help it, left my mother's side, I watched her when asleep in the day with exquisite anxiety, and used to go gently to her bed-side to listen, from the awful fear that she did not breathe ; in short, I may truly say, it amounted to deep reverence, that I felt for my father and mother. I never remember, as a little child, but once being punished by my mother ; and she then mistook tears of sorrow for tears of naughtiness, a thing that deeply impressed me, and I have never forgotten the pain it gave me. Although I do not imply that I had no faults, far from it, as some of the faults of my childhood 10 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1792. are very lively in my recollection; yet from my extreme love and fear, many of these faults were known almost only to myself. j\Iy imagination was lively, and I once remember, and only once, telling a real untruth with one of my sisters and one of my brothers. "We saw a bright light one morning, which we represented far above the reality, and upon the real thing being shown us that we had seen, we made it out not to be it. My remembrance is of the pleasure of my childhood, being almost spoiled through fear, and my religious impressions, such as I had, were accompanied by gloom : on this account, I tliink the utmost care needed, in representing religious truth to children, that fearful views of it should be most carefully avoided, lest it should give a distaste for that which is most precious. Firet show them the love and mercy of God in Christ Jesus, and the sweetness and blessedness of his service ; and such things in scripture, for instance as Abraham"'s sacrifice, should be carefully explained to them. I think I suffered much in my youth from the most tender nervous system ; I certainly felt symptoms of ill health before my mother died, that I thought of speaking to her about, but never did, partly because I did not know how to explain them ; but they ended afterwards in very severe attacks of illness. I have always thought being forced to bathe was one cause of this, and I mention it, because I believe it a dangerous thing to do to children. What care is needful not to force children to learn too much, as it not only injiu-es them, but gives a distaste for intellectual pursuits. Instruction should be adapted to their condition, and communicated in an easy and agreeable way. How great is the importance of a wise mother, directing the tastes of her cHldren in very early life, and judiciously influencing their affections. I remember with pleasure my mother's beds for wild flowers, which, with delight, I used, as a child, to attend to with her ; it gave me that pleasure in obsernng their beauties and varieties, that though I never have had time to become a botanist, few can imagine, in my many journeys, how I have been pleased and refreshed, by observing and enjoying the wild flowers on my way. Again, she collected shells, and had a cabinet, and bought one for Rachel and myself, where we placed our curiosities ; 1792.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 11 and I may truly say, in the midst even of deep trouble, and often most weighty engagements of a religious and philanthropic nature, I have derived advantage, refreshment, and pleasure, from my taste for these things, making collections of them, and various natural curiosities, although, as with the flowers, I have not studied them scientifically. My mother also encouraged my most close friendship with my sister Rachel, and we had our pretty light closet, our books, our pictures, our curiosities, our tea things, all to ourselves ; and as far as I can recollect, we unitedly partook of these pleasures, without any of the little jealousies, or the quarrels of childhood. My mother, as far as she knew, really trained us up in the fear and love of the Lord ; my deep impression is, that she was a holy devoted follower of the Lord Jesus ; but that her understand- ing was not fuUy enlightened as to the fulness of gospel truth ; she taught us as far as she knew, and I now remember the solemn religious feelings I had whilst sitting in silence with her, after reading the scriptures, and a Psalm before we went to bed. I have no doubt that her prayers were not in vain in the Lord. She died when I was twelve years old ; the remembrance of her illness and death is sad, even to the present day. CHAPTER II. 1790 — 1798. Sketch of female society — Circumstances of Elizabeth Gurney and her sisters — Her character and habits — Natural qualities as a young person — Absence of religious knowledge — Established principles requisite to happiness — William Savery comes to Norwich on a religious visit — General view of the origin and opinions of the Quakers — Effects of WiUiam Savery's preaching — Description by himself — Account by one of her sisters — Her own journal. Among the vast changes of the last century, there was no change greater than that which took place in the education of women. Addison, and his coadjutors, were among the foremost to teach the women of modern England, that they possessed powers of mind, and capabilities of usefulness. Many, as they sipped their coffee, with the Spectator of the morning in their hand, were awakened to the consciousness of a higher destiny for woman, than the labour of the tapestry frame, or pursuits of an entirely frivolous nature. A taste for reading became more or less general. The heavy wisdom of Johnson, the lighter wit of Swift, the satire of Pope, the pathos of Gray, and the close painting of Goldsmith, found among women not only those who could enjoy, but who could appreciate their different excellencies. Mrs. Montague, Mrs. Carter, Mrs. Chapone, with a group of gifted friends and associates, proved to the world the possibility of high literary attainments existing with every femi- nine grace and virtue. The stimulus was given, but like all other changes in society, the opposite extreme was reached, before the right and reasonable was discovered. Infidelity was making slow, though sure advances upon the Continent. Rousseau and 1792.] MEMOIR OF THE LIFE, &C. 13 Voltaire were but types of the state of feeling and principles in France. The effects gradually extended to our own country, and England has to blush for the perversion of female talent, the evil influence of which, was only counteracted by shewing as a beacon light, to warn others from shipwreck. Science and philosophy, so called, advanced and flourished, but by their side flourished also the Upas tree of infidelity, poisoning with its noxious breath the flowers and the fruits, otherwise so pleasant to the eye, and so good for the use of man. The writings of Hannah More, were well calculated to enlighten and improve her sex ; she spoke as woman can alone speak to women ; but she was then only rising into celebrity, and as an author little known. Norwich had not escaped the general contagion. On the con- trary, at the period of which we speak, it was noted for the charm, the talent, and the scepticism of the society of the town and neighboiu-hood. The death of Mrs. Gurney, had left her seven daughters, unprotected by a mother's care, to pursue the difficult path of early womanhood. They appear to have been rich in attraction and talent, lively and original, possessing a peculiar freshness of character, with singular purity of purpose, and warmth of affection. But their faith was obscure, and their principles necessarily unfijxed and wavering. They appreciated the beauty and excellence of reli- gion ; but it was more natural than revealed religion with which they were acquainted. There was something of mysticism amongst the Quakers of that day, and by no means the clear and general acknowledgment of the doctrine of the " Trinity m Unity," as revealed in the New Testament, which is now to be met with amongst the greater part of the Society of " Friends." To the present time, that expression, as designating the Deity, is not in use among them, from its not being found in the Bible. The family of Mr. Gurney, thus left to their own resources, unaccustomed to the study of 14 MEMOIR OF THK LIFE [1792. the scriptures, and with no other sources of information from which to learn, for a time were permitted to " stumble upon the dark mountains, seeking rest and finding none." These remarks apply especially to the three elder daughters, as they gradually advanced into life. The four younger ones, sheltered in the school-room, were comparatively spared the diffi- culties through which their sisters were pioneering the way. Mr. Gurney's occupations, both public and private, and his naturally trustful disposition, prevented his seeing all the dangers to which they were exposed. They formed many acquaintances, and some friendships, with persons greatly gifted by nature, but fearfully tainted by the prevailing errors of the day. Great pain and bitter disappointment resulted from these connexions ; but demand- ing only an allusion here, as they indirectly affected EUzabeth through the sufferings of others, and the experience gained to herself To the gaieties of the world, in the usual acceptation of the term, they were but little exposed. Music and dancing are not allowed by Friends ; though a scruple, as to the former, is by no means universal. Mr. Gurney had no objection to music : they had all a taste for it, though almost uncultivated ; some of them sang dehghtfully. The sweet and thrilling pathos of their native warblings are still remembered with pleasui-e by those who heard them, especially the duets of Rachel and Elizabeth. They danced occasionally in the large anti-room leading to the drawing-room, but with little of the spirit of display so often manifested on these occasions. It was more an effusion of young joyous hearts, who thus sought and found an outlet for their mirth. When her health permitted it, no one of the party entered with more zest into these amusements than Elizabeth. Her figure tall, and at that time slight and gTaceful, was peculiarly fitted for dancing. She was also an excellent horsewoman, and rode fearlessly and well ; but she suffered much from delicacy of constitution, and was 1795.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 15 liable to severe nervous attacks, which often impeded her joining her sisters in their different objects and pursuits. In countenance, she is described as having been as a young person very sweet and pleasing, with a profusion of soft flaxen hair, though, perhaps, not so glowing and handsome as some of her sisters. She had much native grace, and to many people was very attractive. Elizabeth was not studious by nature, and was, as a child, though gentle and quiet in temper, self-willed and deter- mined. In a letter, written before she was three years old, her mother thus mentions her : — " My dove-like Betsey scarcely ever offends, and is, in every sense of the word, truly engaging." Her dislike to learning proved a serious disadvantage to her after slie lost her mother ; her education, consequently, being defective and unfinished. In natural talent, she was quick and penetrat- ing, and had a depth of originality very uncommon. As she grew older, enterprise and benevolence were two predominant features in her character. In contemplating her peculiar gifts, it is won- derful to observe the adaptation of her natural qualities to her future career ; and how, through the transforming power of divine grace, each one became subservient to the highest pur- poses. Her natural timidity changed to the opposite virtue of courage, but with such holy moderation and nice discretion, as never failed to direct it aright. The touch of obstinacy she displayed as a child, became that finely tempered decision and firmness, which enabled her to execute her projects for the good of her feUow-creatures. That which was in childhood something not unlike cunning, ripened into the most uncommon penetration, long-sightedness, and skill in influencing the minds of those around her. Her disinclination to the common methods of learning, appeared to be connected with much original thought, and a mind acting on its own resources ; for she certainly always possessed more genius and ready quick comprehension, than application or argument. 16 MEMOIB OF THE LIFE [1797. Such were the circumstances, and such the characteristics of Elizabeth Gumcy and her sisters, after the death of their mother : and years passed on, with few changes, but such as necessarily came with the lapse of time, and their advance in age. But He who had purposes of mercy towards them ; in His own way, and in His own good time, was preparing for them emancipation from their doubts, and light from their darkness. Wonderful is it to mark how, by little and little, through various instruments, through mental conflicts, through bitter experience, He gradually led them, each one, into the meridian light of day — the glorious liberty of the children of God. At a time when religion in a more gloomy form might not have gained a hearing ; when the graver countenance of rebuke would probably have been unheeded, a gentleman became acquainted with the Earlham family, of high principles, and cultivated mind. With him the sisters formed a strong and lasting friendship. He addressed himself to their understandings, on the grand doctrines of Christianity ; he referred them to the written word as the rule of life ; he lent them, and read with them, books of a religious tendency. He treated religion, as such, with reverence ; and although himself a Roman Catholic, he abstained from every controversial topic, nor ever used his influence, directly or in- directly, in favour of his own church. There was another indi- vidual who proved an important instrument, in leading the sisters to sound views of religion, though, when first acquainted with them, herself wandering in the wilderness of doubt, if not of error. This was Marianne Galton, afterwards Mrs. Schimmel Penninck.* Being a highly educated person, of great mental power, and accustomed to exercise her abilities in the use of her reason and an honest search after truth ; she acquired considerable influence over them. As the truth of revelation opened upon her own * Authoress of a Tour to Alet, and the Grande Chattreuse, &c., (fee. 1797.] OF ELIZARETH FKY. 17 understanding, and her heart became influenced by it ; they shared in her advance, and profited by her experience. There were other individuals with whom they associated, whose influence was desirable, but less powerful, than that of either Miss Galton, or Mr. Pitchford. They appear also to have derived advantage, at times, from the religious visits of Friends to Earlham. The family of Mr. Gurney were in the habit of attending no place of worship, but the Friends' meeting. The attendance of Elizabeth was con- tinually impeded by want of health, and it is diflicult to know when the habit of absenting herself might have been broken through, but for her uncle, Joseph Gumey ; who urged the duty upon her, and encouraged her to make the attempt. He was a decided Friend, and had much influence with her, both then, and during her future life. She was ready, indeed, to essay any thing, that might tend to satisfy her conscience, or meet the cravings of her heart, for a something which as yet she had not obtained. There is occasionally to be met with in the character of fallen man, a longing after perfection ; after that which can alone satisfy the immortal spirit ; this she experienced in no common measure. Her Journal is replete with desires after "virtue" and "truth." She seeks and finds God in His works, but as yet she had not found Him, as He stands revealed in the page of inspiration. January, 1797. — My mind is in so dark a state, that I see every thing through a black medium. Ajyril. — Why do I wish so much for the Prince* to come ? Pride, alas ! is the cause. Do such feelings hurt my mind ? they may not, in this instance, but if given way to, they are difficult to overcome. How am I to overcome them ? April. — Without passions of any kind how different I should * H. R. H. William Frederick, afterwards Duke of Gloucester, then quartered at Norwich. VOL. I. c IS MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1797. be, I would not give them up, but I sliould like to have them under subjection ; but it appears to me, as I feel, impossible to govern them, my mind is not strong enough, as I at times think they do no hurt to others. But am I sure they will hurt no one ? I believe by not governing myself in little things, I may by degrees become a despicable character, and a curse to society ; therefore, my doing wrong is of consequence to others, as well as to myself "As the beams of the sun irradiate the earth, and yet remain where they were, so it is, in some proportion, with an holy mind, that illustrates all our actions, and yet adheres to its original. ' ' — Sen eca's Mo rals. April 25th. — I feel by experience, how much entering into the world hurts me ; worldly company, I think, materially injures, it excites a false stimulus, such as a love of pomp, pride, vanity, jea- lousy, and ambition ; it leads to think about dress, and such trifles, and when out of it, we fly to novels and scandal, or some- thing of that kind, for entertainment. I have lately been given up a good deal to worldly passions ; by what I have felt I can easily imagine how soon I should be quite led away. 29th. — I met the Prince, it showed me the folly of the world ; my mind feels very flat after this storm of pleasure. May 16th. — There is a sort of luxury in giving way to the feelings ! I love to feel for the sorrows of others, to pour wine and oil into the wounds of the afflicted ; there is a luxury in feeling the heart glow, whether it be with joy or sorrow. I think the difierent periods of life may well be compared to the seasons. First, we are in the spring, only buds are to be seen ; next, our characters are blown, and it is summer ; autumn follows, and there are then many remains of summer, and beautiful ones too ; there springs also the best fruit from the summer flower. Winter must come, it will follow in its coui'se ; there is not much more pleasure then, than collecting a few solitary berries, and playing with the snow and ice. I like to think of eveiy thing, to look at mankind ; I love to " look through Nature up to Nature's God.'" I have no more religion than that, and in the little I have I am not the least devo- tional, but when I admire the beauties of nature, I cannot help thinking of the source from whence such beauties flow. I feel it 1797.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 19 a support : I believe firmly that all is guided for the best by an invisible power, therefore I do not fear the evils of life so much. I love to feel good — I do what I can to be kind to everybody. I have many faults which I hope in time to overcome. I8th. — Most likely about a hundred years from this time, neither one person, nor any thing that has life, will be alive. What is still more wonderful, is that all should be so continually chano-ino;, almost without our observation. Mo7iday, 21si. — I am seventeen to-day. Am I a happier or a better creature than I was this time twelvemonths ? I know I am happier; I think I am better. I hope I shall be much better this day year than I am now. I hope to be quite an altered per- son, to have more knowledge, to have my mind in greater order ; and my heart too, that, wants to be put in order as much, if not more, than any part of me, it is in such a fly-away state ; but I think if ever it were settled on one object it would never, no never, fly away any more ; it would rest quietly and happily on the heart that was open to receive it, it will then be most constant ; it is not my fault it now flies away, it is owing to circumstances. SOi/i. — It is a great comfort to me that life is short, and soon passes away ; yet, it is certainly a pleasure or blessing to exist, I think I have now no reason to wish to die, I am so well ; but I must own with ill health, such as I used to have, life is a burden ; perhaps, I now think worse of it than I did when I had it, for the imagination increases evils at a distance, as it does every thing else ; I was supported through it, whilst it lasted : though I was very unhappy, I could not call myself a miserable being. Ill health is certainly a deprivation of the powers of life ; we do but half live when ill : my fate is guided by an all- wise and all-vir- tuous Director, I shall not be ill, unless it is right I should be so. Monday, June. — I am at this present time in an odd state, I am like a ship put out to sea without a pilot ; I feel my heart and mind so over burdened, I want some one to lean upon. (^Written on a bright summer's morning.') Is there not a ray of perfection amidst the sweets of this morn- ing ? I do think there is something perfect from which all good flows. 20^A. — If I have long to live in this world, may I bear mis- c 2 20 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1797. fortunes with fortitude ; do what I can to alleviate the sorrows of others, exert what power I have to increase happiness ; try to govern my passions by reason, and strictly adhere to what I think right. July 7th. — I have seen several things in myself and others, I never before remarked ; but I have not tried to improve myself, I have given way to my passions, and let them have command over me. I have known my faults, and not corrected them, and now I am determined I will once more try, with redoubled ardour, to overcome my wicked inclinations ; I must not flirt ; I must not ever be out of temper with the children ; I must not contradict without a cause ; I must not mump when my sisters are liked and I am not ; I must not allow myself to be angry ; I must not exaggerate, which I am inclined to do. I must not give way to luxury ; I must not be idle in mind, I must try to give way to every good feeling, and overcome every bad ; I will see what I can do, if I had but perseverance, I could do all that I wish, I will try. I have lately been too satirical, so as to hurt some- times ; remember, it is always a fault to hurt others. 8th. — A much better day, though many faults. 10th. — Some poor people were here ; I do not think I gave them what I did, with a good heart. I am inclined to give away ; but for a week past, owing to not having much money, I have been mean and extravagant. Shameful ! Whilst I live, may I be generous ; it is in my nature, and I will not overcome so good a feeling. I am inclined to be extravagant, and that leads to meanness, for those who will throw away a good deal, are apt to mind giving a little. llth. — I am in a most idle mind, and inclined to have an indolent dissipated day ; but 1 will try to overcome it, and see how far I can. I am well, oh, most inestimable of comforts ! Happy, happy, I, to be so well; how good, how virtuous, ought I to be ! May what I have suffered be a lesson to me, to feel for those who are ill, and alleviate their sorrows as far as lies in my power ; let it teach nfe never to forget the blessings I enjoy. I ought never to be unhappy ; look back at this time last year, how ill I was, how miserable ; yet I was supported through it ; God will support through the suffering 1797.] OF ELTZABKTII FRY. •21 He inflicts ; if I were devotional, I should fall on my knees, and be most grateful for the blessings I enjoy ; a good father, one whom I dearly love, sisters formed after my own heart, friends whom I admire, and good health, which gives a 'relish to all. Company to dinner ; I must beware of not being a flirt, it is an abominable character ; I hope I shall never be one, and yet I fear I am one now a little. Be careful not to talk at random. Beware, and see how well I can get through this day, without one foolish action. If I do pass this day without one foolish action, it is the fii'st I ever passed so. If I pass a day with only a few foohsh actions, I may think it a good one. loth. — This book is quite a little friend to my heart ; it is next to communicating my feelings to another person. I would not but write in it for something, for it is most comfortable to read it over and see the difi"erent workings of my heart and soul. oQth. — Pride and vanity are too much the incentives to most of the actions of men, they produce a love of admiration, and in thinking of the opinions of others, we are too apt to forget the monitor within. We should first look to ourselves, and try to make ourselves virtuous, and then pleasing. Those who are truly virtuous, not only do themselves good, but they add to the good of all. All have a portion entrusted to them, of the general good, and those who cherish and preserve it, are blessings to society at large ; and those who do not, become a curse. It is wonderfully ordered, how in acting for our own good, we promote the good of others. My idea of religion, is, not for it to unfit us for the duties of life, like a nun who leaves them for prayer and thanksgiving ; but I think it should stimulate and capacitate us to perform these duties properly. Seeing my father low this evening, I have done all I can to make him comfortable, I feel it one of my first duties ; I hope he will always find in me a most true friend and afiectionate daughter. August \st. — I have done little to-day, I am so very idle ; instead of improving I fear I go back ; I think I may improve, being so young, but I also thinlc there is every chance of my dis- improving ; my inclinations lead me to be an idle, flirting, worldly, girl ; I sec what would be acting right ; I have neither activity nor perseverance in what I think right. I am like one 22 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1797. setting out on a journey, if I set out on the wrong road, and do not try to recover the right one, before I have gone far, I shall most likely lose my way for ever, and every step I take, the more diffi- cult shall I find it to return, therefore, the temptation will be gi"eater to go on, till I get to destruction. On th€ contrary, if now, whilst I am innocent of any great faults, I turn into the right path, I shall feel more and more contented every step I take, and if I do now and then err a little from the proper path, I shall not find it so hard to return to it, for I shall by degrees find the road to vice more and more unpleasant. Trifles occupy me far too much, such as dress, &c., &;c. I find it easier to acknowledge my vices than my follies. Qth. — I have a cross to-night. I had very much set my mind on going to the Oratorio, the prince is to be there, and by all accounts it will be quite a grand sight, and there will be the finest music ; but if my father does not like me to go, much as I wish it, I will give it up with pleasure, if it be in my power, without a murmur. — I went to the Oratorio, I enjoyed it, but spoke sadly at random ; what a bad habit ! ! I'Uh. — I do not know if I shall not soon be rather religious, because I have thought lately, what a support, it is through life ; it seems so delightful to depend upon a superior power, for all that is good ; it is at least always having the bosom of a friend open to us, (in imagination) to rest all our cares and sorrows upon ; and what must be our feelings to imagine that friend per- fect, and guiding aU and every thing, as it should be guided. I think anybody who had real faith, could never be unhappy ; it appears the only certain source of support, and comfort in this life, and what is best of all, it draws to virtue, and if the idea be ever so ill founded, that leads to that gi'eat object, why should we shun it ? Eeligion has been misused and corrupted, that is no reason why religion itself is not good. I fear being religious, in case I should be enthusiastic. \5th. — For a few days past, I have been in a worldly state, dissipated, a want of thought, idle, relaxed and stupid, aU outside, no inside. I feel I am a contemptible fine lady. May I be pre- served from continuing so, is the ardent prayer of my good man, but my evil man tells me I shall pray in vain. I will try. I fear 1798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. for myself, I feel in the course of a little time I shall be all outside flippery, vain, proud, conceited ; I could use improper words at myself, but my good man will not let me. But I am good in something, it is wicked to despair of myself, it is the way to make me what I desire not to be, I hope I shall always be vir- tuous ; can I be really wicked ? I may be so, if I do not over- come my first weak inclinations, I wish I had more solidity, and less fluidity in my disposition. I feel my own weakness, and insufficiency to bear the evils and rubs of life. I must try by every stimulus in my power, to strengthen myself both bodily and mentally, it can only be done by activity and perseverance. \dth. — Idle and relaxed in mind, greatly dissipated by hearing the band, &c. &;c. Music has a great effect on me, it at times makes me feel almost beside myself. ZQth. — " Come what, come may, time and the hour run through the roughest day, " a very sad and trying day. Tried by being poorly, by others, and by myself ; very far from what I ought to be. Sept. 3rd. — There is much difference between being obstinate and steady, I am obstinate when I contradict, for the sake of con- tradiction ; I am steady, when I keep to what I really think right. I am too apt to contradict, whether I shoiJd or not. If I am bid to do a thing, my spirit revolts ; if I am asked to do a thing, I am willing. December. — A thought passed my mind, that if I had some religion, I should be superior to what I am, it would be a bias to better actions ; I think I am by degrees, losing many excellent qualities. I am more cross, more proud, more vain, more extra- vagant. I lay it to my great love of gaiety, and the world. I feel, I know I am falling. I do believe if I had a little true religion, I should have a greater support than I have now ; in virtue, my mind wants a stimulus ; never, no never, did mind want one more : but I have the greatest fear of religion, because I never saw a person religious, who was not enthusiastic. January, 1798. — I must die! I shall die ! wonderful, death is beyond comprehension. To leave life, and all its interests, and be almost forgotten by those we love. What a comfort, must a real faith in religion be, in the hour of death ; to have a firm belief, of entering into everlasting joy. I have a notion of such 24 MEMOIR OF THE LIVE [1798. a thing, but I am sorry to say, I have no real faith in any sort of religion ; it must be a comfort, and support in affliction, and I know enough of life to see, how great a stimulus is wanted, to sup- port through the evils that are inflicted, and to keep in the path of virtue. If religion be a support, why not get it ? lith.— I think it almost impossible to keep strictly to principle, without religion ; I don't feel any real religion ; I should think those feelings impossible to obtain, for even if I thought all the Bible was true, I do not think I could make myself feel it : I think I never saw any person, who appeared so totally destitute of it. I fear I am by degrees, falling away from the path of virtue and truth. ] 6th. — My mind is in a state of fermentation, I believe I am going to be religious, or some such thing. 18th. — I am a bubble, without reason, without beauty of mind or person ; I am a fool. I daily fall lower in my own estimation. What an infinite advantage it would be to me, to occupy my time and thoughts well. I am now seventeen, and if some kind, and great circumstance does not happen to me, I shall have my talents devoured by moth and rust. They will lose their brightness, lose their virtue, and one day they will prove a curse, instead of a blessing. Dreaded day ! ! I must use extreme exertion to act really right, to avoid idle- ness and dissipation. It was on the 4th February, 1798, at the Friends' Meeting at Norwich, that Elizabeth Gumey appears for the first time, to have had her understanding opened to receive the gospel of Christ. The appointed instniment of this, to her most happy and won- derful change, was William Savery, an American Friend, who had come to England to pay what is termed, in the language of Friends, a religious visit to this country. He appears to have been sound in the Christian faith, and to have laid due stress on the great doctrine of the atonement. He was a strict Friend ; earnest in urging a faithful obedience to the immediate guidings of the Spirit of God, yet careful, lest from any want of watchful- ness and humility the youthful mind should be led into error. 1798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 25 From the time of their founder, George Fox, it has been the liabit of Friends to travel occasionally, as ministers or preachers, in their own and other countries. There is needed but a glance - at their origin and tenets ; to perceive, that, this must have formed an integral part of their principles. When George Fox entered upon his remarkable career ; the horizon in these realms was dark indeed ; but lowering as were the clouds which threatened the state ; over the church of Christ, still heavier ones appeared to be impending. The work of the Reformation had been by many considered as incomplete ; though, throughout the reign of Elizabeth they had patiently waited, hoping that her successor, trained in the school of Knox, and the Scottish Reformers, would complete the v»-ork which they conceived to be but just begun. So far from their expectations being realized, James, on many occasions, shewed an obvious leaning to the religion of his mother; and the same spirit was stiU more clearly displayed by his successor, Charles. Under the counsels of Archbishop Laud, the King permitted, if he did not encourage the attempt, to restore many Romish rites and superstitions. Great laxity, even license, was allowed the people in habits and manners ; whilst stringent laws were enforced, to bind men's consciences and produce uniformity of opinion. There were persons, who, though they deplored this state of things, were yet content to pursue a course of personal piety and virtue. Some individuals found in Puritanism, a religion consonant to their feelings ; many embraced the doctrine of the Anabaptists ; but others remained dissatisfied, shrinking from papal darkness, which again threatened to cover the land ; distrustful of the harsh and exclusive spirit of the Puritans, and alarmed at the ex- cesses of the Anabaptists, they sought a deeper life in religion, and a more spiritual worship of Almighty God. Apparently to this juncture, and to this state of feeling, may be attributed the origin of Quakerism. 26 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. The parents of George Fox were members of the Established Church of England ; and for a time he conformed to the external religious observances in which he had been educated ; but his soul panted for the "waters of life," nor could he obtain rest until, to use his own expression, " He who hath the key did open and the Father of Life drew him to His Son by His Spirit."* Having thus been led himself into experimental acquaintance with vital godliness, he desired that others might partake with him, in this glorious pri- vilege ; and from that time, he devoted a large portion of his life to travelling from place to place, to declare "the truth" as presented to his own mind. This chiefly consisted in ui'ging upon his hearers, that the Light of Life was within them, and by obedience to its dic- tates, man might be brought to the saving knowledge of God ; hence, he was led to the conviction, that he was called to bear testimony to the great and neglected Truth, that the "light that lighteneth every man that cometh into the world," must be sought by each individual in the recesses of his own bosom, in silence, in patient waiting, in pureness, in abstraction from outward things ; and that he was to make a consistent protest and passive opposition to every thing that proceeded from the world, and had no savour of Christ. That his dwelling so much upon the doctrine of Christ, being come in the Spirit, was not intended to the disparagement of the doctrine of Christ, having come in the flesh, was proved by the answers he gave to the following questions : he was asked why Christ cried out on the cross, " My God, my God, why hast Thou forsaken me and why He said, " If it be possible let this cup pass from me, yet not my mil, but Thine be done." George Fox replied, " That at that time, the sins of all mankind were upon Him, and their iniquities and transgressions with which He was wounded, and which He was to bear, and be an offering for, as He was man ; but that He died not as He was God. So in that He * George Fox, Folio Journal, p. 7. Third Edition. London, 1765. 1798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 27 died for all men, tasting death for every man, He was au oflFering for the sins of the whole world."* Many gradually united in the views and objects of George Fox ; not that from him they learned the opinions, which they afterwards assisted in promul- gating. They, like himself, desired a something, which they found not, in the persuasions or lofty professions around them. Politics, and prejudice, and party feeling were rife in the land. Godliness as the great concern between man and his Maker, in- dependent of human motive, was scarcely to be met with. Men of observation and earnestness perceived that the pure gold of devotion was everywhere alloyed by selfishness or design, and strove to find in a higher guidance, and the influence of the Divine Light, a spiritual power capable of controlling alike, in- dividuals and nations, and bringing them under obedience to the Law of Christ. To such men, the message of George Fox, was but an illustra- tion or echo of their own sentiments, their own hopes, and expectations. They held that man is able to obey the Divine will, without the help of outward law or ordinances. They looked upon salvation as a free gift, offered to all men. They believed that many would be saved by the Sacrifice of Christ, whose out- ward ears had never heard his name ; through following the guidance of that, which St. John describes as " the light shining in darkness, but the darkness comprehending it not." They insisted on the importance of the Bible, as the rule of life ; but maintained that, until the mind of men be illumined by the life- giving Spirit, it is not able to receive and comprehend its deep realities. Frequently, with their Bibles in their hands, they ex- horted or persuaded, enforcing from this source, instruction and reproof ; but their general mode of worship consisted in silent waiting upon God ; and believing in the immediate teaching of the Holy Spirit, one or another as he considered himself called to * George Fox, Folio Journal, p. 4. Third Edition. London, 1765. 28 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. do so, addi'essed those assembled, in exhortation, or raised his voice in prayer. Among the persons who entertained these opinions, were to be found men, of almost every situation and position in society. The first to proclaim their principles in London, were Edward Burrough, and Francis Howgill ; the former, died in Newgate, under hard and lengthened imprison- ment. The Secretary of IMilton was a Friend, named Thomas Ellwood ; he had been bom a gentleman, and educated as a scholar ; his life is a curious history of the spirit and manners of that time. His account of a visit, before his own change of principles, to the house of Isaac Penington, an eminent writer amongst Friends, is very characteristic. " I mentioned before, that during my father's abode in Lon- don, in the time of the civil wars ; he contracted a friendship with a Lady Springett, then a widow, and afterwards married to Isaac Penington, Esq., to continue which, he sometimes visited them at their country lodgings, (as at Datchet and at Causham Lodge, near Reading). And having heard that they were come to live upon their own estate at Chalfont in Buckinghamshire, (about fifteen miles from Cowell,) he went one day to visit them there, and to return at night ; taking me with him. But very much sur- prised we were, when being come thither, we first heard, then found, they were become Quakers ; a people we had no knowledge of, and a name we had tUl then scarce heard of. So great a change from a free debonair and courtly sort of behaviour (which we formerly had found them in) to so strict a gravity as they now received us with, did not a little amuse us, and disappoint our expectation of such a pleasant \dsit as we used to have, and had now promised ourselves. Nor could my father have any opportunity by a private conference with them, to understand the ground or occasion of this change ; there being some other strangers with them, (related to Isaac Penington) who came that morning from London to visit them also. 1798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 29 " Formypfirt, I sought, and at length found means to cast my- self into the company of the daughter, whom I found gathering some flowers in the garden, attended by her maid ; who was also a Quaker. But when I addressed myself to her, after my ac- customed manner, with intention to engage her in some discourse which might introduce conversation on the foot of our former acquaintance ; though she treated me with a courteous mein, yet, (young as she was) the gravity of her look and behaviour struck such an awe upon me, that I found myself not so much master of myself as to pursue any further converse with her. Wherefore, asking pardon for my boldness in having introduced myself into her private walks, I withdrew ; not without some dis- order (as I thought at least) of mind. We staid dinner, which was very handsome, and lacked nothing to recommend it to me, but the want of mirth and pleasant discourse, which we could neither have with them, nor by reason of them, with one another amongst ourselves ; the weightiness that was upon their spirits and countenances keeping down the lightness that would have been up in us. We staid, notwithstanding, till the rest of the company ^ook leave of them ; and then, we also doing the same, returned, not greatly satisfied with our journey, nor knowing what in particular to find fault with.""* The name of William Penn belongs to history ; as founder of the colony of Pennsylvania, and the personal friend of James II. He united in himself, the qualities of Legislator and Philanthro- pist ; happy would it have been for the Children of the Soil, had the practical lessons he taught, in his humane and enlightened treatment of the Aborigines of North America, been pursued by Lawgivers and Colonists in later days. The early Friends were exposed to much persecution, by im- prisonment, personal ill usage, and the seizure of their property. * Thomas Ellwood's Life, p. 44, printed 1714. 80 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. Whether prelacy or puritanism prevailed, all who differed from those in power, were liable to oppression. During the Protectorate, there were at one time, no less than 4000 Friends imprisoned, for their religious opinions, some for assembling to worship God, in the mode which they believed to be right ; many for not taking off their hats before Magistrates ; others, for refusing to take the oaths of Allegiance and Supremacy, all swearing being by them considered as forbidden in our Saviour's command, " Swear not at all but independently of this scruple against taking any oath, that of supremacy was peculiarly repugnant to their habit of viemng the Church, exclusively under its spiritual aspect, the claim to exercise temporal authority in a spiritual community, seeming to them a profane and carnal intrusion. Some Friends suffered severely, for refusing to fight. Their patient endurance, and unflinching kindness, and attention to one another, through personal risk and difficulty ; extorted from their persecutors, a similar testimony to that borne to the brotherly kindness displayed in the primitive church ; " See how those Christians love one another." It is inconsistent with the declarations of George Fox, or with the line of conduct he pursued ; to suppose, that in the first instance, he entertained the idea of drawing together any separate body of men under a denomination of their own : but spiritual, as were the views entertained by himself, and those, who were of one mind with him, high and holy as was the standard they desired to uprear ; as the number of Friends increased, it became necessary, in order, to effect unity of purpose, and co-ope- ration in action, to establish amongst themselves, a system of Discipline, or Church Government, which, with slight alterations, extends in its ramifications at the present day, throughout all parts of the world, where the Society exists. It embraces a close and minute superintendence of their members, as to moral conduct and religious duties ; integrity in monetary dealings ; the education of their children ; adherence 1798.] OF KLIZABETII FRY. 31 to certain principles peculiar to themselves, but which they deem becoming fruits of the Christian character, and liberal care for the necessities of their own poor. Nor does the benevolence of Friends end here ; they frequently, as a body, have presented addresses to Government, in behalf of the distressed and op- pressed, and have raised considerable sums for their assistance. As individuals, they are active in promoting Schools, and in support- ing the Bible Society. They were faithful adherents of Wilber- force and Clarkson in their lengthened efforts to abolish the slave- trade ; nor was it a novelty to Friends to espouse this cause ; George Fox himself wrote upon the subject of the kind and christian treatment of slaves, to Friends in Barbadoes, " to prepare them for freedom." John Woolman and Anthony Benezet, laboured in America, to convince Friends of the sinfulness of holding slaves ; many joined in these endeavours with such success, that in the latter days of the Society, Friends universally emancipated their slaves, and a law amongst them was established, by which no Friend was permitted to be a slave -holder, on pain of forfeiting his Membership. In the last great struggle for the Abo- lition of Slavery itself, the voice of the Society of Friends arose, as that of one man, they spared neither expense nor exertion to effect the desired object. They united with Sir T. Fowell Buxton, and those christian Philanthropists, who had bound themselves neither to rest nor surrender, till every slave in the British domi- nions, had obtained in his liberty, the inalienable right of man. Hospitals, workhouses, and prisons, share the attention of Friends ; and that not only in their own, but in other countries. William Allen, though pre-eminent, was but one of many, who have travelled and laboured for the good of mankind ; inculcating the benefits of education, of religious tolerance, and a more enlightened system of Penal Justice. Others have extended their missionary journeys to remote countries : within the last few years, we find one, (Daniel Wheeler) visiting the Polynesian 32 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. islands and Australia, and another (James Backhouse) continu- ing for nearly seven years to labour among the settlers and con- victs in that colony, besides a long tarriance in Southern Africa. But, -svhether those journeys are undertaken amongst their own Society, or more extensively pursued, no one is authorised to travel in the " work of the ministry," who has not been acknowledged by Friends as an approved preacher. Even then, the individual is not permitted to travel, until the "concern" has been laid before the Monthly Meeting, to which he belongs. Should it meet with the approbation of the Meeting, a certificate is given to that eflfect, signed by the Clerk of the Meeting, and those of the members who incline to annex their names. Should the journey be likely to prove a long one, or to occupy much space of time, " the Friend under concern," has again to bring the matter before the Quarterly Meeting, to wliich he belongs, and to obtain the concurrence of that larger body, con- sisting of many Monthly Meetings. If the projected journey, be intended to extend beyond his own country, the matter is again laid before the Yearly Meeting of Ministers and Elders, and the countersign of the Clerk of that Assembly is needed to render the document complete. In the present day proselytism enters little, if at all, into the views of Friends. Their labours are chiefly directed among their own body, to arousing the careless, consoling the afilicted, and stimulating the advanced Christian to press forward on his way. Towards those, not Friends, their errand is somewhat different. It is by no means their custom to introduce their peculiar tenets in their religious discourses, but in general terms to urge upon thcii" hearers the dangers and temptations of the world, to re- commend a life of holiness, and to set forth the great truths of Christianity as revealed in the Scriptiares. It was on such a mission that William Savery ■\'isited this Country. He travelled through Great Britain and Ireland, and 1798.] OF ELIZABERII FRY. 33 some parts of the Continent. He was absent from his own country above two years. Elizabeth Gurney was not the only person, to whom his influence was signally beneficial. He possessed considerable natural powers, a cultivated mind, and a heart eminently devoted to the work in which he was engaged. In his own Journal William Savery mentions his visit to Nor- wich : — " Norwich, First-day, ith of the month. Attended their Meeting ; some not members stepped in, and there were about two hundred under oar name ; very few middle aged or young persons who had a consistent appearance in their dress, indeed, I thought it the gayest Meeting of Friends I ever sat in, and was grieved to see it. I expected to pass the Meeting in silent suf- fering, but at length believed it most for my peace to express a little, and through gTacious condescension was favoured to relieve my mind, and many were tendered. Had a meeting in the evening, in a large Meeting-house, in another part of the town : there seem to be but few upright standard-bearers left among the members in this place, yet they are not entirely removed. At- tended the Public Meeting, and the house, though very large, could not contain the people by several hundreds, but considering their crowded situation, many being obliged to stand, they soon became settled, and through mercy it proved a remarkably open, satisfactory Meeting, ending in prayer and praise to the Author of every blessing. The marks of wealth and grandeur are too obvious in several families of Friends in this place, which made me sorrowful, yet I saw but little opening to relieve my mind ; several of the younger branches, though they are enabled, through divine grace, to see what the Truth leads to, yet it is uncertain whether, with all the alluring thing's of this world around them, they will choose the simple, safe path of self-denial."* * AVilliara Savory's Journal, published by Gilpin, 1844, pp. 27-8. VOL I. ' D 34 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. Elizabeth's sister, Eichenda, thus describes this eventful day : — On that day, we, seven sisters, sat as usual in a row, under the gallery, at Meeting ; I sat by Betsy. William Savery was there : we liked having Yearly Meeting Friends come to preach ; it was a little change. Betsy was generally rather restless at meeting ; and on this day, I remember her very smart boots were a great amusement to me ; they were purple, laced with scarlet. At last William Savery began to preach. His voice and manner were arresting, and we all liked the sound ; her attention became fixed : at last I saw her begin to weep, and she became a good deal agitated. As soon as Meeting was over, I have a re- membrance of her making her way to the men's side of the Meet- ing, and having found my father, she begged him if she might dine with William Savery at the Grove,* to which he soon con- sented, though rather surprised by the request ; we went home as usual, and, for a wonder, we wished to go again in the afternoon. I have not the same clear remembrance of this Meeting ; but the next scene that has fastened itself on my memory, is our return home in the carriage. Betsy sat in the middle, and astonished us all by the great feeling she showed. She wept most of the way home. The next morning, William Savery came to break- fast, and preached to our dear sister after breakfast, prophesying of the high and important calhng she would be led into. What she went through in her own mind, I cannot say, but the results were most powerful, and most evident. From that day her love of pleasure and of the world seemed gone. How deep the impression, made upon the mind of Elizabeth, her own journal pourtrays. Sunday, Feburary ^th, 1798. This morning I went to Meeting, though but poorly, because I wished to hear an American Friend, named William Savery. Much passed there of a very * The Residence of her uncle, Joseph Gurney. 1708.] OF ELTZABETH FKY. 85 interesting nature. I have had a faint light spread over my mind, at least I believe it is something of that kind, owing to having been much Avith, and heard much excellence from one who appears to me, a true Christian. It has caused me to feel a little religion. My imagination has been worked upon, and I fear all that I have felt will go off. I fear it now ; though at first I was frightened, that a plain Quaker should have made so deep an impression upon me ; but how truly prejudiced in me to think, that because good came from a Quaker, I should be led away by enthusiasm and folly. But I hope I am now free from such fears. I wish the state of enthusiasm I am now in may last, for to-day I have felt that there is a God ; I have been devotional, and my mind has been led away from the follies that it is mostly wrapt up in. We had much serious conversation ; in short, what he said and what I felt, was like a refreshing shower, falling upon earth, that had been dried up for ages. It has not made me unhappy : I have felt ever since humble. I have longed for virtue. I hope to be truly virtuous ; to let sophistry fly from my mind ; not to be enthusiastic and foolish ; but only to be so far religious as will lead to virtue. There seems nothing so little understood as religion. 6th. — My mind has by degrees flown from religion. I rode to Norwich, and had a very serious ride there ; but meeting, and being looked at, with apparent admiration, by some officers, brought on vanity ; and I came home as full of the world, as I went to town full of heaven. In hearing William Savery preach, he seemed to me to over- flow with true religion, and to be humble, and yet a man of great abilities ; and having been gay and disbelieving only a few years ago, makes him better acquainted with the heart of one in the same situation. If I were to grow like him, a preacher, I should be able to preach to the gay and unbelieving better than to any others, for I should feel more sympathy for them, and know their hearts better. Sunday, 11th. — It is very different to this day week (a day never to be forgotten whilst memory lasts). I have been to Meeting this morning. To-day I have felt all my old irreligious feelings : my object shall be to search, try to do right, and if I D 2 36 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE, SzC. [1798. am mistaken, it is not my fault; but the state I am now in makes it difficult to act. What little religion I have felt has been owing to my giving way quietly and humbly to my feelings ; but the more I reason upon it, the more I get into a labyrinth of uncertainty, and my mind is so much inclined to both scepticism and enthusiasm, that if I argue and doubt, I shall be a total sceptic ; if, on the contrary, I give way to it, and as it were, wait for religion, I may be led away. But I hope that will not be the case ; at all events, religion, true and uncorrupted, is of all comforts the greatest ; it is the first stimulus to virtue ; it is a support under every affliction. I am sure it is better to be so in an enthusiastic degree, than not to be so at all, for it is a delight- ful enthusiasm. 1 5th. — My mind is in a whirl. In all probability I shall go to London. Many, many are the sensations I feel about it, numbers of things to expect. In the first place, leaving home, how truly I shall miss my best of friends, and all of them. (Meaning particularly her brothers and sisters). In the next place, I shall see William Savery most likely, and all those plain Quakers. I may be led away, beware ! my feelings are far more risen at the thought of seeing him than all the play-houses and gaieties in the world. One will, I do not doubt, balance against the other ; I must be careful not to be led away ; I must not overdo myself I dare say it will not be half so pleasant as the Earlham heartfelt gaieties in the Prince's time ; I must be very careful not to get vain or silly, for I fear I shall. Be independent, and do not follow those I am with, more than I think right. Do not make dress a study, even in London. Read in the Bible, when I can ; but if I see William Savery I shall not, I doubt, be over fond of gaieties. I6th. — We went to hear the band, which I am sorry for, as I cannot get courage to tell my father, I wish I had not gone ; I will not go again without his knowing it beforehand. CHAPTER III. Visit to London, gaiety there — Return to Earlham — Decision between religion and the world — Letter from William Savery — Gradual de- velopment of opinion — Journey into Wales and the South of England — Intercourse with Friends — Colebrook Dale — Increasing tendency to Quakerism. In tMs peculiar and awakened state of mind, Elizabeth, with the consent of Mr. Gurney, visited London ; that she might become acquainted for herself with those amusements and fasci- nations that the world offers to its votaries ; that she might have the opportunity of " trying all things,'' and choosing for herself that which appeared to her " to be good." Her father took her to London ; and there, with an old and faithful attendant, left her for some weeks, under the protection and kind care of a relation. She was often interested and amused with the objects that were presented to her notice, but seldom satisfied or approving. The result was, that she returned home entirely decided : — the way of religion chosen, the way of the world rejected ; and from that time, most steadily, though gently, did she continue to advance in the path in which she believed it to be her duty henceforth to walk. February 24!th. — At last landed safely here (London ;) it is very pleasant in some things, very unpleasant in others. On Monday, I do not think it unlikely I shall go to the play. Tuesday, I expect to spend quietly with Dr. Lindoe and Mrs. Good. On Wednesday, I hope to see the Barclays, and to have a dance. On Thursday, I expect to be with Amelia Opie, and so on for different days. 25th. — Although I told William Savery my principles were not Friendly ; yet I fear I should not like his knowing of my going to the play. I think such religion as his must attract an 38 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. atheiat ; and if there were many such Quakers as he is, the Society would soon increase. Monday, 26th. — I went to Drury Lane in the evening. I must own I was extremely disappointed ; to be sure the house is grand and dazzling ; but I had no other feeling whilst there than that of wishing it over. I saw Banister, Mrs. Jordan, Miss Dechamp. I was not at all interested with the play, the music I did not much like ; and the truth is, my imagination was so raised that it must have fallen, had the play been perfect. Tuesday. — I went to the play at Covent Garden, I still con- tinue not to like plays. Wednesday, 28th. — We were out this morning ; I felt proud, vain and silly. In the evening, we had a dance. Thursday, March 1st. — I own I enter into the gay world reluctantly. I do not like plays. I think them so artificial that they are to me not interesting, and all seems so — so very far from pure virtue and nature. To-night I saw Hamlet and Bluebeard ; ! I suppose that nothing on the stage can exceed it. There is ' acting, music, scenery to perfection, but I was glad when it was over ; my hair was dressed and I felt like a monkey. London is not the place for heartfelt pleasure, so I must not expect to find it. 4;th. — I feel uncharitably towards I said uncharitable things of them, and gave way to inclination, for I own I love scandal, though I highly disapprove of it ; therefore it is the more commendable if I overcome it. 5th. — I took a lesson in dancing, and spent the day quietly. 7th. — I went to Meeting in the evening. I have not enough eloquence to describe it. William Savory's sermon was in the first part very affecting, it was from the Revelations ; he explained his text beautifully and awfully, most awfully I felt it ; he next described the sweets of religion, and the spirit of prayer. How he did describe it ! He said, the deist, and those who did not feel devotion looked at nature, admired the thunder, the lightning and earthquakes, as curiosities ; but they looked not up through them to nature's God. How well he hit the state I have been in, I trust I may not remain in it ; his prayer was beautiful, I think I felt to pray with him. 1 7th. — May I never forget the impression William Savory has 1 798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 39 made ou my mind, as much as I can say is, I thank God for having sent at least a gUmmering of light through him into my heart, which I hope with care, and keeping it from the many draughts and winds of this life, may not be blown out, but become a large brilliant flame, that will direct me to that haven, where will be joy without a sorrow, and all will be comfort. I have faith, how much, to gain, not all the treasures in this world can equal that heavenly treasure. That I may grow more and more virtuous, follow the path I should go in, and not fear to acknow- ledge the God whom I worship ; I will try, and I do hope to do what is right. I now long to be in the quiet of Earlham, for there I may see how good I can be, and so I may here, for the greater cross the greater crown ; but I there can reflect quietly and soberly on what has passed, there I hope to regulate my mind, which I know sadly wants it. May I never lose the little religion I now have ; but if I cannot feel religion and devotion, I must not despair, for if I am truly warm and earnest in the cause, it will come one day. My idea is, that true humility and lowliness of heart is the first grand step towards true religion. I fear and tremble for myself, but I must humbly look to the Author of all that is good and great, and I may say humbly pray, that He will take me as a sheep strayed from His flock, and once more let me enter the fold of His glory. I feel there is a God and Immortality ; happy, happy thought ! May it never leave me, and if it do, may I remember I have felt that there is a God and Immortality. 26th. — This morning I went to Amelia Opie's and had a pleasant time. I called on Mrs. Siddons, who was not at home ; then on Doctor Batty ; then on Mrs. Twiss, who gave me some paint for the evening. I was painted a little, I had my hair dressed, and did look pretty for me. Mr. Opie, Amelia, and I, went to the Opera concert. I own, I do love grand company. The Prince of Wales was there ; and I must say, I felt more plea- sure in looking at him, than in seeing the rest of the company, or hearing the music. I did nothing but admire his Royal Highness ; but I had a very pleasant evening indeed. 27th. — I called with Mrs. H , and Amelia, on Mrs. Inchbald. I like her vastly, she seems so clever and so interest- 40 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. ing. I then went to Hampstead, and staid at our cousin Hoare's, until the 12th of April. I returned to Clapham. My uncle Barclay, with great begging, took us to the Opera. The house is dazzling, the company animating, the music hardly at all so, the dancing delightful. H came in, in the middle of the Opera, I was charmed to see him, I was most merry, I just saw the Prince of Wales. Tuesday. — My dearest father came to London, we dined at the , and went to a rout in the evening. Friday. — I had a pleasant merry day, with Peter Pindar (Dr. Walcot). Monday. — I went with my father and the Barclays to Sir George Staunton's. April I6th. — I arrived at home with my father, after paying a few more visits. Thirty years afterwards she thus reviews this important period of life. Dagenham, Seventh Month, 1828. — Here ended this important and interesting visit to London ; where I learned much and had much to digest. I saw and entered various scenes of gaiety ; many of our first public places ; attended balls and other places of amuse- ment. I saw many interesting characters in the world, some of considerable eminence in that day ; I was also cast among a great variety of persons of different descriptions. I had the high advan- tage of attending several most interesting meetings of William Savery, and having at times his company, and that of a few other Friends. It was like the casting die in my life, however, I believe it was in the orderins; of Providence for me, and that the lessons then learnt are to this day valuable to me. I consider one of the important resialts was, the conviction of these things being wrong, from seeing them and feeling their effects. I wholly gave up on my own ground, attending all public places of amusement, I saw they tended to promote evil ; therefore even if I could attend them without being hurt myself, I felt in entering them, I lent my aid to promote that, which I was sure from what I saw, hurt others ; led many from the paths of rectitude and chastity, and brought them into much sin ; particularly those who had to act in plays, sing in concerts. I felt the vanity and folly of what are called 1798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 41 the pleasures of this life, of which the tendency is not to satisfy, but eventually to inervate and injure the heart and mind ; those are only real pleasures which are of an innocent nature, and are used as recreations, subjected to the cross of Christ. I was in my judgment much confirmed in the infinite importance of religion, as the only real stay, guide, help, and comfort, in this life, and the only means of our having a hope of partaking of a better. My understanding was increasingly open to receive its truths ; although the glad tidings of the gospel of Christ were little, very little, if at all understood by me, I was like the blind man ; al- though I could hardly be said to have attained the state of seeing men as trees. I obtained in this expedition a valuable knowledge of human character, from the variety I met with ; this I think was useful to me, though some were very dangerous associates, for so young a person, and the way in which I was protected among them, is in my remembrance very striking ; and leads me to ac- knowledge, that at this most critical period of my life, the tender mercy of my God was marvellously displayed towards me ; and that His all-powerful, though to me then, almost unseen and unknown hand, held me up and protected me. Can any one doubt, that it was His Spirit which manifested to me the evil in my own heart ; as well as that which I perceived around me, leading me to abhor it, and to hunger and thirst after Himself and His righteousness, and that salvation which cometh by Christ. Earlham, April 20th, 1798. — To-day the children brought me a letter from William Savery : I cannot well express what I felt at receiving it. I do not know the course I am to run, all is hid in mystery, but I try to do right in every thing. I feel he gives me a stimulant to virtue ; but I fear by what I expressed in my letter, he suspects I am turning plain Quaker. I hate that he should estimate me falsely. I must remember that on the foundation of the doctrine I believe we agree. I must look to One higher than he ; and if I feel my own mind satisfied I need not fear. Look up to true religion as the very first of blessings, cherish it, nourish, and let it flourish and bloom in my heart ; it wants taking care of, it is diflicult to obtain. I must not despair or grow sceptical, if I do not always feel religious. I felt God as it were, and I must seek to find Him again. 42 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. The letter referred to is as follows : — " 13//t of Fourth Month, 1798. "Dear Friend, " As I left thee unwell, and without having it in my power to take thee affectionately by the hand, as I was much inclined to do ; it gave me great pleasure to receive thy kind letter, which brings no complaint of thy present want of health ; for, I assure thee, I feel interested in thy welfare and happiness every way. My attachment has not been more cordial or agree- able to any young Friend in England, and my heart leaped with joy to find thou art willing to acknowledge a state of hunger and thirst after righteousness, which if thou cherish and dwell in, thou never need to doubt, my dear friend, will eventually be crowned with the enjoyment of the heavenly promise, "thou shalt be filled." Thou art favoured with amiable and benevolent disposi- tions, which I hope thou hast wisely determined shall not be eclipsed by a conformity to the god of this world ; nor enslaved by its rudiments and maxims, its philosophy and vain deceit, but )'ather with a holy magnanimity, regardless of the world's dread laugh ; thou wilt resolve to implore the Omnipotent hand that formed thee for Glory, Immortality, and Eternal Life, to finish the glorious work He has begun, by creating thee anew in Christ Jesus into every good word and work ; and bringing thee under the dominion of His own power and spirit, the finiit of which is love, joy, peace, long-suffering, gentleness, goodness, faith, meek- ness, temperance. ' ' I know, my dear, thou hast and will have many temptations to combat with ; thou wilt, doubtless, be frequently importuned to continue with thy gay acquaintance in pursuit of that unsub- stantial and false glare of happiness, which the world in too bewitching and deceitful colours holds out to the poor, young, unwary traveller, which if he be ensnared with, most certainly ends in blinding the intellectual eye, from discerning the uncon- taminated source of soul-felt pleasure, resulting from a humble heart at peace with its God, its neighbour, and itself Thou asks my advice, my dear friend, and without any premeditation when I sat down, I find I have been attempting it ; but it is very evi- dent, thou art under the especial care of an infinitely better OF ELIZABETH FRY. 43 Instructor, who has ah-eady uttered his soft and heavenly voice to teach thee that the first step towards relio;ion is true humility ; because, in that state only we can feel the need we have of an arm stronger than human to lean upon, to lead us out of, and keep us from polluting things, which hinder our access to, and confi- dence in that boundless source of purity, love, and mercy ; who amidst all the vicissitudes of time is disposed to be our invincible Shepherd, Guardian, and Friend, in whom we may trust and never be afraid ; but this blessed confidence is not, cannot be enjoyed by the gay, the giddy, proud, or abandoned votaries of this world. " It is the peculiar privilege of those, who are sincerely endea- vouring to wash their hands in innocency, that they may compass the altar of God availingly. I have experienced what it is to be under the imperious and slavish dominion of my own uncontrolled passions ; and I know that such a state is abundantly mixed with the wormwood and the gall, and I have been, through adorable mercy, convinced there is an infinitely more happy one to be attained, even in this life ; an enjoyment, under the perfect law of liberty, of that serene state of mind wherein there is no con- demnation, as Paul speaks, the law of the spirit of life in Christ Jesus setting the soul free from the law of sin and death. I do not pretend, my dear friend, to boast myself as having attained such an uninterrupted state, yet the transient foretaste which we partake of, in proportion to our obedience to revealed duty, is enough to inspire the soul of every Christian soldier, so to run through God's mercy and grace, that we may obtain the full and complete enjoyment of it. There are many formal professors of religion, who think to obtain peace with God, by a critical exact- ness and even rigid austerity in outward observances, and outside formalities, as well as many who from constitution or habit are always exhibiting the dark and gloomy side of religion, not having, in my humble opinion, their minds sufiiciently expanded by just conceptions of the adorable love and mercy of God ; and both of these spread a discouraging report of the good land, or of the way which our Heavenly Father has appointed for us to obtain pos- session of it. I speak only my own experience, dear Elizabeth, when I say, that whenever I have found my way more than 44 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. usually strewn with thorns, I have generally discovered on a deep scrutiny of my heart, it has been the fruit of some open or secret departure from the paths of obedience and virtue, so that I am confirmed it is in our own ways we are corrected ; but the ways of the Lord are ways of pleasantness, and all His paths peace. I know very well that the most virtuous, being children of frail humanity, and this world not designed to be the place of their undisturbed rest, but a school of discipline to prepare them for a better, are subject to afihctions as well as others ; still there is this difference in the midst of them all, that while the votary of this world is overwhelmed with murmuring and repining, and agitated with that sorrow which worketh death, under the afl&ic- tive dispensations, that all, more or less, in the wisdom of Provi- dence, for our good must pass through in this life ; the humble Christian believing that even afflictions from His sovereign hand, are mercies in disguise, and that all things shall work eventually for good to them that love and fear Him, are strengthened through the Lord's love and mercy to say, " The cup that my Heavenly Father hath blessed, shall I not drink it ?" " for our light afl^ction which is but for a moment worketh for us a far more exceeding and eternal weight of glory, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen, for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal.'' On the other hand, the temporal enjoyments of this life being sanctified to us by the hand that gave them, and the world used without abusing it, the peace, comfort, and rational enjoyment of them is doubly tasted by the religious and grateful soul. My dear child, my heart is full towards thee, I have written a great deal more than I expected ; but I fain would take thee by the hand, if I were qualified so to do, and ascend, as our Heavenly Father may enable us together, step by step, up that ladder, which reaches from earth to heaven ; but, alas ! my weakness is such, I can only recommend both myself and thee to that good hand, that is able to do more abundantly for us than we can either ask or think ; and bid thee, for the present, in much christian affection, farewell. '.' William Saveky." 1798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 45 April 2'lst — I am so glad I do not feci Earlham at all dull, after the bustle of London ; on the contrary, a better relish for the sweet innocence and beauties of Nature. I hope I may say, I do look " through Nature up to Nature's God." I go every day to see poor Bob, (a servant in a decline, living at a cottage in the Park,) who I think will not live. I once talked to him about his dying, and asked him if he would like me to read to him in the Testament. I told him, I felt such faith in the blessings of Immortality, that I pitied not his state ; it was an odd speech to make to a dying man. I hope to be able to comfort him in his dying hours. I gave some things to some poor people to-day ; but it is not there that I am particularly virtuous, as I only am following my natural disposition. I should be far more so, if I never spoke against any person, which I do too often. I think I am improved since I was last at home ; my mind is not so fly-away. I hope it never will be so again. We are all governed by our feelings ; now the reason why religion is far more likely to keep you in the path of virtue, than any theo- retical plan is, that you feel it ; and your heart is wrapt up in it ; it acts as a furnace on your character, it refines it, it purifies it ; ■whereas principles of your own making are without kindling to make the fire hot enough to answer its purpose. I think a dream I have had so odd, I will write it down. Before I mention my dream, I will give an account of my state of mind, from the time I was fourteen years old. I had very sceptical or deistical principles. I seldom, or never thought of religion ; and altogether I was a negatively good character, having naturally good dispositions, I had not much to combat with ; I gave way freely to the weakness of youth. I was flirting, idle, rather proud and vain, till the time I was seventeen, I found I wanted a better, a greater stimulus to virtue, than I then had, as I was wrapt up in trifles. I felt my mind capable of better things ; but I could not exert it, till several of my friends, without knowing my state, wished I would read books on Chris- tianity ; but I said till I felt the want of religion myself, I would not read books of that kind ; but if ever I did, I would judge clearly for myself, by reading the New Testament, and when I had seen for myself, I would then see what others said. About 46 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. this time, I believe, I never missed a week or a few nights with- out dreaming, I was nearly being washed away by the sea, some- times in one way, sometimes in another; and I felt all the terror of being drowned, or hope of being saved ; at last I dreamt it so often, that I told many of the family what a strange dream I had, and how near I was being lost. After I had gone on in this way for some months, William Savery came to Norwich. I had begun to read the Testament with reflections of my own, and he suddenly, as it were, opened my eyes to see religion ; but again they almost closed. I went on dreaming the dream. The day when I felt I had really and truly got true and real faith, that night I dreamed the sea was coming as usual to wash me away, but I was beyond its reach ; beyond its powers to wash me away ; since that night I do not remember having dreamed that dream. Odd ! It did not strike me at the time so odd ; but now it does. All I can say is, I admire it, I am glad I have had it, and I have a sort of faith in it ; it ought, I think, to make my faith steady, it may be the work of chance, but I do not think it is, for it is so odd not having dreamed it since. What a blessed thought to think it comes from heaven ! May I be made capable of acting as I ought to act ; not being drowned in the ocean of the world, but permitted to mount above its waves, and remain a steady and faithful servant to the God whom I worship. I may take this dream in Avhat light I like, but I must be careful of superstition ; as many, many are the minds that are led away by it. Believe only in what I can comprehend or feel ; don't, don't be led away by en- thusiasm ; but I don't fear. I feel myself under the protection of One, who alone is able to guide me to the path in which I ought to go. 29th. — The human mind is so apt to fly from one extreme to another ; and why is not mine like others ? I certainly seem to be on the road to a degree of enthusiasm, but I own myself at a loss how to act. If I act as they would wish me, I should not humbly give way to the feelings of religion ; I should dwell on philosophy and depend more on my own reason than any thing else. On the contraiy, if I give way to the religious feelings to which I am inclined, (and I own I believe much in inspiration). I feel confident, that I should find true humility and humble wait- 1 798.] OF ELTZABETII FRY. 47 ing on the Almighty the only way of feeling that inward sense of the beauties, and of the comforts of religion ; it spreads a sweet veil over the evils of life ; it is to me the first of feel- ings ; that state of devotion, that absolutely makes you weep, is most fine ! I own my dream rather leads me to believe in, and try to follow the path I would go in. But I should think my wisest plan of conduct would be to warmly encourage my feelings of devotion, and to keep as nearly as I can to what I think right, and the doctrines of the Testament ; not at present to make sects the subject of my meditations, but to do as I think right, and not alter my opinions from conformity, to any one gay or plain. May 8th. — This morning being alone, I think it a good oppor- tunity to look into myself to see my present state, and to regulate myself. At this time the first object of my mind is religion. It is the most constant subject of my thoughts and of my feelings ; I am not yet on what I call a steady foundation. The next feeling that at this present fills my heart, is benevolence and aiFection to many, but great want of charity, want of humility, want of activity ; my inclinations lead me, I hope, to virtue ; my passions are, I hope, in a pretty good state ; I want to set myself in good order, for much time is lost and many evils committed by not having some regular plan of conduct ; I make these rules for myself : — First, — Never lose any time ; I do not think that lost which is spent in amusement or recreation, some time every day ; but always be in the habit of being employed. Second, — Never err the least in truth. Third, — Never say an ill thing of a person, when I can say a good thing of them ; not only speak charitably, but feel so. Fourth, — Never be irritable nor unkind to any body. Fifth, — Never indulge myself in luxuries that are not necessary. Sixth, — Do all things with consideration, and when my path to act right is most difficult, feel confidence in that power that alone is able to assist me, and exert my own powers as far as they go. 19th. — Altogether I think I have had a satisfactory day. I had a good lesson of French this morning, and read much in 48 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1 798. Epictetus. Saw poor Bob, and enjoyed the sweet beauties of nature, which now shine forth ; each day some new beauty arrives. I love the beauty of the country, it does the mind good. I love it more than I used to do. I love retirement and quiet much more since my journey to London. How little I thought six months ago, I should be so much altered ; I am since then, I hope, altered much for the better. My heart may rise in thank- fulness to that omnipotent pow'er, that has allowed my eyes to be opened in some measure to see the light of truth, and to feel the comfort of religion. I hope to be capable of giving up my all, if it be required of me, to serve the Almighty with my whole heart. 21st. — To-day is my birth-day. I am eighteen years old! How many things have happened to me since I was fourteen ; the last year has been the happiest I have experienced for some time. 2Srd. — I have just been reading a letter from my father, in which he makes me the offer of going to London, what a tempta- tion ! but I believe it to be much better for me to be where I am, quietly and soberly to keep a proper medium of feelings, and not to be extravagant any way. 2'ith. — I wrote to my father this morning. I must be most careful not to be led by others, for I know at this time I have so great a liking for plain Friends ; that my affection being so much engaged, my mind may be so also by them. I hope as I now find myself in so wavering a state, that I may judge without pre- judice of Barclay's Apology. 27th. — I must be careful of allowing false scruples to enter my mind. I have not yet been long enough a religionist to be a sectarian. I hope by degrees to obtain true faith ; but I expect I shall lose what I gain, if I am led to actions I may repent of ; remember and never forget my own enthtisiastic feeling nature. It requires caution and extreme prudence to go on as I should do. In the afternoon I went to St. Peters, and heard a good sermon. The common people seemed very much occupied, and wrapt up in the service, which I was pleased to see ; afterwards I went to the cathedral, then I came home and read to the Normans and little Castleton. 17.98.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 49 29th.— I feci weak in mind and body. If I go on approving revealed religion, I must be extremely careful of taking the idle fancies of the brain, for anything so far superior. I believe many mistake mere meteors for that heavenly light, which few receive. Many may have it in a degree, but I should suppose few have it, so as to teach others with authority. June 1st. — I have been great part of this morning with poor Bob, who seems now dying. I read a long chapter in the Testa- ment to him, the one upon death, and I sat with him for some time afterwards. Poor fellow ! I never saw death, or any of its symptoms before ; sad to see, it truly is ; I said a few words to him, and expressed to him how happy we should be in expectation of immortality, and everlasting bliss. Father of mercies, wilt Thou bless him, and take him unto Thee. Though my mind is flat this morning, and not favoured with Thy Spirit in devotion ; yet I exert what I have, and hope it will prove acceptable in Thy sight. Almighty God, Thy will be done and not ours. May I always be resigned to what Thou hast ordered for me ; I humbly thank Thee, for allowing my eyes to be opened, so as even to feel faith, hope and love towards Thee. First and last of every- thing infinite, and not to be comprehended except by Thy Spirit which Thou allowest to enlighten our hearts. 1 2th. — This evening I have got myself rather into a scrape ; I have been helping them to beg my father for us to go to the Guild- dinner, and I don't know whether it is quite what I approve of, or think good for myself; but I shall consider, and do not intend to go, if I disapprove of it. How strange and odd ! I really think I shall turn plain Friend ; all I say is, search deeply ; do nothing rashly ; and I then hope to do right ; they all, I think, now see it — keep up to the duties I feel in my heart, let the path be ever so difiicult ; err not at all if I can avoid it, be humble and constant. I do not like to appear a character I am not certain of being. For a few days past, I have at times felt much religion for me ; humility and comfort belong to it. I often think very seriously about myself A few months ago, if I had seen any one act, as I now do, I should have thought him a fool ; but the strongest proof I can have that I am acting right at the present time is, that I am certainly a better, and I think a happier cha- VOL. I. E 50 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. racter. But I often doubt myself, when I consider my enthusiastic and changeable feelings. Religion is no common enthusiasm, be- cause it is pure, it is a constant friend, protector, supporter, and guardian ; it is what we cannot do well without in this world ; what can prove its excellence so much as its producing virtue and happiness. Hoav much more solid a character I am since I first got hold of religion. I would not part with what I have for any thing ; it is a faith that never will leave my mind, I hope most earnestly. I do not believe it will, but I desire always to be a strictly religious character. ISth. — I have some tlioughts of by degrees increasing my plan for Sunday evening ; and of having several poor children, at least, to read in the Testament and religious books for an hour. I have begun with Billy ; but I hope to continue and increase one by one. I should think it a good plan ; but I must not even begin that hastily. It might increase morality among the lower classes, if the Scriptures were oftener and better read to them. I believe I cannot exert myself too much, there is nothing gives me such satisfaction as instructing the lower classes of people. 2ith. — I persevered in going to Meeting this afternoon. Coming home, I saw a scene that indeed interested me, my father jump - ing into the water at the New Mills, after a poor boy whom I thought drowned ; my feelings were great indeed, both for my father and the boy. I believe I should have leapt in afterwards, if my father had gone out of sight ; he did it delightfully, with such activity and spirit, it was charming to see him. Poor little boy ! I took him as soon as he was out of the water ; it agitated me extremely. July 9th. — How little is the mind capable of really feeling that we are all in the presence of God, who overlooks every action. Should we not tremble when we think of it ? How many faults do we commit ? It is impossible, without the assistance of His almighty power to comprehend it. We could never be wicked, while we felt ourselves in the presence of the Almighty. Virtue alone can make this thought a happy one. 20th. — I suppose we shall go off to-morrow on our journey. We expect the Opies and Bartlett Gurney to dinner. It is my wish to do my lesson with Le Sage, and the first thing after- 17.08.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 51 wards attend to my father ; read to Mrs. Norman ; saw nurse Norman ; walk to Colney about Billy ; came home, set my tilings in the greatest order. Evening. — I have been confused by the thoughts of going and company. How much do I fear for myself this journey. During the summer, Mr. Gurney, with his seven daughters, took a journey into Wales and the south of England. Elizabeth delighted in nature, and dwelt with pleasure on the beautiful scenery they passed through ; but to the works of man, however imposing, she was comparatively indifferent. She visited cathe- dral cities ; she saw scenes of high historic interest : castles, whose walls could reveal dark tales of bye-gone days ; but she scarcely mentions them, and if she notices them at all, it is but to draw some moral inference. In visiting the Dock -yards, at Plymouth, and beholding one of the noblest instances of man's power and skill, a first-rate man-of-war, in perfect order, and equipped for sea, she considers the effects of war, and its influences on the human race. But by far the greatest interest, afforded her by this journey, was the prospect of seeing different Friends, and becom- ing better acquainted with them and their principles. The tra- vellers paid a visit to Colebrook Dale, the residence of the well- known Christian philanthropist, Richard Reynolds, there she was left for some days, with her cousin, Priscilla Hannah Gximey. This lady was cousin to the Gumeys of Earlham, by both their father and mother, her father being Joseph Gurney, and her mother Christiana Barclay. She was exactly the person to attract the young ; she possessed singular beauty and elegance of manner, a figure small, but perfect, her eyes of great brilliancy and expression. She was of the old school, and tinged with its forms and dignities ; her costume partook of this, and her long retention of the black hood, gave much character to her appear- ance. She early renounced the world and its fascinations, left Bath, where her mother and sister, Christiana Gurney resided, E 2 52 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. became eventually a minister among Friends, and found a con- genial retreat for many years at Colebrook Dale. The influence of this visit upon Elizabeth was very powerful. A place more likely to interest her ; persons more suited to her state of mind, could not have been, than Colebrook Dale, and the residents there. Richard Reynolds, at that time advanced in years, was as a patri- arch among his family, his friends, and dependents. He devoted a large proportion of a noble fortune, acquired by honourable industry, to objects of benevolence. His extensive iron -works were carried on with careful attention to the moral good of those emjjloyed in them. Several valuable Friends resided at Colebrook Dale, connected with each other in business, or by marriage, or the stronger bond of similarity • of taste and principle. They were a happy, united band. Christian love prevailing amongst themselves, and towards others.- It is sad to think among the changes of life, how many of this pleasant community have passed away. Farnham, July 26tJi. — To-night I am much tired, quite fagged, body and mind, and the text comes strongly before me, " Blessed are they that moui'n, for they shall be comforted,'' for though I feel weak in body, I have truly • support in mind. God is a merciful Father, and when His children (though evil like me), mourn. He will comfort them, and preserve them, if they will exert their own powers also, to serve Him in spirit and in truth. How often I fail. He is never-failing, no, never ! He makes the sun to rise on the just and on the unjust, and we acknow- ledge not His blessings, but lament over the few clouds that shade its brightness : and sometimes murmur at the Lord that made us. Weak mortals ! and I am weak indeed. But I feel I have to deal with a merciful Father. Weymouth, 29th. — We dined here, and after dinner went on the sea. I always feel rather afraid when there, for I consider that if the least accident were to happen, I should be drowned ; and I do not know if it be right only for pleasure to run the risk 1798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 53 of one's life. I always feel doubtful of ever seeing land again ; but I believe it to be partly unwise cowardice ; if duty led me to it, I do not think I should fear. Some minds, by nature, are more cowards than others, and require more faith to overcome it. This evening, I am sorry to say, I feel a hankering after the world and its gaieties : but what real satisfaction is there in being admired ? I am uncertain about my going to the Rooms to-morrow. I should not object, I think, if no expense follow it ; but if I can keep away I will do so ; I have been considering, and believe this subject requires real thought. I hear there is to be a ball, and I don't doubt we may go : if I go, I shall enter the world and fall very likely into some of its snares. Shall I feel satisfied in going, or most satisfied in staying at home ? I believe in staying at home. The worst of all will be, I shall have to contradict the will of all the others, and most likely to disappoint my father by not going ; there is the rub, if I don't go, perhaps he will not let the others go. I think I shall leave it on these grounds ; if I can stay at home in any way, do ; but if I cannot without vexing my father I must go, and try not to be hurt by it. Dawlish, August 3rd. — This morning Kitty came in for us to read the Testament together, which I enjoyed : I read my favourite chapter, the 15th of Corinthians, to them. Oh ! how earnestly I hope that we may all know what truth is, and follow its dictates : I still continue my belief that I shall turn plain Quaker. I used to think, and do now, how very little dress matters ; but I find it almost impossible to keep up to the principles of Friends mthout altering my dress and speech. I felt it the other day at Weymouth : if I had been plain, I should not have been tempted to have gone to the play, which at all events I would not do ; plainness appears to be a sort of protection to the principles of Christianity in the present state of the world. I have just received a letter from Anna Sa,very, and have been answering it, and have written rather a religious letter, which I mean to show them, though it is to me a cross, as I say in it I think I am a Quaker at heart. I hope it will not hurt them ; but it is better to be on clear grounds with my best friends, upon that which so nearly in- terests me. I know it hurts Hachel and John the most. Rachel has the seeds of Quakerism in her heart, that if cultivated, would 54 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. grow indeed, I ha\'e no doubt. I shotdd never be surprised to see us all Quakers. 4th. — I have been having such a morning with Chrissy Gumey, I do really love her ; she makes me more of a Quaker than any one I ever was with. She certainly is the most interesting Avoman I ever met, quite one after my own heart ; she is to me indescribable. It is odd to me, and I believe it is to herself, that she is not a Quaker. But she is good without it, not but what I think she would be happier with it. I have very little doubt I shall gain from her ; I quite feel leaving this place. Pli/mouth Dock, 8th. — After a good night, as soon as break- fast was over, we went to see the ropes made at the Docks, which was a most curious sight. How thankful I should be, that for all my constant erring from the path of truth, I am yet some- times allowed to feel I have an Arm to lean upon, superior to human, that will support me in time of trouble. After leaving the Dock-yards, we went on board a ferry, and I felt rather afraid, to my shame. We then went to see a Review, which I feel rather imcertain if it were right for me to go to, as I so highly disapprove of war ; but I believe whilst I appear as other people, I must act as they do, unless without the gi'eatest difficulty. I do not alter from confonnity, but from conviction. Afterwards we went to Lord Mount Edgecumbe's, a very fine place, but I was not in the mind for it. Am I right or not ? they have just been to say, an officer has come for us to hear a very famous Marine Band ; and I do not go, because I have some idea it is wrong, even to give countenance to a thing that inflames men's minds to destroy each other ; it is truly giving encouragement, as far as lies in my power, to what I most highly disapprove, therefore I think I am right to stay at home. I will now go on with an account of the day. We went on board a man-of-war with Judd (their maid) and the men-servants ; it was a fine but melancholy sight. I may gain some information by it, but it is not what I quite approve of, the same as the band ; my heart feels most anxious this night that I may go right, for strait and narrow is the path that leadeth to eternal life ; and broad is the way that leadeth to destruction. I must remark, before finishing this journal, that I feel much satisfaction attending not going to the 1798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 55 Review, a thing my heart is so much set upon as military music ; as soon as I determined, in my own mind, to give it up, inclina- tion vanished, and now would lead me to stay at home. If I look at it, my path is clearer than I think ; for it ought to give me comfort and hope, that in so small a thing I feel so much satisfaction, and help me forward in my journey to that haven, where alone comfort is to be found. Ivy Bridge, 9th. — The first thing we undertook this morning was to see the Dock-yards, which is a sight too astonishing to describe. But after all the art, expense and trouble, that men put themselves to, what do they gain, but the destruction of their fellow-creatures ? After that we went by water to Plymouth, and saw many Friends ; but one very plain, who was agreeable to us all, even interesting. As I left Plymouth, my mind felt deeply hurt on account of the poor sailors and women, of whom I have seen a sad number, and longed to do them good, to try one day to make them sensible of the evil state they appear to be in. Just at that time, I read or thought of that passage in the Testament, where it says, " we are to look upon all men as greater than our- selves." Christ truly taught humility, and I reflected that, in all probability, if I had had the same temptations, I should have been equally wicked ; for I am sorry, indeed, to say, I fear I mostly give way to temptation, when it falls in my way. Ah ! much, much have I to do, much to strive for, before I shall be able to feel my house is built upon a rock. I know how weak is its present foundation ; but this night my mind is cheered by the brighten- ing light of religion. Clifton, loth. — This morning I have seen much beautiful country about Clifton. I think it very likely we shall go to the Wales Half- Yearly Meeting, where I expect we shall meet most of the Colebrook Dale Friends, whom I quite long to see. We have been a pleasant excursion this afternoon, to a Mr. Harford's ; I had an interesting drive home, and thought about serious subjects. I often think of home with a longing heart, to set off once more quietly in my career. Ross, 16th. — We have travelled far to-day; I set out rather thinking I should have Mrs. B 's company, which I had, and enjoyed at times much ; experience teacheth knowledge. I think 56 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. her in all respects not sufficiently practical, but too theoretical. I don't like her theories, she appears to me to think too highly of bringing the things of this world (that do not in my opinion lead to happiness), to perfection. If too much attended to, I think it loss of time ; and of course I believe, though she has much religion, that this prevents her enjoying it as much as she would otherwise do ; for, those who depend too much on this vrorld, arc apt not to depend sufficiently on the one to come. Some sweet and beautiful scenes we saw from Gloucester to Eoss, by moon- light, which I enjoyed. AhQrgavenny, 18th. — We went one stage before breakfast from Usk to Pontypool ; as soon as we got there, we saw two plain Friends, they both preached ; my mind had some devotional feel- ings, which I felt a blessing. I remained and dined with them, and a little of that peculiar love, I feel towards plain Friends, sprung up in my heart for them. Before the afternoon Meeting, I went with Mrs. B to call on Lady M . I own I felt very uncomfortable, I felt as if I were too much a Friend with Friends, and worldly with other people. I then Vi'ent to Meeting and had a very serious reflecting time. I thought I should be acting a better part to say thee instead of you, to other people when I could, for I felt myself to-day, one minute saying thee, the next you ; it appeared hypocritical. I had an argument in my own mind, which I will try to remember ; I first thought how could there be any difference, in the Christian virtue of saying you or thee to people. I considered there were certainly some advantages attending it ; the first, that of weaning the heart from this world, by acting in some little things differently from it. But I then thought, is it not better to be remarkable for ex- cellence of conduct, than for such little peculiarities. I find that if in a perfect state, such things would not signify, but we are in an imperfect state ; and our virtue is hard to maintain, without some fortress to support it ; we must combat with imperfection, and at times be obliged to make great things of little things, and use them as arms to defend us from the many wiles and snares of the world. Landaly, 21si. — A gentleman dined with us, to whom I did not attend, till I discovered he was Lord . Oh pride how it does creep in upon me, 1798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 57 Aherystwith, 23rc?. — Is dancing wrong ? I have just been dancing ; I think there are many dangers attending it, it may lead to vanity and intemperance. But I think, in a family ; and in an innocent way, it may be of use by the bodily exercise ; it animates the spirits, and produces good effects. I tliink dancing and music the first pleasures in life. The more the pleasures of life are given up, the less we love the world, and our hearts will be set upon better things ; not but that we are allowed, I believe, to enjoy the blessings Heaven has sent us. We have power of mind suffi- cient to distinguish the good from the bad ; for under the cloak of pleasure, infinite evils are carried on. The danger of dancing, I find is throwing me off ipy centre ; at times when dancing, I know that I have not reason left, but that I do things which in calm moments I miast repent of. I went and bathed, which required much exertion of courage. After dinner, we went to the Devil's Bridge. I was much pleased with the beautiful scenery : but as we were climbing down the rocks, which appeared almost perpendicular over the fall of water, I was taken with the most painful sensation of fear, and dared not go another step, but sat down and thought I should have fainted ; if I had, I must have fallen to the bottom. After we arrived safely home to a sort of little inn, where we slept, we had a very happy evening ; for we were wet, and were obliged to put on our dressing gowns, and sit over a fine turf fire, in the public-house ; singing, and being sung to, by the interesting Welch inhabitants. Caernarvon, 27th. — After a good breakfast, we set off on our journey. The first few miles I shall find very difficult to describe, for such a scene I had not an idea of ; all surrounded with rocky mountains, lost in the clouds as they passed by them. Sometimes we were on the edge of a precipice, sometimes on the borders of a river, where the road was cut out of the rock, and high moun- tains on each side, now and then the wild goats straying over them. We were obliged to walk part of the way, which was trying to me, as I had the tooth-ache. Since I have been here, I have had a Welch harper, which I was not quite sure was right, as it was giving, or at least caiising money to be given, that might have been spent much better. 2Sth. — My mind is in an uncomfortable state this morning ; 58 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. for I am astonished to find I have felt a scruple at music, at least I could not otherwise account for my feelings ; but my mind is rather uneasy after I have been spending time in it. These cannot be sensations of my own making, or a contrivance of my own forming, for I have such happiness when I overcome my worldly self ; and when I gave way to it, am uneasy ; not but what I think feelings are sometimes dangerous to give way to ; but how odd, yet how true, that much of human reason must be given up. I don't know what to think of it, but I must act somehow, and in some way ; yet do nothing rashly or hastily, but try to humiliate myself to true religion ; and endeavour to look to God who alone can teach me and lead me right ; have faith, hope, and if little things are to follow to protect greater ones, I must, yes, I must do it. I feel certainly happier in being a Quaker, but my reason contradicts it. Now my fears are these, lately I have had Quakerism placed before me in a very interesting and delight- ful light ; and is it unlikely that inclination may put on the appearance of duty ? Now my inclination may, before long, lead me some other way ; that is a sad foundation to build the fortress upon which must defend me through life ; but I think I am wrong in one thing, though it is right to doubt myself ; yet do I not make myself more uneasy, for fear I should be a ridiculous object to the world, and some of my dear friends. I believe I can give myself a little advice, not to promote any thing leading to unquakerism ; but try if it make me happy or not, and then take greater steps if I like. Colebrook Dale, Zlst. — Cousin Priscilla's room. This evening I am at Colebrook Dale, the place I liave so much wished to be at. I had rather a comfortable drive here from Shrewsbury ; read in the Testament, and got by heart one or two verses. I felt it a great pleasure to see cousin Priscilla ; but my heart has not been enlarged towards this sweet set. We have taken a long walk this afternoon. It brings me into a sweet state, being with plain Friends like these, a sort of humility. I expect to be here some days, which I delight in. I feel this evening in a calm, and rather religious state of mind. I am blessed a little to feel the ex- istence of my Father who is in heaven ; and I have some hope I may one day be confined in the sheep fold, and not stray from 1798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 59 the flock. I hope I shall, and I may ; for thanks be to the Almighty, He has formed us for eternal glory, if we will be sufficiently melted down to be moulded into the right form. September 2nd. — I cannot easily describe that which I would, for I know not in my own mind what my feelings exactly are. This morning when breakfast was over, I had some talk with Priscilla, and then we sat down to read the account of a young woman of the name of Rathbone, to me striking and interesting : how well was she assured of Immortality ; how clearly did she see her path to Heaven, happy, happy woman ! Blessed, ah blessed is thy fate ! may we also be permitted to accompany thee to glory, immortality and eternal life, with our God and our Saviour ; shall I ever be sensible of deserving immortal glory ; too great a blessing I fear for me and my weak self ever to obtain. For hard is the task and narrow is the road that leadeth thereunto. We then went to Meeting, my mind was clouded, but now and then a small ray enlightened it. Between the two Meetings, I read again with cousin Priscilla, and all my sisters, that account of the young woman. Hard is the task of dedicating the heart unto God ; I fear, yet I hope I may with assistance one day so fortify it, as to become a defender of truth and religion. After the afternoon Meeting, we drank tea at Deborah Darby's ; I felt much love towards her, and her friend Appleboy particularly ; I felt gratified when she said William Savery had mentioned me to her, and that Rebecca Young, who was out, was sori-y she could not see me ; there is little, ah little indeed in me ! When we came home this evening, my father took me aside and gave me some good advice ; to beware of passion and enthusiasm, which I hope I do most earnestly pray I may be ; for truly they are snares of the enemy. 3rd. — Got up late. Heard Deborah Darby was here, and went down ; during breakfast, I felt my heart beat much ; as soon as it was over, Deborah Darby preached in a deep, clear, and striking manner. First, she said, God would visit us all, and did visit us ; that God was a Father to the fatherless, and a Mother to the motherless ; my mind felt deeply oppressed by it. She then addressed me in particular ; I do not remember her words, but she expressed, first, I was, as I am, sick of the world ; 60 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. and looked higher (and I believe I do,) and that I was to be dedicated to my God, and should have peace in this world, and glory everlasting in the world to come. Could more satisfaction be given ? let me be thankfiil, P really cried, and I think never felt s\ich inward encouragement. Let me be a worthy servant of my Master who is in heaven. May I, Oh ! may I do right. My father has given me leave to stay till Fourth-day morning, kind he truly is. He spoke to me again this morning. I feel myself highly favoured is all I can say, and may my heart bow before its Maker now and ever more ! After they all went, I came and Avrote my journal, and sat with cousin Priscilla, and we read till dinner. After that we sat again together with the children, and ■went on with some letters interesting to me, from that young woman to Richard Reynolds. This afternoon I was at the Darbys. I have felt as it were tinctured with the goodness of those I have been with ; but little I own. Oh my inward tempta- tions, shall I ever overcome you ! Priscilla Gurney I feel my constant little friend, dearly indeed do I love her. 4^/l. — After tea, we went to the Darbys, accompanied by my dear friend Richard Reynolds, and still dearer Priscilla Gumey. We had spent a pleasant evening, when my heart began to feel itself silenced before God, and without looking at others, I found myself under the shadow of His wing, and I soon discovered that the rest were in the same state : I was persuaded that it must be that which I felt. After sitting a time in awful silence, Rebecca Young spoke most beautifully, she touched my heart, and I felt melted and bowed before ray Creator. Deborah Darby then spoke, what she said was excellent, she addressed part of it to me ; I only fear she says too much of what I am to be. A light to the blind ; speech to the dumb ; and feet to the lame ; can it be ? She seems as if she thoiight I was to be a minister of Christ. Can I ever be one ? If I am obedient, I believe, I shall. Merridon, 5th. — I rose this morning about five o'clock, I did not feel so much as I expected lea\ang Colebrook Dale. There is a mountain for me to climb over, there is a sacrifice for me to make ; before I am favoured with faith, virtue, and assurance of immortality. 1 feel it would appear so like conformity to the opinions of others, to alter just after being with these Friends, 1798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. Gl but I think that it is a time to do so, for strength and courage have been given me. This day I have said thee instead of you ; but still go on soberly and with consideration. Coventry, 6th. — I rose in good time to write to Priscilla Gurney, and felt in a state of darkness and discouragement about my language, but I am happy to say my mind again feels clear. I dare not draw back. I hope to continue in the habit with spirit, and if by yesterday week I have kept up to it, and then feel dis- couraged, I may give it up. I felt saying thee very difficult to-day to Mrs. , but I perceived it was far more so after I sang to them. I altogether get on pretty well, but doubts came into my mind this morning ; yet were I not to persevere I should, I believe, feel unhappy in it. How shall I say thee to H in Norwich ! It will I think make me lose all my dissipation of character, and be a guard upon my tongue. Earlham, 9th. — My father, Kitty, and myself set out early this morning for Newmarket. When I was there, I saw Henry B ; my sensation was odd when I saw him, for I took to my heels and ran away. I thought I could not get courage to address him in the plain lang-uage ; but after I collected myself, I did it without much difficulty. How easy it has been made to me ! By what nice degrees I have entered it, but I believe the hardest part is to come ; I have felt the advantage of it, though at times in a dark and discouraging state. It makes me think before I speak, and avoid saying much, and also avoid the spirit of gaiety and flirting. • CHAPTER IV. 1798 — 1800. Return to Earlham — Attention to the Poor — Kindness to others — Appearance — Journey to the North of England — Visit to the Friends' School at Ackworth — Becomes a plain Friend — Proposals of Marriage from Mr. Fry — Letter to her cousin, Joseph Gurney Bevan — Letter to a young Friend. Mr. Gurney and his family returned home in September, 1798 ; Elizabeth, undoubtedly strengthened in her desire to become a plain Friend, though scrupulously careful not to ad- vance one step hastily, or to oppose the wishes of her brothers and sisters on any point, in which she could yield to them an easy conscience. She has resumed her usual habits of self- occupation and usefulness to others ; visiting and relieving the poor, both at Earlham and in Norwich, especially the sick ; reading the Bible to them and instructing their children. Her school too, gradually increased from the small beginning of one little boy, to so great a number, that her teaching them in the house became inconvenient, and a vacant laundry was appro- priated to this purpose. She had at last above seventy scholars without assistance, without monitors, without even the countless books and pictures of the present day ; how she controlled the wills and fixed the attention of so many unruly children, must ever remain a mystery to those who have not the gift she pos- sessed, of influencing the minds of others. Nor was her attention confined to the poor, where any little kindness seemed needed, there she delighted to offer it. A cir- cumstance marking this trait in her character, was related a few years ago to one of her family, by a lady, the widow of an oflicer, who was living alone in a small house near Norwich, about 1798, 1798.] MEMOIR OF THE LIFE, &C. 63 during her husband's absence. Her income was limited ; she was young, and had few acquaintances. It was during her con- finement with her first child that she was surprised by a loud ring at the bell. Her servant came running up stairs with a basket in her hand, and in the broad dialect peculiar to Norfolk, informed her mistress that it had been left by " a beautiful lady on horse- back, in a scarlet riding habit," whose servant had told her it was Miss Elizabeth Gurney. The basket contained a chicken and some little delicacies ; and the same attentions were repeated, although she personally was a stranger to Elizabeth and her family. We have no exact knowledge of the time when the scarlet riding habit was abandoned ; nor is it easy to ascertain by what gradations she became a Friend in outward appearance. She was slow in adopting the costume ; she first laid aside all ornament, then she chose quiet and inconspicuous colours, and had her dresses made with perfect simplicity. As late as the spring of 1799, an eye-witness describes her in a plain slate-coloured silk dress ; but a black lace veil twisted in the turban fashion of the day, with her long blonde hair, the ends hanging on one side. Earlham, 10th September. — "We arrived last night from our long, and in some respects, delightful journey. So far from hurting me, I hope it will act as a fresh stimulus to virtue and religion, at least it should ; I have had some bright and clear times that should not be forgotten. I felt quite in a flutter, expecting H and Dr. Alderson to dinner ; they came, and I had little difficulty in saying, thee ; so do such evils vanish, if duty support us. In the afternoon, I had a very serious talk with Kitty about my being a Friend. She thinks that my judgment is too young and inexperienced to be able to take up any particular opinions ; she may be right. I am willing to give up the com- pany of Friends and their books, if she request it ; but I do firmly believe my mind will never be easy or happy unless I am a Quaker. 6i MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. 14^^. — I know I am not able to judge, and all I pray for is, faith, humility and patience ; and I hope, if ill or well, to do the will of God. May, Oh may I ! is the inmost prayer of my heart. I must try not to fear ; what will not faith do for us ! It would ^ead us to all happiness, but works are required, and I believe true faith hardly attainable without them. ' 27th. — This evening I have been doing exercises, and singing with them ; my mind feels very clear to-night and my body much better. I have been thinking about singing, I hope in that, as in every thing else, to do what is right. I cannot say I feel it wrong to sing to my own family, it is sweet and right to give them pleasure. I do not approve of singing in company, as it leads to vanity and dissipation of mind ; but that I believe I have no occasion to do, as dear Rachel does not request it, for she does not like it herself I should be sorry quite to give up sing- ing, as the gift of nature, and on her account : as long as it does not lead me from vrhat is right, I need not fear. Wth. — I have much enjoyed the company of my dear boy Sammy this evening, I think we shall always feel much love for each other ; young as he is, I love him particularly. Afterwards we received a letter from dear Priscilla Gurney. October 5th. — In the evening a fiddler came, we all had a dance, I had the tooth-ache, and so from its making me merry, it made me ofrave. I do not feel satisfaction in dancino-. a O 6th. — Tliis morning I awoke not comfortable, the subject of dancing came strongly before my mind. Totally declining it, as a matter of pleasure I do not mind, only as I am situated with the others I find it difficult ; the question is, if these, may not be scruples of my own forming, that I may one day repent of ? The bottom of my heart is inclined to Quakerism, and I know what imagination can do. I believe the formation of my mind is such that it requires the bonds and ties of Quakerism to fit it for im- mortality. I feel it a very great blessing being so little in the company of superior fascinating Quakers ; because it makes me act freely and look to the only true Judge, for what is right for me to do. The next question I ask myself is, am I sufficiently clear, that dancing is wi'ong, to give it up ! because I know much precaution is quite necessary. I believe I may if I like, make 1798.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 65 one more trial, and judge again how I feel ; but I must reflect upon it, determining to give it up, if I think right. I wish to make it a subject of very serious reflection, hoping, as usual, to do right ; it will hurt them much I fear, but time I believe will take that off", if they see me more happy and better for it. Let me redouble all kindness to them. seems to wish I would give up my correspondence with Anna S , which I think I may do. This day has been very comfortable in most respects, though I have not done much. I have finished my letter to my dear cousin Priscilla, and that to Mrs. ; but I cannot feel quite easy to send it, without first speaking to my father, for I do believe it is my duty to make him my friend in all things, though I think it probable, he mil discourage me in writing to my friend Sophy, yet never keep any thing from him ; but let me be an open, true, kind, and dutiful daughter to him, whilst life is in my body. ] 2th. — I have many great faults, but I have some dispositions I should be most thankful for. I believe I feel much for my fellow-creatures ; though I think I mostly see into the mind of those I associate with, and am apt to satirise their weaknesses ; yet I don't remember ever being any time with one who was not extremely disgusting, but I felt a sort of love for them, and I do hope I would sacrifice my life for the good of mankind. My mind is too much like a looking-glass — objects of all kinds are easily reflected in it whilst present, but when they go, their reflection is gone also. I have a faint idea of many things ; a strong idea of few ; therefore my mind is cultivated badly. I have many strag- gling, but not many connected ideas. I have the materials to form good in my mind, but I am not a sufficiently good artificer to unite them properly together, and make a good consistence ; for in some parts, I am too hard, in others, too soft. I hope and be- lieve the great Artificer is now at work, that if I join my power to the only One who is able to conduct me aright, I may one day be better than I am. 1 7th. — My journal has not gone on well of late ; partly owing to my going out, and having people in this room, now there is a fire ; I dislike going out, what my mind wants, is peace and quiet. The other night, as I was alone in a carriage, a fine star- light night, I thought, what is it I want ? how •! overflow with VOL. I. r 66 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1798. the blessings of this world ; I have trae friends, as many as I wish for ; good health, a happy home, with all that riches can give, and yet all these are nothing without a satisfied conscience. At times I feel satisfied, but I have not reason to feel so often ; oh, that I could ! perhaps this night, with constant exertion all day, I may feel that first of feehngs. It is now afternoon. — I woke in a bad mind, but I am happy to say I overcame it, by doing as I thought right, which appeared at once to turn the scale from dulness to liveliness ; from a bad mind to a good one. This afternoon I have much to correct, I feel proud, vain and disagreeable ; not touched with the sweet humility of Christi- anity ; nor is my heart enlightened by its happy doctrines. I have now two things heavily weighing on my mind : dancing and singing, so sweet and so pretty do they seem ; but as surely as I do either, so surely does a dark cloud come over my mind. It is not only my giving up these things, but I am making the others miserable, and laying a restraint upon their pleasures. In the next place, Am I sure I am going upon a good foiindation ? if I am doing right, God wiU protect me and them also ; If I am doing wi'ong, what foundation do I stand upon ? None : then aU to me is nothing. Let me try to take my thoughts from this world, and look to the only true Judge. I believe singing to be so natural, that I may try it a little longer : but I do think dancing may be given up. What particularly led me to this state, was our hanng company, and I thought I must sing ; I sang a little, but did not stay with them during the playing. My mind con- tinued in a state of some agitation, and I did not sleep till some time after I was in bed. I9th. — My mind feels more this morning, if any thing, than it did last night. Can such feelings be my own putting on ? they seem to affect my whole fe"ame, mental and bodily ; they cannot be myself, for if I were to give worlds, I could not remove them ; they truly make me shake. When I look forwards I think I can see ; if I have strength to do as they direct, I shall be another person : sorrow, I believe, will remove to be replaced by joy ; then let me now act ! My best method of conduct will be to tell Rachel how I am situated in mind, and then ask her what she would advise ; and be very kind and tell her the true state of the 17.98.] OP ELIZABETH FRY. 67 case. Is it worth while to continue in so small a pleasure for so much pain ? The pleasure is nothing to me, but it is a grand step to take in life. — I have been and spoken to Rachel, saying I think I must give up singing. It is astonishing the total change that has taken place, from misery I am now come to joy : I felt ill before, I now feel well ; thankful should I be for being directed, and pray to keep up always to that direction. After having spoken to my darling Rachel, where I fear I said too much, I rode to Norwich after some poor people ; I went to see many, and added my mite to their comfort. Nothing I think could exceed the kindness of my dear Rachel. Though I have no one here to encourage me in Quakerism, I believe I must be one before I am content. 1th December. — Yesterday evening, I went to the Iduranium. I have had a letter to say my dear friend William Savery is arrived safely in America. Kitty and I, have been having a long talk together this evening upon sects ; we both seem to think them almost necessary. It is long since I have what I call truly written my journal ; writing my journal, is to me expressing the feelings of my heart during the day ; I have partly given it up from the coldness of the weather, and not having a snug fire to sit by. I wish now, as I have opportunity to look a little into the present situation of my heart ; that is the advantage of writing a true journal, it leads the mind to look inwards. Of late I do not think I have been sufficiently active, but have given rather way to a dilatory spirit. I have been reading Watts's Logic, it tells me how ill-regulated are my thoughts, they ramble truly ! Regularity of thought and deed is what I much want ; I appear to myself to have almost a confusion of ideas, which leads to a confusion of actions ; I want order ; I believe it difiicult to obtain, but yet with perseverance attainable. The first way to obtain it, appears to me, to try to prevent my thoughts from rambling, and to keep them as steadily as possible to the object in view. True religion is what I seldom feel, nor do I sufiiciently try after it by really seeking devotion : I do not warmly seek it, I am sure, nor do I live in the fear of an all-wise Being who watches over us ; I seldom look deep enough, but dwell too much on the surface of things, and let my ideas float. Such is my state. I can't tell how I feel exactly : at times all seems to me mystery ; F 2 68 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1799. " when I look at the heavens the work of Thy fingers, the moon and the stars which Thou hast ordained, what is man th:;t Thou art mindful of him, or the Son of Man that Thou visitest him." Thou must exist, oh God ! for the heavens declare Thy glory, and the firmament showeth Thy handy-works. 8th. — Since dinner I have read much Logic and enjoyed it ; it is interesting to me, and may, I think, with attention, do me good. Reading Watts, impresses deeply on my mind how very careful I should be of judging; how much I should consider before I speak or form an opinion ; how careful I should be not to let my mind be tinged throughout, with one reigning subject, to try not to associate ideas; but judge of things according to the evi- dence they give my mind of their own worth. My mind is like a pair of scales that are not inclined to balance equally ; at least when I begin to form a judgment, and try to hold the balance equally, as soon as I perceive one scale is at all heavier than the other, I am apt at once to let it fall on that side ; forgetting what remains in the other scale, which thouo-h lighter should not be forgotten. For instance, I look at a character, at first I try to judge calmly and truly ; but if I see more virtues than vices, I am apt soon to like that character so much that I like its weaknesses also, and forget they are weaknesses. The same if evil may preponderate, I forget the virtues. 12th. — This day finished with a dance. If I could make a rule never to give way to vanity, excitement or flirting, I do not think I should object to dancing ; but it always leads me into some one of these faults ; indeed, I never remember dancing without feeling one, if not a little of all the three, and sometimes a great deal. But as my giving it up would hurt many, it should be one of those things I part with most carefully. 30th. — I went to Meeting in the morning and afternoon ; both times rather dark ; but yet I have been a little permitted to see my own state, which is the greatest favour I can ask for at present ; to know what I should do, and to be assisted in my duties : for it is hard, very hard, to act right, at least I find it so. But there is the comfortable consideration, that God is merciful and full of compassion, he is tender over His children. I had a satisfactory time with my girls and boys. Janua7y Uh, 1 799. — Most of this morning I spent in Nor- mo.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 6{) wich seeing after tlie poor ; I do little for them, and I do not like it should appear I do much. I must be most guarded, and tell those who know I do charity that I am only my father's agent. A plan, at least a duty, that I have felt for some time, I will now mention. I have been trying to overcome fear ; my method has been to stay in the dark, and at night to go into those rooms not generally inhabited ; there is a strange propensity in the human mind to fear in the dark, there is a sort of dread of something supernatural : I tried to overcome that, by considering that as far as I believed in ghosts, so far I must believe in a state after death, and it must confirm my belief in the Spirit of God ; therefore if I try to act right, I have no need to fear the du'ections of Infinite Wisdom ; I do not turn away such things as some do. I believe nothing impossible to God, and He may have used spirits as agents for purposes beyond our conceptions ; I know they can only come when He pleases, therefore we need not fear them. But my most predominant fear is that of thieves ; and I find that still more difficult to overcome, but faith would cure that also, for God can equally protect us from man as from spirit. 8th. — My father not appearing to like all my present doings, has been rather a cloud over my mind this day ; there are few, if any, in the world I love so well, I am not easy to do what he would not like, for I think I could sacrifice almost any thing for him, I owe him so much, I love him so much. I have been readino- Watts on Judgment this afternoon : it has led me into thought, and particularly upon the evidence I have to believe in religion. The first thing that strikes me, is the perception we all have, of being under a power superior to human. I seldom feel this so much as when unwell : to see how pain can visit me, and how it is taken away. Work for ever, we eould not create life. There must be a cause to produce an efiect. The next thing that strikes me, is good and evil, virtue and vice, happiness and unhappiness — these are acknowledged to be linked together ; virtue produces good ; vice evil ; of course the Power that allows this, shows approbation of virtue. Thirdly, Christianity seems also to have its clear evidences, even to my human reason. My mind has not been convinced by books ; but what little faith I have, has been confirmed by reading the holy writers themselves. 70 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1799. 26th. — The thoughts of the evening occupied me, yet thinking I might dance. was here, who showed me a good deal of attention. I have not been enough on my guard ; yet I feel more satisfied than I mostly am after such occasions. I was in very high spirits, for me. 27th. — I have had, in most respects, comfortable Meetings ; only my thoughts too giddy, and dwelt too much on what pleased me yesterday ; they have, I am sorry to say, been occupied with old subjects, such as dress : a little flirting, I fear. I have en- joyed my little party as usual, who are now, when complete, fifteen in number. What path I shall go in life is hidden from my view. May I go in that in which I ought to go ! Do not forget how much more tempting it is to choose the easiest, and yet do not enter difficulties for difficulty's sake. Try to be led by no person, but by my own conscience. 29th. — I am in a doubtful state of mind. 1 think my mind is timid, and my affections strong, which may be partly the cause of my being so much inclined to Quakerism ; in the first place, my afi"ections were worked upon, in receiving the first doctrines of religion, and I loved them through a Quaker ; therefore it is likely they would put on that garb in my mind. In the next place, my timidity may make me uncomfortable, in erring from principles that I am so much inclined to adopt ; so far I should be on my guard, and I hope not to forget what I have just men- tioned. But yet, I think the only true standard I can have to direct myself by, is that, which experience proves to give me the most happiness, by enabling me to be more virtuous ; I believe there is something in the mind, or in the heart that shows its approbation when we do right. I give myself this advice : do not fear truth, let it be ever so contrary to inclination and feeling. Never give up the search after it : and let me take courage, and try from the bottom of my heart to do that which I believe truth dictates, if it lead me to be a Quaker or not. The last and the best advice I can give myself, is ; as far as I am able, to look up to the God who is unitedly worshipped by the whole earth, who has created us, and whom we feel has power over our thoughts, words and deeds. February 7th. — I read much this morning in St. Basil, which 1799.] OF ULIZABETH FRY. 71 is to me excellent, interesting and beautiful. He advises a con- stant thanksgiving for the many blessings we enjoy : and that Tve should not gTumble at the evils we are subject to ; how much more cause have I for thankfulness than sorrow. I seldom give thanks for the many blessings that surround me. St. Basil beautifully says, we should not eat, we should not drink, with- out giving thanks to God." lith. — I hope, I have from experience gained a little. I am much of a Friend in my principles at this time, but do not outwardly appear much so ; I say " thee" to people, and do not dress very gay, but yet I say " Mr." and " Mrs.," wear a turban, &c., &c. I have one remark to make ; every step I have taken towards Quakerism has given me satisfaction. 1 8th. — I feel I must not despair ; I consider I first brought sceptical opinions upon myself, and it is only what is due to me that they shoidd now hurt me. I hope I do not much murmur at the decrees of the Almighty ; and can I expect, who am so faulty, to be blessed with entire faith. Let me once more try and pray, that the many evil roots in my own mind may be eradicated. I had altogether a pretty good day, rather too much vanity at being mistress at home, and having to entertain many guests. 2Uh. — What feeling so cheering to the human mind as reli- gion ; what thankfulness should I feel to God. I have great reason to believe Almighty God is directing my mind to the haven of peace, at least I feel that I am gnoided by a PoM-er not my o-wn. How dark was my mind for some days ! How heavy ! I saw duties to be performed that even struck me as foolish. I took courage and tried to follow the directions of this voice ; I felt enlightened, even happy. Again I erred, again I was in a cloud ; I once more tried, and again I felt brightened. 25th. — This time last year, I was with my dear friend WUliam Savery, at Westminster Meeting. I can only thankfully admire, when I look back to about that time, the gentle leadings my soul has had, from the state of great darkness it was in ; how suddenly did the light of Christianity burst upon my mind. I have reason to believe in religion from my own experience ; and what foundation so solid to build my hopes upon ; may I gain 72 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1799. from the little experiences I have been blessed with, may I en- courage the voice of truth, and may I be a steady and virtuous combatant in the service of God. Such I think I may truly say is my most ardent prayer. But God, who is omnipresent, knows my thoughts ; knows my wishes, and my many many feelings ; may I conclude with saying, "cleanse thou me from secret faults." 28th. — We have had company most part of the day. I have had an odd feeling. Uncle Joseph and many gay ones were here ; I had a sort of sympathy with him. I feel to have been so much oS my guard, that if tempted I should have done wrong. I now hear them singing. How much my natural heart does love to sing: but if I give way to the ecstacy singing some times produces in my mind, it carries me far beyond the centre ; it increases all the wild passions, and Avorks on enthusiasm. Many say and think it leads to religion ; it may lead to emotions of religion, but true religion appears to me to be in a deeper recess of the heart ; where no earthly passion should produce it. However, music may some times be of use : and I think our earthly feelings are made use of to lead us much to better things. I think music and dancing the first pleasures in life, not happiness ; they elevate too high. They may be right, but I do not feel quite free to enjoy them ; I will now leave it, as my judgment is not clear. March ] st. — There is goingto be a dance ; What am I to do ? As far as I can see, I believe, if I find it very necessary to their pleasure, I may do it, but not for my own gratification. Eemem- ber, don't be vain ; if it be possible, dance little. I began to dance in a state npxt to pain of mind ; when I had danced four dances, I was trying to pluck up courage to tell Rachel I wished to give it up for the evening ; it seemed as if she looked into my mind, for she came up to me at that minute in the most tender manner, and begged me to leave off, saying she would contrive without me ; I suppose she saw in my countenance the state of my mind. I am not half kind enough to her, I often make sharp remarks to her, and in reality there are none of my sisters to whom I owe so much ; I must think of her as my nurse ! she would suffer much to comfort me ; may she, oh God ! be blessed ; wouldest Thou, oh wouldest Thou, let her see her right path what- ever it may be, and wilt Thou enable her to keep up to her duty, 1791).] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 73 in whatever line it may lead. Let this evening be a lesson to me, not to be unkind to her any more. I think I should feel more satisfaction in not dancing ; but such things must be left very much to the time. How very much do I wish for their happiness ; that they may be blessed in every way, is what I pray for to the Great Director ; but all is guided in wisdom, and I believe, as a family, we have much to be thankful for all ways, both for bodily and mental blessings. 4th. — I hope the day has passed without many faults. John is just come in to ask me to dance in such a kind way, — oh dear me ! I am now acting clearly differently from them all. Re- member this, as I have this night refused to dance with my dearest brother, I must out of kindness to him not be tempted by any one else. Have mercy, oh God ! have mercy upon me ! and let me act right, I humbly pray Thee ; wilt Thou love my dearest most dear brothers and sisters, wUt Thou protect us ? Dear John ! I feel much for him, such as these are home strokes, but I had far rather have them, if indeed guided by Supreme Wisdom ; for then I need not fear. I know that not dancing will not lead me to do wrong, and I fear dancing does ; though the task is hard on their account, I hope I do not mind the pain to myself. I feel for them ; but if they see in time I am happier for it, I think they will no longer lament over me. I will go to them as soon as they have done, try to be cheerful and to show them I love them ; for I do most truly, particularly John. I think I might talk a little with John, and tell him how I stand, for it is much my msest plan to keep truly intimate with them all ; make them my first friends. I do not think I ever love them so well as at such times as these. I should fully express my love for them, and how nearly it touches my heart, acting differently to what they like. These are truly great steps to take in life, but I may expect support under them. 16th. — I know I want correction, for these few days past I have not gone on well : a sort of coldness, darkness, and un- certainty that will sometimes take possession of the mind ; it is I believe much owing to a want of vigilance and activity on my part, and it does not always please the Almighty to enlighten us equally. I am a very negligent being. If, as Deborah Darby said to me, I 74 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1799. will do as far as I know to be right, I may one day be a light to the blind, feet to the lame, &c., &c. Shall such a state ever be mine ? if there be chance of such a thing, I should labour for it. I think the time I spent at Colebrook Dale one of the happiest, if not the happiest time of my life. I think my feelings that night, at Deborah Darby's, were the most exalted I ever remember. I, in a manner, was one of the beginners of the Meeting ; suddenly my mind felt clothed with light, as with a garment, and I felt silenced before God ; I cried with the heavenly feeling of humility and repentance. Then when I was in this awful state, there were two sermons preached, one telling me to get the pearl of gi'eat price ; and the other telling me what I might expect, even happiness in this world, and everlasting happiness in the one to come. But that silence, which first took possession of my mind exceeded all the rest. Fourth Month 6th. — I have not done a great deal to-day, and yet I hope I have not been idle : I try to do right now and then, but by no means constantly. I could not recover the feeling of being hurt at rejecting, I suppose, the voice of my mind last night when I sang so much ; they were not I believe feelings of my own making, for it was my wish to enjoy singing without thinking it wrong. I have written to Hannah Hoare to-day : the remembrance of the kind affection of that family is very sweet to my mind, I feel a real love for them and interest in their welfare. They understand better than almost any people I ever saw, the true method of being kind ; they seem to me to feel for others, and therefore understand what will most please them : I hope not to forget their attentions to me, and have a strong desire that our friendship may be lasting, and not subject to be blown away by the first wind that comes ; I have seen so much of the fickleness of young people's friendship, I do not feel the de- pendence upon them I formerly did. I am inclined to think the time will come, when I shall not be quite so dear to my gay friends : but I have a great hope they will keep steady ; I heartily wish they may. 7th.— 1 have hopes the day may come when Norwich Meeting will prosper and be enlivened again, from a state of cloudiness. In the afternoon, I went with them to hear a person preach at 1799.] OF ELIZABETH FEY. 75 the Baptists' M3eting : I felt afraid of setting my own opinions np and being uncharitable. It did not seem to suit me like our silent method of worship, and the prayers and sermon did not make their way into the heart as those of our Friends do ; but it is likely I should feel that, as I have much love for my own Society. Uncle Joseph was here in the evening, and he seemed rather surprised at my going to hear Kinghom. I had an in- teresting time with my young flock, I fear I might say rather too much to them ; mayst Thou, oh Father ! preserve them, for without Thy aid my efforts are ineffectual ; mayst Thou make me an instrument in leading them to trae virtue, and may the day come when Thou wilt call them to everlasting joy. 15th. — I had for my poor wandering thoughts a satisfactory Meeting ; partly owing to being nervous, for it leads me to cast my care upon the Lord. I went to Bedlam, and felt glad to see the poor Melton woman going on well. If comfort be once per- mitted to enter her heart, it will be a cause of true pleasure to me ; and I hope of gratitude to the all-wise Director ; but He knows better than I what is for her good. To-day, at Meeting, I felt such a relief in the thought that God knows all our thoughts, all our temptations ; and He knows also how much power we have to overcome them : for I felt I could not have a just estimate of my own self 22nd. — I have read a good deal of Lavater's journal, and have felt sympathy with him. I like the book, as it reminds me of my duty. I hope that I shall have more steady reliance upon God ; more regularity of mind ; less volatility of thought. To have my heart purer in the sight of Thee, who knowest and seest all my weaknesses, all my defects ; God have mercy on me ; I pray Thee ! mayst thou find in me a faithful servant, abounding in good works ; may my whole heart say truly, Thy will be done ! may I ever with all my heart say the Lord's prayer. Thou knowest my wishes, oh God ; Thou knowest them ! 24th. — I awoke with good resolutions, wishing to obtain that peaceful state of mind, of feeling myself humbly trying to do the will of the Almighty ; I took good resolves, but my nature seems not in the mind to act up to them. I feel' to have too much volatility of thought to keep that watch so necessary about my 76 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1799. thouglits, words and actions. I do not think this has been a bad day ; part of it very satisfactory, particularly teaching three little girls. How little the feelings of my heart seem under my own power ; I feel them like my body, under another power ; yet mankind do not seem willing to allow that God is the Governor and Director of the heart, though they mostly acknowledge, it is He who guides all outward circumstances ; we find we have in- ward and outward evil to combat, but we have a power within ourselves, that Mill much alleviate the many evils we are sub- ject to. 28th. — I then had a very satisfactory evening with my dear Sam ; how I do love that dear boy ; may he do well ! I am in- clined to think the day will come, when we shall see him a re- ligious character. jFi/th Month 1st. — Even acting right will sometimes bring dissensions in a family, as it says in the Testament ; we must not be discouraged even when that is oui- lot ; for whatever may be our situation, if we strictly adhere to that which we believe to be our duty, we need not fear, but rest steadily upon Him who can and will support us. I often observe how much weakness of body seems to humble the mind : illness is of great benefit to us, as I have found from experience, if we try to make good use of it ; it leads us to see our own weakness and debility, and to look to a stronger for support. So I believe it may be mth the mind ; dark and gloomy states are allowed to come upon it that we may know our own insufficiency, and place our dependence upon a Higher Power. 16th. — I have not done much to-day, partly owing to taking a walk to Melton, and company this afternoon. I am sorry to say, imperceptibly my mind gets wrapped up in the Election. I must take care, or I think I shall be ofi" my guard, and I do think if I become so warm in it, I shall find it better to go out of the way ; and may perhaps go to London Yearly Meeting. But why not try to command my mind at home ? I intend to try, but in such cases as this, it is difficult to act a negative character ; for even such a body as I am, might, I believe, get many votes amongst the poor : but yet I feel as if it were giving to the poor with an expectation of return from them to ask for their votes. Still if 179f).] OF ULI55AHETII FRY. 77 the cause be such, as may be of use in tendiug to abolish the war (for every member in the House carries some weight), is it not right to be anxious to get any one, who opposes war, into it ; " many a little makes a mickle." 27^/i. — At last this long wished for expected day has arrived. It has been one of real bustle : before we went to Norwich, I was much affected to hear of the death of poor Betty Pettet, and it moved me. Let death come in any way, how very affecting it is ; we went to Norwich, and then entered into its tumults. I have not been so very very much interested ; I might have acted pretty well, if pride, vanity, and shame had not crept in ; we lost the Election, which is certainly a very great blank, but we soon get over such matters, and it convinces me, the less public matters are entered into the better, they do not suit us ; keep to our own sphere, and do not go out of its bounds. Seventh Month A^th. — This day has not been idle, but not religious. I was most part of the morning at Norwich ; in the afternoon, I settled accounts ; and in the evening, cut out clothes for the poor. I don't think I have looked into the Testament, or wi'itten my journal to-day ; it leads me to remember what uncle Joseph said to me the other day, after reletting or reading to me the history of Mary, who anointed our Saviour ivith the precious ointment, and His disciples said she might have sold it, and given to the poor, but Christ said, " the poor ye have always with you, but me you have not always now I thought as uncle Joseph remarked, I might this evening have spent too much time about the poor, that should have been spent about better things. In July, Mr. Gurney travelled into the North of England, accompanied by his daughters Elizabeth and Priscilla, and his son Samuel. They attended the General Meeting at the Friends' Public School, at Ackworth : this interested Elizabeth, from bringing her into communication with several Friends. Among others, there was one from Ameiica, named Hannah Barnard, a person of talent and much plausibility ; but who was strongly suspected of being unsound in that essential article of faith, the divinity of Christ ; to prove this was however no easy 78 MEMOIR OF THK LIFE [1799. matter ; but after much difficulty and delay, the Friends in Eng- land declined her further religious services, and advised her to return home, where she was shortly afterwards disunited, as a member of their religious body, by Friends of that country. It appears that Elizabeth Gumey was not attracted by this person, although at that time her own opinions were by no means clear or decided ; she felt in her communications with her the want of that unction, which alone could satisfy her mind ; for however imperfect and shortcoming the true believer may be, there is a reflection of the Master's image to be perceived in every instance, where, in His offices of Prophet, Priest and King, the Saviour has been received into the heart of man. The Institution at Ack- worth is for the maintenance and education of 300 Friends' children ; it is partly supported by contributions, partly by a mode- rate payment on the part of the parents. There is a Provincial Committee appointed by the Ackworth General Meeting, held in London, at the time of the Yearly Meeting. Once in the year, the members of this Committee are met at Ackworth, by a depu- tation from the Yearly Meeting ; and any other Friends who are disposed to join them. A minute investigation then takes place of the religious state of the children, their advance in learning, their health, and domestic comfort. The travellers afterwards visited Sheepwash, an estate on the beautiful banks of the Wanspeck, at that time belonging to Mr. Gurney. Elizabeth's histories of their rambles among the woods and lovely scenery there, often delighted her children in after life ; they extended their journey to Edinburgh, and returned home, paying a few visits on their way. Lynn, Seventh Month 28^A. — This was one of the very bustling mornings, to which Earlham is subject on any of the family leaving home. We had a quiet sort of a joiu'ney here, and though I felt sorry, yet I am glad to be away from home, as we 1799.1 OF ELIZABETH FRY. 79 have lately had so much bustle, and I know I have so little culti- vated or encouraged a religious state of mind ; indeed I have been in a darkish state of late, sadly erring from the path of right : and I appeared to have gone so far out of it, that I could not get into it again, till temptation was a little lessened, which I hope it will be this journey. I think it probable, I shall be more stimulated in the right, than the wrong path. Peterborough, 29th. — We went to Meeting this morning ; and since have been travelling. — We had a long day's journey ; I hope it has been my object at least to try to act right. The propriety of saying " thou" has lately struck me : if I think it right to say it, I hope I shall be able ; though any alteration of speech is very difficult to make. Ackworth, Eighth Month \st. — To-day what is called the General Meeting began ; we first had a Meeting of worship, which was rather agreeable : after which, we dined with a very large party in the boys' dining-room at the School ; as I was wandering about in the bustle, I went into the plain Friends' room, (which I often did) where I had not been very long, before I felt myself fall into silence before God, which the rest of the party appeared to do also ; we had not sat long before William Crotch began to preach to me. I was much affected : then old Friend Hustler said something to me ; may I profit by such refreshing times. At four o'clock, the Women's Meeting met ; I amongst a great number was chosen one of the Committee to examine the children, school and household : Hannah Barnard appeared to me to hold rather too high a hand. After Meeting, we examined the bed- rooms, which I thought in good order, and talked a little to Hannah Barnard. 2n(i. — I arose about six to go to the School to hear the girls spell, which I was pleased with, but should have liked to have questioned them more myself. After that, we breakfasted ; then met in the Committee, to fix a little the plans we should go upon. I, and Sarah Cockfield were mentioned to go and attend to the Grammar School ; I said that I had only a slight knowledge of grammar. We then went to the Grammar School ; the writing, ciphering, working, mending, spinning, knitting and sewing, all 80 MEMOIR OF THE LIFE [1799. ■which I liked much, and thought upon the whole they did very well indeed ; we then examined parts of the house ; after which we dined, and at three o'clock met to hear the report of the Com- mittee ; I forgot that before dinner, we met at twelve o'clock to draw up the report of what we thought of the proceedings of the school. It was some time before any one would speak ; Friends were begging the Committee to say what they thought, but in vain, till I think Hannah Barnard broke the ice, and encouraged the young people to say what they thought ; for they had been requested before. As it appeared to me it was delaying the Meeting, I took courage (as I thought it was more right than wrong) to speak ; and said what I thought of the grammar and ciphering ; I felt glad I had done it, though I trembled at doing it, not a little. Towards the latter part of the sitting, I was pointedly asked what I thought of their spelling, which I said ; and also that I did not think they attended to the words of one, so well as those of many syllables. After the Meetings, I was encouraged in what I had done, by salutations from the Friends, Hannah Barnard and Elizabeth Cogshall. After dinner, we met again and heard the report they had written to bring in to the men. I thought the Meeting paid rather too much deference to Hannah Barnard, in delaying the Meeting, because she was not come in. The Meeting concluded, after a long waiting, to choose a sub-committee, which after all was not done, and we took the report to the men ; I own my body and mind longed impatiently to have Meeting over. After tea, I had a few interesting minutes with Hannah Barnard, to whom I had long wished to speak, about my beloved friend William Savery ; I met her standing against the wall in the long passage, by Dr. Binn's door. I went up to her, took hold of her hand and entered into talk with her ; I mentioned dear William Savery ; we went and sat in the Doctor's room, where was Thomas Scattergood, whom, though I do not think he spoke, yet I liked. 3rd. — I arose in a bustle and hurried about till the " cold victuals" were given to the poor, which plan I did not much like, as it seemed like showing off. William Crotch preached to them very agreeably, after which Thomas Scattergood called us aside, and in a little Meeting expressed tlie great love he felt for me 1799.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 81 yesterday, which made it appear to me, as if there were a sympathy of soiil, and we both were guided by the same spirit ; he expressed how much he felt for me at the time I came into Doctor Binn's room, and had then felt it on his mind to say something to me ; I also had felt a silent inclination to hear. We then set off on our journey to York. I have not suffi- ciently dwelt on the kindness of some Friends to me during our stay at Ackworth. First, dear Christiana Hustler and her daughter ; Friend Messer, and many others. May I really profit by this time. We arrived at York to a late dinner, and drank tea at Lindley Murray's, whom, though I hardly spoke to, I really loved ; there was also B F 's daughter, who seemed sweetly under the guidance and influence of religion ; she was to me truly interesting, but I think I was too forward with her ; I felt my own inferiority. 4™ ; why, I cannot tell, they represent their case clearly, but can I, after what I have felt, known, and experienced, doubt the truth of this blessed principle ; the sensible and con- stant direction of the Spirit of God in man ? The head and judg- ment of man, is most frail, or it would not twist so many ways ; the work of religion, must be in the heart, and if that become sanctified by the gTcat " I Am," and brought low before Him ; and our wills be brought into subjection to the Divine will, and He become our all in all ; then the great work, appears to me accomplished in us. Plashet, 'iOth. — I desire gTatefully to acknowledge, my being once more returned home to my beloved family : my little ones appearing to have prospered in my absence, and I hope all going on well. And also I think, with abundant cause to be grateful, that on lea\^ng Earlham, and my tenderly beloved brothers and sisters, my mind felt very clear, trusting that I had been enabled to accomplish that which came to hand to do amongst them ; and I hope without hurting the great cause. How very near and dear they are to me. On First day, I attended Ipswich and Colchester Meetings ; I believe I was helped in the ministry, in both ; if any praise be due, may it be given both by me and others, to the great Author. Spent an interesting evening, with dear old John Kendal. 1 3th. — It is my great \nsh, that being engaged in these awful and important duties, may not, in any degree, lessen my attention to the smaller concerns of life ; but rather prove a stimulus to do all well : I wish, if right, still to feel a life in them, and not have my mind so occupied by the greater, as not to enter with spirit into the smaller. How much does gratitude call for at my hands, at this time ? My beloved husband, a true helpmate and sympathizer with me ; my health and natural spirits very good ; my sweet children going on comfortably and well. Tenth Month oth. — I had yesterday a very narrow escape of 1810.] OF ELIZABETH FRY. 1()1 my life, from falling out of a whiskey upon my Lead, owing to a violent jolt ; if it had gone on, I believe it must have gone over my head ; many have been either killed or materially injured by such a fall. I was at the time favoured with clearness, and knew what to do, and by immediately applying cold water to my head, from a pond just by, my suffering was in a great measure relieved. I wonder I have not felt this event more seriously ; but I did not, even at the time, feel much frightened, or overcome : I believe I was thinking, only about a minute before, that in case of my sudden death, I had nothing to look to but mercy. 12th. — Since I last wrote, I have been very poorly ; I suppose owing to my fall. I felt at first pretty comfortable, but yet very low, and rather nervous, so that I could hardly believe good could arise ; however, how sweetly was I refreshed, not knowing why or wherefore ? A little of that life and love, that removes fear, and enables us more fully, to trust and lean upon the arm of Divine Power. I was greatly helped in Meeting in testimony, under the same covering, and afterward visited the afiiicted ; still feeling, as under the wing and canopy of something far above myself: continued a little in this state all yesterday, though again poorly ; and to-day I think myself seriously unwell. I felt rather alarmed at my situation : but I believe that there is that Power, which can and will, if He see meet, carry me through even death : and so uphold me, that I should not fear. This unmerited mercy, such a poor unworthy child has not much reason to look for ; but having already, at different times, received so much, gives a hope of still receiving more. I believe nothing in myself, or my own natural power, will ever do me much good in times of trial, owing to my very nervous fearful nature : but I may say, I have found there is that which can subdue these feelings, and overcome them, bringing us into that state, where our peace flows as a river. I believe there is, and must be much to purge away, before I can be fit to meet the King of Terrors. But I cannot do this for myself, I can only seek for, and trust in Him, who in His own mercy, and His own M^ay, can do it for me. However long pr short my life may be, may I be enabled so to live, as to be fit to die. 24