; .r 'ftn.^ LIBRARY OF CONGRESS . I BXxm~ i 14. UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. THE LIFE MARY DUDLEY, INCLUDING AN ACCOUNT OF HER RELIGIOUS ENGAGEMENTS AND EXTRACTS FROM HER LETTERS She " being dead yet speaketlu" — Heb. xi. 4. f WITH (< AN APPENDIX, CONTAINING SOME ACCOUNT ILLNESS AND DEATH OF HER DAUGHTER, HANNAH DUDLEY. PHILADELPHIA : BENJAMIN AND THOMAS KITE, NO. 20, NORTH THIRD STREET. 1825. 6KIRKRTT LOCUST STRXXX, fEUtA-DELPUIA. INTRODUCTION. AS it is declared that " the memory of the just is blessed/ 7 and " the righteous shall be in everlasting remembrance" it seems to be the duty of those who possess the requisite materials, to select and bring forward such particulars, respecting the lives and characters of pious and devoted individuals, as may tend to instruct and encourage survivors, and exalt the power of divine grace. My beloved mother did not keep a regular journal; yet when absent from home she mostly transmitted copious details of her engagements, and sometimes made memoranda to which she often mentioned her intention of adding; but frequent attacks of illness^ and the occurrence of trying circumstances, combined to frustrate her purpose; so that when not actively engaged in the service of her Lord and Master, the lei- sure she possessed was seldom accompanied by suffi- cient ability for much writing. In the following pages, however, her own language has been generally ad- hered to, although in making extracts some trifling verbal alterations were found necessary; but great IV INTRODUCTION. care has been taken to preserve the true sense and import where any small variation seemed expedient. The prosecution of this interesting employment has been attended with a consciousness of inability to do justice to the valuable documents committed to my trust, or the character of my departed parent ; both of which are capable of being made extensively useful, had the office of Editor been filled by one more com- ~~- - ii - ' - i — " petent to perform its duties. The work is however submitted to the public, with an earnest desire, that one who spent so large a pro- portion of a lengthened life in seeking to promote the highest interests of her fellow-creatures, may, though dead, continue to speak instructively to the hearts and understandings of those who are alike " called to glory and virtue J 9 ELIZABETH DUDLEY. Peekham, 11th Month, 1824. THE LIFE OF MARY DUDLEY. CHAPTER I. From her birth to the time of her joining the Religious So- ciety of Friends, in 1773. MARY DUDLEY was the daughter of Joseph and Mary Stokes, and born in the city of Bristol, the 8th of the 6mo. 1700. Being of a delicate constitution, she was, during infancy and childhood, subject to frequent and severe indispositions, yet she was early sent to school, and has often mentioned, as a proof of serious thoughtfulness, her love of reading the Holy Scriptures, and that her partiality for the Prophecies of Isaiah was such, as to make her Governess repeat- edly inquire whether she had not yet got through that book ? Being of quick parts, and possessing facility at acquiring knowledge, she made rapid progress in learning; and as she advanced to youth, the vanity which is inherent in the human mind was much fed by the admiration of her relations and acquaintance ; yet, even at this early period, she was at times sensi- ble of the humbling visitation of Divine Love ; and in expressing her solicitude for young people, she has often been heard to say ; how highly she should have 6 The life of [chap. i. valued the privilege of christian counsel and sympa- thy, under those convictions which were at times counteracted ou one hand by incitements to worldly pleasure, and on the other by ridicule for wishing to appear better than her cotemporaries ; nor were these efforts untried on the part of those whose duty it was to act very differently. The following are her own observations : "I am drawn to commemorate the gracious dealings of a merciful Father and Creator in early visiting my mind, which, though ignorant of the nature of deep religious feelings, was certainly often impress- ed with them in the morning of my day; though, from a remarkably lively disposition, I did not yield to that awful fear, (at seasons felt,) which preserving from the snares of death would have led into a conformity to the divine will. Being educated in great strictness by my parents, respecting the observance and ceremonies of the worship they professed, (that of the Establishment,) I was a constant attendant upon them from childhood, though with this, allowed to enter into most of the vain amusements of the world, to which my natural dispo- sition greatly inclined; while in the midst of dissipa- tion I often felt a dissatisfaction, and my mind was visited with something so awful that I appeared to others very grave, and have frequently been laughed at for it. I was fond of reading, and found much pleasure in yielding to it; which, with a turn for poetry, and the intimate acquaintance of several sensible seriously inclined persons, occupied much of my time from seven- teen to eighteen years of age. These circumstances, together with the death of my beloved grandmother, gave a shock to that vanity, in the gratification of which she had much contributed to support me; and a disap- 17^0 — 1773.] MARY DUDLEY. 7 pointment in an affectionate attachment terminated the attraction to visible objects, so that my mind was like a blank, waiting to be filled up, and prepared for the more extensive reception of the precious visitation, which, early in the twentieth year of my life, was sweetly vouchsafed; so that all that was within me bowed in deep prostration, and yielded to the superior power of heavenly love. My mind being in the pre- pared state above described, it would be unsafe to date this change from the particular period of my attending the Methodist meetings ; though in doing so I certainly felt more of divine impressions than at any previous season, and particularly when under the ministry of one of their preachers, who seemed like an angel com- missioned with a message to my mind. I continued to hear him, with many others ; attended all the means, (as they are called,) and was often sweetly affected and comforted ; yet even at such times there was something Within me craving the purity of an inward, spiritual life — and seeing that without holiness no man could see the Lord, as I did believe was attainable, how did my whole soul breathe for this knowledge to be reveal- ed, and, in the depth of silence, struggle that I might rightly seek and experience it. I went into various places of worship among the Dissenters, and was at one time greatly taken with the Baptists ; but still found a want, a vacuum unfilled with that good I was thirst- ing after. Not from conviction, but partly from persua- sion, and something in me yielding to the way I thought might easily settle me, 1 joined the Methodist Society, and also continued constantly to attend the established worship, that of my education ; but in the several cere- monies of this, and the different meetings of the other, such as classes, bands ? &c. I felt unsatisfied, and often, 8 THE LIFE OF [CHAP. I. while others were engaged in attention to the preach- ing and singing, has my Spirit in solemn silence com- muned with the " Lord my strength," so that I scarcely knew what was passing around me, and even felt dis- turbed from this inward attraction, when obliged to draw to that spot where the outward elements were prepared for the congregation. Oh ! how did I then feel the Heavenly Mystery, and sweetly partake of the bread of life, so that all forms and shadows lied away, and became no longer of use or efficacy to a mind feed- ing spiritually on the substance. During these feelings and consequent shakings from all visible things, I often went into Friends' Meetings, and there, especially in silence, did my Spirit feed, as it also did in deep awful retiredness, when no eye saw me; but when, by this powerful attraction, hours have passed away, so that my body seemed to do with a very small portion of rest or sleep, I felt like a child clinging to its parent's breast; and in this state covenant was made, which to this hour I humbly trust has not been forgotten." Her totally withdrawing herself from those scenes of amusement in which she had dissipated much pre- cious time, brought upon her the ridicule of her young companions, and even the censure of many who were much older though less thoughtful than she was ; and the expectation of her again returning to worldly plea- sures, was frequently evinced ; while both flattery and entreaty were made use of, to counteract that serious- ness of demeanour which was deemed so unnecessary at the age of nineteen. The change which she felt it her duty to make, by leaving off ornaments, and wear- ing such attire as was consistent with her views of christian simplicity, being very mortifying to some of her nearest connexions, she suffered considerably on 1750 — 1/73.] MARY DUDLEY. 9 this account. The peace, however, with which her mind was favoured, more than counterbalanced these trials; and strength being mercifully proportioned to the occasion, she was enabled to persevere in the path of obedience, and has frequently been heard to say, that her company soon became as undesirable to her former gay associates, as their's was to her; while her society and example proved the means of solid advan- tage to some of her cotemporaries, who continued or sought her acquaintance. At this period she frequently recorded her feelings in metrical composition; and the two following pieces are selected, as instructively de- scribing her state of mind. WRITTEN ON HER TWENTIETH BIRTH-DAY. Did angels 9 love or seraphs' glowing fire My bosom warm, or my glad breast inspire— With what loud praises would I pierce the skies, What tuneful incense from my lips should rise. Yet tho' my pow'rs with no such ardour glow, The feeble strains of thankful love may flow? My languid numbers shall a tribute bring, And humble praise awake the silent string. While nineteen years their varied seasons roll'ii. How chain'd this captive heart in winter's cold; Unaw'd by threat'nings and uncharm'd by love, It still refus'd the quick'ning draught to prove. Vain the return of ev'ry annual day, Its call still slighted or neglected lay; In vain it told me that it gave me birth, For still it found and left me slave to earth. Immur'd in shades of interwoven night, In Nature's dismal chaos, void of light, Thus lay enwrapt my pow'rs, till mercy spoke, And thro' the gloom a ray obedient broke. 10 THE LIFE OF [CHAP. I. Amazing grace! thro' this I still survive, And boundless love has bid the rebel live; — Bids me, for once, with joy behold the day That brought to light this animated clay. Since Mercy deigns to smile, — hail welcome morn! Forever solemniz'd be thy return ; On thee let pure devotion ever rise, A.nd breathe to heav'n unsullied sacrifice. A HYMN, WRITTEN IN THE TWENTY-FIRST YEAR OF HER AGE^ How shall I tune a trembling lay, How touch the soften'd string ? Fain would I heav'nly love display, — The God of mercy sing. I would,— but Oh ! how faint each power, How far too high the theme ; — Come, blessed Spirit, aid restore, And raise the languid flame! What wondrous grace ! what boundless love ! What soft compassion this, That calls my rebel heart to prove A never-fading bliss ! Long have I sought the pleasing sound,— But sought, alas ! in vain — Explored in Pleasure's mazy ground, In Nature's desert plain. What grace that I am not consum'd, Not hurl'd to endless night $ Mercy has all her pow'r assum'd, And yields a cheering light. 1750 1773.] MARY DUPLEY. 11 'Tis Mercy bids me seek the Lord ; 'Tis Mercy bids me fly ; 'Tis Mercy speaks the balmy word, "Repent, thy God is nigh." 'Tis mercy fills my trembling heart With agonizing pain, With keen distress and poignant smart,-— Nor heave these sighs in vain. The tears that now in torrents flow, This Mercy will repress ; Remove the load, a pardon show, And speak a healing peace. 1 Then let me humbly wait the hour — The hour of sweet release $ Incessant, saving grace implore, Incessant, pant for peace. At thy blest feet, my Lord and King, Resigned led me lie, Till the glad peals of triumph ring, And Faith behold Thee nigh. Then shall the stammerer's tongue proclaim The goodness of the Lord ; In grateful strains rehearse His fame. In hymns His love record. I'll warble to each list'ning ear The feeble song of praise ; My sweet employ while trav'lling here, To lisp Redeeming Grace! She was much esteemed by John Wesley, and other distinguished characters in the Methodist con- nexion, and was frequently urged to become what is called a class leader : but she freely confessed to him, 1# THE LIFE OF [CHAP. I. and other members of the Society, that her views were not perfectly accordant with their tenets, and she uniformly refrained from taking any active part amongst them. Her exercises of mind, under the gra- dual discoveries of the divine will concerning her, being in degree unfolded in some letters to a dear and intimate friend, it is thought the following extracts will be acceptable to the reader. May 10th, 1771.— "I have . nothing, my dear friend, to tell you, but of mercies — nothing but un- bounded love should be my theme. The Lord is in- deed gracious, and has lately given me to feel it. Oh ! what sweet calls, what gentle admonitions has He in- dulged me with. The feeble structure of clay is im- paired — but, glory to my God, my soul feels the in- vigorating influence of his grace ; in some moments of retirement lately, it has been ready to burst its barrier, and I have earnestly longed to be with my Beloved. nor can I think it will be long first. Glorious pros- pect ! Oh ! my friend, if our next meeting should be around the throne ! While I write, my heart feels un- utterable desires. Pray for me, that the work of grace may be completed in my soul. I believe it will — I feel I want every thing, and am fully confi- dent Jesus will supply all that is lacking. In the eyes of some, this might appear as the wild excursion of enthusiasm ; to my friend it will wear a different aspect, and, (I trust,) engage her in my behalf at the throne of grace. This, however, we are certain of, there is no danger from any thing that leads to God, and an impression, whether real or imaginary, of our nearness to death, cannot but give a solemnity to the mind." November dth, 1771- — " Ho not you, do not I, feel the need of just such an all-sufficient Redeemer, as 1750 — 1/78.] MARY DUDLEY. 13 the compassionate Jesus ? Blessed be His name, we cannot, we would not do without Him, as our Prophet, Priest, and King. Here our poverty is indeed our greatest riches : we are content, yea, we rejoice, that our whole dependance is on, and our entire support derived from Him in whom all fulness dwells; as having nothing and yet possessing all things. Christ is indeed eyes to the blind, ears to the deaf, feet to the lame, yea, all the sinner wants. For my own part, I feel I am all weakness and helplessness, having every thing to learn, but find the Lord Jesus to be that rock whereunto I may always resort. 1 long to be more closely united to Him who hath so graciously condescended, and mercifully delivered me. Oh ! that my one desire, aim, and intention, may be to live to His glory." a To be in the will of Him who does all things well, is blessed : may we bow continually to His easy sway. Oh ! what happiness should we find resulting from the desire that He might choose for us. Surely infinite love joins with infinite wisdom, and wills our peace. May our language then be ever this— 4 Melt down our will and let it flow And take the mould divine. 5 u Consider the Apostle and High Priest of our profession, Jesus Christ, who for the joy that was set before Him endured the cross.* Oh ! my friend, * The Editor takes this opportunity of observing, that the pas- sage in Hebrews, chap. xii. ver. 2, seems best understood by ac- cepting the word "for" as "instead of," which appears most ac- cordant with the apostle's view of the magnitude of our blessed Redeemer's sacrifice. The pious subject of these memoirs having been accustomed to attach this meaning to the text, renders the present note more requisite; 14 THE LIFE OP [CHAP I. let us press toward the mark, this glorious mark of conformity to our diviue Lord and Master. Does nature, that principle which cries spare me, oppose, and strongly resist the operation of that power which lays the axe to the root of the tree, and forbids self- indulgence? yet, let us in the strength communicated, obey that command "follow me;" and will not every act of self-denial we are enabled to perform, weaken the power of our enemies, and encourage us to perse- vere in the glorious combat? Verily it will, and also meet a present recompense of reward from conde- scending grace. Come then, my beloved friend, gird up the loins of your mind, be sober, and watch unto prayer; the Bridegroom cometh, go ye forth to meet him; meet Him, by adverting to Him in your own heart, where he waits to speak in righteousness, mighty to save. Oh! for that attentive listening to His secret voice, which one felt who said, ' Be still, Oh my soul ! speak, Oh my Love V I had almost said, Hail celestial silence, sacred source of heavenly safety, sweetest spring of solid peace. I know not of any path besides that is truly safe, — it is an impreg- nable fortress. — ' I will watch to see what He will say unto me/ was the determination of an ancient servant of the Most High: may my friend go and do likewise, and may the God of all grace enable His weakest worm to follow every solemn injunction, and obey the dictates of His spirit. Pray that I may ever keep an attentive watch, lest I should be surprised in an hour I expect not." — — "I have frequently wished for an opportuni- ty of addressing you through this channel, but in vain, till the present moment, and with more than usual pleasure I embrace it, but what can I say? Not rich 1750—1773.] MARY DUDLEY. 15 and increased with goods, but poor and needy, where is my spring of help? Even in Him who is the Alpha and Omega; if in matchless condescension He deigus to communicate, as His is the power, to Him also may the glory be ever ascribed ! I suppose my friend ex- pects an interpretation of what has beeu lately hint- ed, with regard to the approbation I feel of the Qua- kers' mode of worship : on this point I have little to say, yet with the most unreserved freedom will I speak to that friend, whom I wish to know the inmost recesses of my heart. I need not tell you how exceed- ingly different my natural disposition is from the love of solitude, whether internal or external. Prone to activity, and fond of dissipation, I pursued the attrac- tion, till a more powerful and all-conquering one al- lured me. Since I have known any thing of the peace which is from above, retirement has been pleasant, though a principle of acting was yet alive; this was encouraged by my connexion with the Methodists, who I need not tell you are in the active class ; hav- ing premised how opposed to my own, I think I may conclude, that the Spirit of God has now produced a cessation of self- working within me, and by emptying as from vessel to vessel, is showing me I have every- thing to learn, and that by lying in His forming hand , the temple will be raised to his own glory ; this leads me into the inward path of abstraction from those things I once thought essential, and to the confirma- tion of these feelings the ministry of the Friends has much contributed; the small still voice has whispered unutterable things to His unworthy dust in their as- semblies, and given tokens of his approbation to my meeting with them. Adored be his condescending love ! Hitherto then hath the Lord brought me ; and 16 THE LIFE OF [CHAP. I, who hath been His Counsellor f Verily his own un- erring wisdom : the future, (with the past,) is His; ignorance itself am I. I have no light, but as he dif- fuses it, and He has graciously promised that His followers shall not walk in darkness, but shall have the light of life; they shall be taught of Gtod. Is this Divine Teacher my friend? May I be all attention to Him who has given me the desire to be instructed by Him. To this guiding, my much loved friend, I leave my cause ; I feel it my privilege to wait upon God. I know not that it is my duty to be joined with this part of the flock, though my mind strongly unites with them : my path must be more illumined before I presume to take a step so important. I want not a name, need I tell you so? it is the nature of that Christianity which is life and spirit, that can alone administer real peace to mine and to every soul. Per- mit me then, my friend, to meet with, and love those who are the subject of your fears — your friendly, ten- der fears, and thiuk not that I shall ever realize these, unless plainly directed thereto. My ever- dear friend will, I doubt not, bear me on her heart before the throne of grace, where I trust our united language will for ever be — ' Father, thy will be done.' w Many others of her religious acquaintance also tes- tified their uneasiness at her evident attraction to the Society of Friends ; and John Wesley wrote to her in very strong terms of disapprobation. The follow- ing letter to him closed her correspondence with this highly-esteemed friend, who afterwards continued to treat her with affectionate regard, and to speak of her in terms of respect. 1750—1773.] MARY DUDLEY. 17 Letter to John Wesley. July 29//*, 1772. u My very dear and worthy friend, " For once I can say, the receipt of a letter from you has given me inexpressible pain ; I am there- fore constrained to address you in this manner, before we personally meet, as I fear my spirits would not en- able me so freely to speak as to write the undisguised feelings of my heart. I believe the apprehension of my valuable friend and father arises from a tender affection for an unworthy worm ; of the sincerity of which he has only added a fresh and convincing proof. Whether I may give weight to, or dissipate your fears, the most unreserved declaration of my sentiments will determine. Your reviving in my remembrance the many favours I have received from the liberal hand of mercy, since my connexion with our dear friends, is kindly proper ; I think I have some sensibility of the love of God towards me in this respect, and esteem that memorable hour when I heard the gospel trumpet among them, the happiest of my life. Yes, my dearest sir, my heart burns while I recollect the attraction of heavenly grace ! the many, the innumerable mercies since then received, I desire with thankfulness to ac- knowledge; and which, unless the spirit is separated from the gracious Author, cannot be forgotten. * Be* ware of striking into new paths,' says my revered friend. Much, very much, should I fear exploring any of my- self, or taking one step in so important a point, with- out the direction of Him, wfio is emphatically called, ' Wonderful ! Counsellor P To His praise be it spo- ken, He has given me the desire to be guided by Him ; and I humbly hope, in obedience to this Holy Teacher, I have at some seasons lately attended the Quakers' 3 18 THE LIFE OF [CHAP. I. Meeting, but not at the time of our own worship, ex- cept Sunday evenings, when, with truth I say, the ex- cessive warmth of the room was too much for me to bear. I am obliged to testify, the Lord has clothed His word delivered there with divine power, for which, the heart of my dear father will rejoice, since ' Names, and sects, and parties fall, And thou, Christ, art all in all!' With regard to silent meetings, I apprehend their au- thority may be known by the power they are attended- with. I have not been at such, yet in my own expe- rience find the unutterable prayer to be the most pro- fitable, and am led much into what is so beautifully expressed in one of our hymns. 4 The speechless awe that dares not move, And all the silent heaven of love. ' I long to be more internally devoted to that God, who alone is worshipped in spirit and in truth ; and find, in order to keep up a spiritual intercourse, there must be a deep, inward, silent attention, to the secret intima- tions of divine love, for which my inmost soul aspires to Him, who has promised to fulfil the desire of them that seek him ; and is this, my dear Sir, ' stepping out of the way?' Surely it cannot, while I find a peace that passeth all understanding. Can this lead me to think slightly of ray old teachers? Oh ! could my heart be opened to my friend, he would see far other charac- ters imprest. Will this teach me to neglect my meet- ings ? I esteem them great privileges where, not cus- tom, but a sincere desire for God's glory is our princi- ple of action. What further can I say to my honoured 1750—1773.] MARY DUDLEY. 19 friend, after disclosing so much of that heart which holds him in most affectionate and respectful love. I can only add the request, that he would join me in that emphatic prayer to the God of all grace, 'Thy will be done ; ? to which an attention aud obedience will, I trust, divinely influence his very unworthy, but gratefully affectionate, " M. Stokes." After this she gradually withdrew from the Metho- dist Society, and became increasingly sensible that it was her religious duty to profess with Friends, w r hich she was strengthened openly to acknowledge in lan- guage and demeanour about the middle of the year 1773. This important event and the deep exercises by which it was preceded are thus stated in my dear mo- ther's own narrative : u The active zeal of the people I loved, and had joined , now appeared to me irreconcileable with that self-abasement, and utter inability to move with- out holy help, which I experienced. I had nothing but poverty and weakness to tell of; and when, from the force of example, I did speak,* my little strength was rather diminished than increased. Indeed, I found little but in quietude and inward attention, and when centred here, I had all things, because I possessed the good itself. Thus was my mind drawn from all crea- tures, without the help of any, to the Creator and source of light and life, who, to finish His own work, saw meet to deprive me of my health; this happened in the year 1773, about the time of my dear father's death, * This alludes to the practice of disclosing individual expe? rience, in the Class Meetings of the Methodist Society. SO THE LIFE OF [CHAP. I, on whom I closely attended through a lingering illness, wherein he said to me, ' O Polly ! I had rather see you as you are than on a throne.' I believe he died in peace. My complaints threatened my life, being con- sumptive, but I felt no way anxious respecting the ter- mination. I was weaned from all creatures, but felt, beyond all doubt, that if life was prolonged, were there no Quaker on earth, I must be one in principle and practice ; but being determined if the work was of God, He himself should effect it, I read not any book of their writing. Being utterly unable to go from home, I at- tended no place of worship, and conversed with very few, except my beloved and most intimate friend, Re- becca Scudamore,* and even to her were my lips seal- ed respecting the path pointed out to me ; but, after hesitating and shrinking many weeks from using the plain language, wherein the cross was too great to be resignedly borne, she told me her fixed belief, that I ought to use it, and that my disobedience caused her great suffering, or to that effect: I then told her, I was convinced of its being required, but, that if giving my natural life would be accepted, I was ready to yield the sacrifice. My health grew worse, and every act of transgression increased my bodily weakness; until feeling all was at stake, in the very anguish of my spirit I yielded; and addressing my beloved and hitherto affectionate mother, in the language of convic- tion, my sufferings grew extreme through her opposi- tion; but never may my soul forget the precious influ- ence then extended ; the very climate I breathed in was * This friend was a member of the Church of England, and highly esteemed, as a woman of distinguished piety and deep spi- ritual experience. A short account of her life was printed at Bris- tol about thirty years ago. 1750—1773.] MARY DUDLEY. 21 sweet, all was tranquil and serene, and the evidence of Heavenly approbation beyond expression clear ; so that this temporary suffering from mistaken zeal, seem- ed light, comparatively ; and indeed all was more than compensated by future kindness, when light shone about that dear parent's dwelling. My health mended, I soon got to Meetings, and though ignorant of the way Friends had been led, or some peculiar testimonies they held, the day of vision clearly unfolded them one after another, so that obedience in one matter loosened the seal to another opening, until I found, as face an- swered face in a glass, so did the experience of en- lightened minds answer one to the other. I here re- member the strong impression I received of the want of rectitude arid spirituality, respecting the payment of tithes or priest's demands; feeling great pain in only handing, at my mother's request, a piece of money, which was her property, to some collectors for this purpose: so delicate and swift is the pure witness against even touching that which defileth." Her relations left no means untried to dissuade her from a profession which involved so much self-denial, and seemed, in their view, to frustrate every prospect of worldly advantage ; and her mother considering her change as the effect of temptation, was in hopes the interference of the minister of the parish would prove helpful, and accordingly promoted their having an in- terview; but this did not produce any alteration, nei- ther was it very satisfactory to either party ; the clergy- man very strongly censured her for having taken so important a step without first consulting him, to which she replied, that not feeling at liberty to confer with flesh and blood, even by consulting her own inclina- tions, she dared not to seek any human counsel, and %% THE LIFE OF [CHAP. I. was endeavouring to act in simple obedience to the discoveries of Divine Light in her own soul. Upon leaving her, he presented a book, which he enjoined her to read, but upon looking at the title " A Preser- vative from Quakerism," she pleasantly observed, "It is too late, thou shouldst have brought me a restora- tive." In the midst of this opposition, she was much encouraged by the sympathy and Christian advice of Elizabeth Johnson, a conspicuous and valuable mem- ber of the Methodist Society. This friend had fre- quently visited her during her illness, and once when she was thought near her end, after spending a consi- derable time in silence by the bed-side, solemnly ad- dressed her in the following language, " I do not be- lieve that your Heavenly Father is about to take you out of the world, but I believe you are called to make a different profession ; you are not led as the Metho- dists are, but are designed to become a Quaker." This^ though very striking and of an encouraging tendency, did not produce any acknowledgment of what was then passing in the conflicted mind of the invalid, who, however, continued to derive comfort from the visits of this valuable acquaintance ; and has often mentioned the sweet and strengthening influence of which she was at times sensible, when no words passed between them, as well as the tender and maternal interest which she afterwards manifested, when the view she had express- ed was realized, by her young friend publicly avowing religious sentiments different from her own. 1773 — 1786.] MARY DUDLEY. &3 CHAPTER II. Conflicts respecting her call to the Ministry — Marriage and Removal into Ireland. From 1773 to 1786. THE state of her mind at this important period, will be best set forth by a further extract from the Me- moir already alluded to — " I now kept constantly to the Meetings of Friends, and began to feel a settlement of mind in real peace, which my tossed state for several years had caused me only transiently to possess ; or, at least, not in the degree of which I now partook ; not that all the work seemed requisite to commence anew, for assured- ly Christ had been raised in my heart, though until now, the government w T as not wholly on His shoulders ; but by this unreserved surrender to His pure guidance, the mystery of godliness was beginning to open in in- creasing light and power, and that spirituality which had been discovered was now in a measure possessed. The view I had been affected with on my first con- vincement, now cleared, and appeared so near being realized, that my mind, almost without interruption, dwelt under so awful a covering, that even all conver- sation impressed me with fear, and I was held in deep inward attention for, and to, the revealings of life. In religious Meetings I was for some time frequently af- fected even to trembling, when matter would present to my mind, as though I must deliver it, though seldom more than a very little ; notwithstanding the love 1 felt was so universal, that I wanted all to be reached unto, £4 THE LIFE OF [CHAP. 11, but for this family, (the Society of Friends,) among whom I had tasted the soul sustaining bread, Oh ! how did I long for them and their good. " About this, season, from a settled conviction of rectitude, I applied to be received into membership ; and thought I might, when this privilege was granted, feel more strength should this solemn requiring be con- tinued ; but though my way was made so easy, that one visit only was ever paid me on this account, Friends being quite satisfied in their minds respecting the work begun in me, yet while the previous delibe- ration in the Meeting took place, the fire of the Lord so burned in my heart, that I dared not but speak with my tongue. For several Meeting days I hesitated, not from wilful disobedience, but awful fear to move in so great a work, and felt consequent poverty, though not severe condemnation ; but one day, about the eleventh month, (I think,) in the year 1773, sitting with Friends in their Meeting-house in the Friars, Bristol, (I had once in a little country Meeting moved before, but never here where the cross was great in- deed,) my spirit bowed in awful reverence before the God of my life, and a few words so settled, that I could not any way shake them from me. I sat and trembled exceedingly, and desired to be excused, till a valuable friend from America, (Robert Willis) then on a reli- gious visit to that city, stood up, and spoke so encourag- ingly to my state, that when he closed I stood on my feet, and the words impressing my mind, seemed to run through me as a passive vessel ; he almost instant- ly kneeled down, and supplicated for the preservation of the little ones, saying, f Thou hast brought to the birth and given strength to bring forth,' &c. I could not stand while he was thus engaged, being as though 1773—1786.] MARY DUDLEY. 25 my whole frame was shaken through the power of truth. When Meeting closed I got as quickly as I could out of it, and walked a back way home, with such a covering of sweet peace, that I felt the evidence indisputably clear, that if I were then called out of time, an everlasting inheritance was sure : the whole creation wore the aspect of serenity, and the Creator of all things was my Friend. Oh ! on my return home and retiring to my chamber, how sweetly precious did the language, addressed to the holy Patriarch in an in- stance of obedience, feel to my spirit, and it was in- deed sealed by divine power, "Because thou hast been faithful in this thing, in blessing I will bless thee," &c. &c. None of my family knew of this mat- ter, and I strove to appear cheerful, which indeed I could in the sweet feeling of life ; but so awful was the consideration of what was thus begun, that solemnity was also my garment, and I wished to be hid from the sight of every one. My body being very weak, the exercise and agitation greatly affected me, and I was that night taken alarmingly ill, but in a few days re- covered, and got again to Meetings. Friends mani- fested great tenderness towards me, and though not frequently, I sometimes said a few words in the same simplicity I first moved, and once or twice ventured on my knees ; after which exercises, I mean all of this nature, I felt quiet and easy, but never partook in the like degree as before recited of divine consolation." Here it may not be unseasonable to remark, that her dedication was made the means of reconciling her offended mother to the change which had so exceed- ingly tried her. This dear parent being accidentally at a Meeting where her daughter spoke, was greatly affected by the circumstance, and calling upon an inti- 4 26 THE LIFE OF [CHAP. II, mate acquaintance afterwards, expressed her regret at having ever opposed her, adding, that she was then convinced it must be the work of God, as from the knowledge she had of her daughter's disposition, she was well aware it must have cost her close suffering to undergo the exposure she had witnessed that evening. The fruit of this conviction became immediately appa- rent, so that although no direct allusion was ever made to the subject, the return of maternal tenderness and love was a sufficient, and very grateful, evidence to one who had deeply lamented the necessity of giving pain to a parent, by acknowledging the superior duty she owed to her heavenly Father. In her own memoranda she then writes — ■ f My acquaintance now increased amongst Friends, and I had frequent opportunities of hearing the observations of some very wise and experienced persons, respecting ministry. Though great was the encouragement given me by many, as well residents in the same place, as strangers, a disposition always prevalent in me, especially on religious subjects, now took the lead, and I fell into great reasoning respect- ing my call to, and preparation for, so great a work. I imagined if I had longer abode in the furnace of refinement it had been better, and sometimes thought I was wholly mistaken; that perhaps the first, or all the little offerings, were acceptable as proofs of the surrender of my will ; but, the ministry I was not de- signed for, the woe had not been sufficiently felt, &c. &c. Oh ! it would be difficult for me to mention, nor might it be safe, what my spirit was by these reason- ings plunged into, insomuch that at last life itself was bitter, and a coincidence of outward circumstances ad- ded to my inward pressures^ so that I fainted in my 1773—1786.] MARY DUDLEY. 27 sighing, and found little or no rest. Meeting after Meeting I refused to move at the word of holy com- mand, which hereby became less intelligible, and my understanding gradually darkened through rebellion, so that I said with Jonah,