Chapter IV — Philanthropic Women
Section I Elizabeth Fry
“She pleaded unweariedly, and with the happiest results, for the persecuted, the ignorant, and the wretched of every class, and has left behind her a monument of grateful remembrance in the hearts of thousands.”
Samuel Fox.
WOMAN’S WORK.
In the last census returns it was shown that females exceeded by half a million the number of males in these islands. In England there are fifteen thousand governesses. A few years ago eight hundred and ten women applied for a situation of £15 per annum; and two hundred and fifty for another worth only £12. What are we to do with these poor creatures? How can we find suitable employment for them? These questions pass from lip to lip, and are re-echoed on every hand. We join issue with those who of late times have come to the strange conclusion that there is no essential difference—beyond an anatomical or sexual one—between the two great divisions of the human race—men and women. As surely as the little girl takes to the doll, and the baby-boy to his whip, his pop-gun, and his miniature ship; so surely did God plant natural instincts for their different duties in the souls of the different sexes. But although we hold that men and women were made and adapted for their own peculiar walks in life, we think woman as well as man may have a laudable ambition—she as well as he may take “Excelsior” as the device upon her banner. All honour to every woman who, sustaining the dignity of her sex, and not forgetting her modesty, turns her talent to account. Moreover, it is permissible to believe that men have sometimes invaded the province of women. Is the unrolling of ribbons and measuring of tape a suitable employment for young men? Would it not be much more natural for linendrapers and silk-mercers to employ women? The silk would lose nothing in being turned over by their little white hands. True, it requires a tolerably strong frame to be incessantly taking down and putting back in their places, samples of goods. But what prevents the hiring of a small number of men to be specially employed on heavy jobs? Besides, would there be nothing to praise from another point of view? If ladies were forced to be face to face with their own sex, who would treat them on a footing of equality, would presume to be out of temper, and would lose patience with their sauntering through a world of curious things, and then going away without buying anything,—the making of purchases which is now a pleasure would become a business. Might not females labour in the tailoring department with as much credit to themselves, and satisfaction to their employers, as males? The needle is woman’s instrument, and if the society of operative tailors would nobly give it up to her, hope and work would visit many a family, and charm many a home. The question whether women, instead of being confined as at present to a few occupations, shall in common with men, be clergymen, doctors, lawyers, professors, bankers, members of parliament, masons, sailors, and soldiers, is felt by many to be one of great difficulty and importance. There is no reason in theory why women should not make good masons, sailors, and soldiers; and there are abundant instances on record in which they have succeeded admirably in these employments. If you say these vocations are adapted to men by physical conditions, and not to women, you contravene the programme of some very able men and many strong-minded women, and admit all that those contend for who say that a line must be drawn somewhere, and add that the line which is indicated by the twofold consideration that woman is physically weaker than man, and that the business of maternity requires more devotion, time, and energy than that of paternity, has every appearance of being a natural line. Of this we are certain—that women, who have time and money at their disposal, might take the advice given to Lady Clara Vere de Vere:—
“Go teach the orphan boy to read,
And teach the orphan girl to sew.”
To visit mission schools, ragged schools, Dorcas societies, and prisons, is womanly, consistent, and noble.
BIOGRAPHY.
Elizabeth, third daughter of John Gurney, Esq., of Earlham Hall, near Norwich, was born on the 21st of May, 1780. By her mother, Catherine Bell, who died in 1792, she was descended from the ancient family of the Barklays, of Ury, in Kincardineshire, and great-granddaughter of Robert Barclay, the apologist of the Quakers. In natural talent she was quick and penetrating, but her education was rather defective. To the gaieties of the world, in the usual acceptation of the term, she was but little exposed. Music and dancing are not allowed by Friends; though a scruple as to the former is by no means universal. The Misses Gurney had all a taste for music, and some of them sang delightfully, especially Rachel and Elizabeth. They even danced, now and then, in the large anteroom; but with little of the display generally manifested on such occasions.
Years passed on, and little by little an all-wise Providence gradually led Elizabeth Gurney into the meridian light of day—the glorious liberty of the children of God. A severe illness first brought her to serious thought, but it was on the 4th of February, 1798, at the Friend’s meeting-house at Norwich, that the word was spoken which was destined to transform her into a new creature. The instrument of this great change was William Savery, an American Quaker, who had come to pay a friendly visit to this country.
The real goodness, self-denial, and devotion of the early founders and disciples of Quakerism, first brought it into existence, and kept it alive, in spite of much that was absurd, much that was bigoted, fantastic, and unmeaning. Like other strange mixtures of human error and Divine truth, it has lived its day, and is gradually dying out, as all phases of religious excitement must eventually die when based upon external peculiarities, and exceptional cases of personal consecration to a one-sided form of narrow sectarianism. It is computed that the number of Quakers in all England is now scarcely one in eleven hundred, while in their palmy days they reached one in one hundred and thirty persons. The Society of Friends now contribute much less to the great solid stock of intellectual wealth and spiritual worth which is constantly accumulating in the world, than they did in the days of our heroine. They can boast of no celebrities now such as Fox, and Penn, and Barclay, and Naylor, and Woolman. Their sole orator is Mr. Bright, who belongs to them in name rather than reality. But although Quakers may soon become extinct, their exertions in the cause of freedom will continue to bear noble and good fruit for many an age. But for the circumstances in which she was placed, there is reason to suppose that Elizabeth Gurney would have adopted some less strict, not to say more legitimate, form of Christianity. Be that as it may, she continued throughout life a Quakeress; singularly free from narrow-mindedness and intolerance.
Having visited London, the south of England, and Wales, she began when not more than eighteen years of age, those manifold labours of philanthropy, which have raised her to a distinguished place among the benefactors of mankind.
In 1800, she became the wife of Joseph Fry, Esq., of Upton, Essex, then a banker in London. The wedding was on the 19th of August, at the Friends’ Meeting House, in Norwich. We shall quote her own description of the day. “I awoke in a sort of terror at the prospect before me, but soon gained quietness, and something of cheerfulness; after dressing we set off for meeting; I was altogether comfortable. The meeting was crowded; I felt serious, and looking in measure to the only sure place for support. It was to me a truly solemn time; I felt every word, and not only felt, but in my manner of speaking expressed how I felt; Joseph also spoke well. Most solemn it truly was. After we sat silent some little time, Sarah Chandler knelt down in prayer; my heart prayed with her. I believe words are inadequate to describe the feelings on such an occasion. I wept a good part of the time, and my beloved father seemed as much overcome as I was. The day passed off well, and I think I was very comfortably supported under it, although cold hands and a beating heart were often my lot.” It was much more the custom then than it is now, for the junior partner to reside in the house of business; and accordingly Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Fry prepared to establish themselves in St. Mildred’s Court, in the city of London. The house was suitable in every way; and continued to be an occasional residence of different members of the family, till it was pulled down in consequence of alterations.
Elizabeth Fry was, by her marriage, brought into completely new circumstances. Unlike her own parents, her father- and mother-in-law were “plain and consistent Friends;” and thus she found herself the “gay, instead of the plain and scrupulous one of the family.” This brought her into difficulty and trial; and she feared, lest in the desire to please all, she should in any degree swerve from the line of conduct she believed right for herself. Nevertheless, for several years her life flowed smoothly on, in a round of domestic and other virtues. But God visits His people with trials, for the very same reason that the refiner casts his silver into the furnace. He tries them, to purify them. Again and again had sickness been permitted to enter her immediate circle, and she was frequently called upon to witness the last moments of dear relatives. In 1808, her father-in-law, William Storrs Fry, died at St. Mildred’s Court, where she had nursed him for several weeks. His decease produced an important change in her circumstances, causing the removal of the family to Plashet, a hamlet in the parish of East Ham, Essex, in the spring of 1809. The change from the din of the city to the quiet of the country, was not the less appreciated because years had left traces of hard-earned experience.
In 1811, she was publicly acknowledged by the Society of Friends as one of their ministers. A Mrs. Fry, or a Miss Marsh, may with much success labour for the eternal weal of souls. Those who would hinder them ought to bear in mind that God inspired women of old with the spirit of prophecy, and gave the songs of more than one of them a place in sacred literature. In the memoir edited by two of her daughters, we read as follows: “One thing is obvious, that it was as a minister of the Society of Friends, and as such only, shielded by its discipline and controlled by its supervision, that she could have carried out her peculiar vocation in the world and the Church.” She attended the first meeting of the Norwich Bible Society, and ever after took a deep interest in that noble institution. Elizabeth Fry evidently entered upon the scene of her future labours among the poor female felons in Newgate, without any idea of the importance of its ultimate results. That career, while presenting an almost inexhaustible fund of instructive thought, is yet, necessarily, somewhat repetitive. It is the glory of benevolence to be uniform.
Queen Charlotte heard of this exemplary woman, and in 1818 she went by royal command to the Mansion House. She should have been presented to her Majesty in the drawing-room, but by some mistake, she was conducted to the Egyptian Hall. The queen perceived Mrs. Fry, and advanced to address her. A murmur of applause ran through the assembly, when they saw the diminutive queen covered with diamonds, and the tall Mrs. Fry, in her simple Quakeress’s dress, earnestly conversing together. It was royal rank paying homage at the shrine of royal worth. In 1831, she had an interview with the Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria; and reminded the young princess of King Josiah, who began to reign when eight years old, and did that which was right in the sight of the Lord. The same year she had some conversation with Queen Adelaide, chiefly on benevolent subjects. In 1840, Lord Normandy presented her to Queen Victoria, at Buckingham Palace. Her present majesty had sent her £50, for a refuge at Chelsea, and inquired about Catherine Neave’s refuge, for which she had sent another £50. Mrs. Fry thanked her, and before withdrawing, reminded our noble queen of the words of Scripture, “with the merciful Thou wilt show Thyself merciful;” and assured her that it was her prayer that the blessing of God might rest upon her and Prince Albert, to whom she was about to be married.
Her health now began to fail, from over-fatigue and anxiety; but she rallied, and only ceased from works of benevolence when her strength was entirely spent. As increasing infirmity prevented her from active employment, she occupied herself with correspondence, which by degrees became enormous.
In August, 1845, Mrs. Fry was removed to Ramsgate, as sea air was considered desirable for her, and after some difficulty her husband obtained a house exactly suited to her necessities. For some time the hopes and fears of her relatives were kept in a constant state of alternation regarding her recovery. On the 10th of October, she appeared better, but shortly after was seized with a paralytic attack, which, though it did not render her speechless, destroyed her capacity for rational communication. The will seemed gone, and the inclination to resist or even desire anything, passed away. The last words she spoke were, “Oh! my dear Lord, help and keep thy servant.” She died on the 12th, aged sixty-five. The night had been dark, but the morning broke gloriously; and soon after the eternal light had dawned upon her soul, the sun rose from the ocean, and
“Flamed in the forehead of the morning sky.”
A vast multitude attended her funeral, not to listen to the language of inflated eulogy, but to testify the estimation in which the departed was held. The procession passed between the grounds of Plashet House, her once happy home, and those of Plashet Cottage, to the Friends’ burying-ground at Barking, Essex, where her grave was prepared. There is no appointed funeral service among Friends. A deep silence pervaded the mighty assembly. At length her brother, Joseph John Gurney, addressed the thousands gathered around her tomb, and offered solemn prayer.
EARLY SCHEMES OF USEFULNESS.
During seventeen centuries of the Christian era, the only associations of a benevolent character were the family, the school, and the church; and the peculiar form of operation in which such societies are now seen, virtually began at the commencement of the present century. It is only of the England of the last sixty years that we can emphatically say, “on her head are many crowns, but the fairest and brightest is that of charity.” Had this great benefactor of her race lived but one half century earlier, her plans would have been circumscribed, and in all probability would have ended with her own life. But it pleased Almighty wisdom to raise her up at a time when it was not only beginning to be whispered, but even loudly asserted, that each individual was bound to spend and be spent in the service of God and humanity. At a very early age Elizabeth Gurney commenced those habits of visiting and relieving the poor, both at Earlham and in Norwich, especially the sick; reading the Bible to them, and instructing their children. She established a school, which gradually increased, from one little boy to so great a number, that the house became inconvenient, and a vacant laundry was appropriated to that purpose. How she managed to control above seventy scholars, without assistance, without monitors, and without the countless books and pictures of the present day, must ever remain a mystery to many. Nor was her attention confined to the very poor. The widow of an officer, who was living alone in a small house near Norwich, was surprised during her confinement with her first child, 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 horseback, in a scarlet riding habit, whose servant had told her it was Miss Elizabeth Gurney. The basket contained a chicken and some little delicacies.
THE FEMALE PRISONERS’ FRIEND.
In 1813, the deplorable condition of the female felons in Newgate attracted the attention of Elizabeth Fry, and she resolved to visit them. We will not attempt to describe the details of miscalled prison discipline, nor of those flagrant abuses which, under the very eye of law, encouraged rather than diminished crime, by destroying the last remnant of self-respect in the criminal. Suffice it to say that the condition of the female convicts was a disgrace to any civilised country. Four rooms, comprising upwards of one hundred and ninety superficial yards, were crowded with nearly three hundred women, besides their children, without classification or employment, and with no other superintendence than that of a man and his son! Into this scene Mrs. Fry entered, not mailed in scorn, in hatred, or contempt, but in the armour of a pure intent. She respected human nature however fallen, and worked with it, not against it, as prison systems often do. Her gentleness at once fixed the attention of those insolent, violent, and insubordinate characters. She then read and expounded a portion of Scripture, and uttered a few words in supplication. Many of the poor creatures wept from a hitherto unfelt motive, and Mrs. Fry left, deeply affected, but without any idea of the importance or ultimate results of the labours she had begun. It was not, however, till about Christmas, 1816, that she commenced her systematic visits to Newgate, being then particularly induced by the reports of those gentlemen who, in 1815, originated the society for “The Improvement of Prison Discipline.” Under her influence the Association for the Improvement of the Female Prisoners of Newgate, was formed in 1817. The almost immediate result was order, sobriety, and neatness. This surprising change soon attracted attention, both in and out of Parliament, and in 1818, Elizabeth Fry was called upon to give evidence before a committee of the House of Commons. Arrangements similar to those adopted at Newgate were subsequently introduced into all the metropolitan gaols; and she personally inspected the prisons, lunatic asylums, and other kindred institutions in the United Kingdom, and afterwards those in the most influential nations of Europe. The enlightened and benevolent of her sex, both in our own and foreign lands became her coadjutors. Through her instrumentality important improvements took place in the treatment of female convicts sentenced to transportation. Her active and untiring philanthropic exertions on behalf of felons of her own sex, acquired for her in her lifetime the name of “the female Howard.” Only to hang, banish, and imprison convicts, ill becomes those who have sinned more against God’s laws than the worst of criminals have sinned against man’s. It has been clearly proven that women discharged from prison, and thrown upon their own resources, without a character, and consequently without any means of obtaining a livelihood, relapse into their former evil habits. We ought to provide suitable employment for them, and thus restore them to society, and prevent their children from sharing their poverty and learning their crimes.
FAMILY BEREAVEMENTS.
Death frequently entered the family of Mrs. Fry, and “sorrow upon sorrow” often formed the burden of her wounded spirit. Her sister, Elizabeth Gurney, died rejoicing that the hour of her deliverance had arrived, and that she was about to lay down her frail tabernacle, and appear in the presence of her God and Saviour. Her little grandson, Gurney Reynolds, was an especial object of interest to her. He left her not more unwell than usual. News came that he was worse, and three days afterwards he breathed away his patient spirit, as he lay upon the sofa in his mother’s room. The lovely little Juliana, the second daughter of her son William, one of the sweetest blossoms that ever gladdened parents’ hearts, was cut off after thirty hours’ illness. But the storm had not blown over; again the thunder-clouds rolled up. Her son, William Storrs Fry, the beloved and honoured head of that happy home, was himself laid low. On the day of the funeral of his little Juliana, he exclaimed, “I shall go to her, but she shall not return to me.” His last words were, “God is so good!” Emma followed her father, whom her young heart had loved and desired to obey, just one week after his departure, and eighteen days from the death of her sister. One grave contains all that is mortal of the father and his daughters. Mrs. Fry felt these blows acutely, but He who sent them bestowed His Holy Spirit; and so her faith proved stronger than her anguish. When the lips turn pale, and cold damps gather upon the brow; when the loved one is laid in the shroud; when the screws go into the coffin, and the mould rattles hollow on its lid,—faith can rise above things below, and see the ransomed spirit, singing and shining, before the throne.
RELATIVE DUTIES.
The marriage union is, of all human relations, that involving the most delicate, profound, and various responsibilities. It is only when the hearts of husbands and wives are right with God that high conjugal life can be attained. Mrs. Fry knew what was necessary to adorn the estate of matrimony—even virtuous love. “No happiness,” says Dr. Macfarlane, “can be expected at home, if love do not preside over all the domestic life. How blessed is that husband who is the loved one, who is made to feel that the reverence and obedience due to him are not only ungrudged but cheerfully conceded! This lies at the foundation. That wife is not only wicked, but a very fool, who contests with her husband for authority. It is against the law of marriage, and, therefore, it is against nature. Ten thousand times ten thousand wrecks of domestic happiness have been the consequence.” Although more liberally endowed with the qualities adapted for government than most women, Mrs. Fry rejoiced that it was laid upon broader and stronger shoulders. Her husband loved her, and therefore had a right to rule over her; she loved her husband, and therefore willingly obeyed him. Both were happy because both drank into the spirit of love.
As a mother she shone with peculiar brightness. In that most important sphere—home, she was at once the inspiring genius and the guardian angel. By her visible action and invisible influence, she efficiently prepared her children for passing through the inevitable struggles, and for securing the great ends of life. She knew that they might be fitted for the idols of coteries and the lights of drawing-rooms, and yet be utterly unable to grapple with the first onset of temptation. As a sure proof of their excellent education, her children rose from infancy to childhood, and on to youth, womanhood, and manhood, with hearts full of affection and grateful recollections of the worth of their mother.
Some mistresses seem to think that little responsibility attaches to them with regard to servants, and that so long as they provide them with home, food, and wages, they perform all the duty required. Mrs. Fry believed that servants should be rightly directed and kindly treated. She did not look upon domestics as foreigners or as aliens, but as members of the household; not mere living machines, hired to cook well, scrub well, wash well, and attend the table well; but living persons of flesh and blood, with nerves and muscles, liable to pain and weariness—with hearts capable of feeling joy, sorrow, love, and gratitude—with souls that may be saved or lost! Her conduct met its immediate reward. The servants cared for the mistress, they had an interest in the family, they were attached friends.
CHARACTER OF MRS. FRY.
Her figure was tall and, when young, slight and graceful. She was an excellent horsewoman, and rode fearlessly and well, but suffered a good deal from delicacy of constitution, and was liable to severe nervous attacks, which often hindered her from joining her sisters in their different pursuits. When young she had a profusion of soft flaxen hair. Finery in dress was always avoided, but she was slow in adopting the costume worn by the Friends. She first laid aside all ornaments, then chose quiet colours for dresses, and had them made with perfect simplicity.
We must say something of Mrs. Fry’s mental powers. Old Byrom, in one of his quaint humours, tells us that,—
“Tall men are oft like houses that are tall,
The upper rooms are furnished worst of all.”
In many cases it may be as he has said; and not only in regard to men, but also in reference to women. Here, however, we have a splendid exception—one who was a cedar in the Lebanon of intellect, as well as in that of flesh and blood. In natural talent, she was quick and penetrating, and had a depth of originality very uncommon. She was not exactly studious, yet her “upper rooms” were well furnished.
Her moral character is not difficult to describe. As a child, though gentle and quiet in temper, she was self-willed and determined. In a letter, written before she was three years old, her mother says:—“My dove-like Betsey scarcely ever offends, and is, in every sense of the word, truly engaging.” As she grew older, what at first seemed obstinacy, became finely tempered decision; and what was not unlike cunning, ripened into uncommon penetration. Enterprise and benevolence were predominant traits in her character. While she believed that domestic duties had the first and greatest claims; she overflowed with sympathy for suffering humanity. Utter unselfishness was the secret of her power.