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FRIENDS' SHILLING BIOGRAPHICAL SERIES. No. 
 
 Elizabeth Fry. 
 
 By 
 Irene M. Ashbi 
 
 

 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
FRIENDS' BOOKS. 
 
 ' * QUAKER PICT URES, 
 
 By W. W fatten, 
 
 •2s. (id. and 3s. (id. Nett 
 
 THE HAYDOCK'S TESTIMONY, 
 
 A Story of Quaker Life, 
 
 \s. Nett. 
 
 "GEORGE FOX'S JOURNAL," 
 
 New and Complete Edition, in 2 Vols. 
 
 os. Nett. 
 
 EDWARD HICKS, Jit., 
 14, BISHOPSGATE "WITHOUT 
 
 LONDON. 
 
Of THJJ 
 
 ;uiuvbrsit7: 
 

 ^^r^lBH 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 & 
 
 
 1 ■'■ 
 
 £9 /^^R 
 
 
 
 
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 -' ;.•'" '* ' ' ' ; : 
 
 
 
ELIZABETH FRY 
 
 BY 
 
 IRENE M. ASHBV. 
 u 
 
 [uir ivb a sit r! 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 EDWARD HICKS, Jr., 
 14, BISHOPSGATE WITHOUT, 
 
 AND 
 
 *, AMEN CORNER, PATERKOSTEK ROW 
 
 1892, 
 
H#J 
 
 FRIENDS' BOOKS. 
 
 "QUAKER STRONGHOLDS," 
 
 By Caroline E. Stephen, 
 
 Is. Nett. 
 
 u 
 
 FRIENDS OF A HALF CENTURY," 
 Fifty Memorials, icith Portraits, 
 vs. Nett. 
 
 ANNALS OF THE EARLY FRIENDS, 
 
 By F. A. Budge, 
 
 2s. 6d. Nett. 
 
 J 
 
 EDWARD HICKS, Ju., 
 
 14, BTSIIOPSGATE WITHOUT, 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 wyi 
 
 (ocrof 
 
CON T ENTS. 
 
 . CHA1\ ,. AGF 
 
 I. WHAT IS GOD LIKE ? . . . . 1 
 
 II. ENVIRONMENT .. .. .. 7 
 
 III. a girl's choice .. .. .. 18 
 
 IV. THE BACK OF THE WARP AND WOOF 32 
 
 V. THE DELIVERER UNBOUND .. 41 
 VI. THE SHADOW OF DEATH .. .. 53 
 
 VII. RIPENING .. .. .. .. 62 
 
 VIII. DAYBREAK IN PRISON .. .. 71 
 
 IX. DAYBREAK ON ^ BOARD •• .. 97 
 
 X. THE. LIGHT SPREADS .. .. ill 
 
 XI. PAIR THAT WAS WORTH THE Willi. E 119 
 
 XII. MUI/ll'M IX PARTO .. .. •• 181 
 
 XIII. is l ins THE END ? I KNOW IT 
 
 CANNOT BE ! . . . . 146 
 
\ 
 
 - "Since my heart was first touched .... I believe 
 I never have 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." 
 
 Elizabeth Fry. 
 
^> Of THB 
 
 tjiivbrsity; 
 
 IlLIZABETH RY 
 
 f 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 WHAT IS GOD LIKE t 
 
 I say, to thee, do thou repeat 
 
 To the first man thou mayest meet 
 
 In lane, highway, or open street— 
 
 That he, and we, and all men move 
 
 Under a canopy of love, 
 
 As broad as the blue sky above. 
 
 — Tkkxcii. 
 
 ri^HERE are many people who have neither 
 time nor opportunity to go in for a 
 thorough course of study on art or science, who 
 yet truly enjoy and appreciate beauty of form 
 and colour when this is presented to them, and 
 whose lives are gladdened and elevated by 
 glimpses of loveliness they cannot explain or 
 even minutely examine. 
 
 Faster and faster fly the wheels of Time, 
 
 . k J\Mb 
 
I ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 and men and women who have day by 
 day to strain every nerve to keep up in the 
 race for life, are obliged regretfully to lay 
 aside much that is enjoyable in literature and 
 art, as too time-taking. The need of con- 
 densation is felt increasingly, for when much 
 matter is put into small compass it is seen 
 that lack of time, and not of appreciation, 
 is the reason that many of these workers 
 are unacquainted with the persons and events 
 which live and pass outside their own particular 
 sphere. 
 
 It is for such that this little sketch of the 
 life of Elizabeth Fry is chiefly intended. 
 
 For those who have leisure there are more 
 ponderous volumes, notably the memoir by her 
 daughters, which is composed in great part of 
 her own private journal, and which will richly 
 repay the trouble of reading, by giving a more 
 intimate knowledge and understanding of a won- 
 derful character and an unparalleled work. 
 
 In this sketch we wish to present, not so 
 much Elizabeth Fry's actions or the reforms" 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 3 
 
 to which they have led, catalogued and counted 
 as they may be, as Elizabeth Fry herself. 
 The artist and the poet strive in vain to 
 embody what they see and think with brush or 
 pen, how much more difficult is it with cold 
 and lifeless materials to reveal a complex human 
 being, living and real as she stands before us, 
 — this unique woman with a character all her own, 
 original and intricate ; how can we picture her 
 as she stood before the despairing prisoner, and 
 bonds were lightened, or bent over the dying 
 bed, and death lost its terrors ? And not only 
 as the philanthropist, whose influence has had so 
 great an effect on the management of criminals 
 and lunatics, both in the United Kingdom and 
 on the Continent, but as the woman of like 
 passions with ourselves, as she gave colour to the 
 light of common day to all who came in 
 contact with her. ■ One touch of Nature makes 
 the whole world kin' ; and were it only for the 
 tears dropped over one little grave in Barking 
 Burying Ground, we should feel that Elizabeth 
 Fry, the enthusiast, the orator, the associate of 
 
4 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 Kings and Princes, is infinitely dearer and nearer 
 to us as sister than as Saint. 
 
 Some may object that it is exalting the 
 human too much thus to seek to renew for our- 
 selves a life that has passed away, and that we 
 should simply look at the results of that life, 
 and not at the instrument. This is a feeling 
 very prevalent among many even of the most 
 earnest, and thus help and encouragement is lost 
 to many a wanderer in these days of doubt 
 and uncertainty. 
 
 There are too few of such rare souls on 
 this earth for us to lose one. Eagerly the 
 world questions • What is God like ? ' We point 
 to unheeding Nature, and too often the world 
 turns despairing from the pitilessness Science 
 has shewn us all too plainly in this same Nature, 
 and will not look at the lives of such as this 
 woman, which are true pictures of God. An- 
 thropomorphism is this ? Yet they are surely 
 more like the almighty conscious and omnipresent 
 Will than the blind and fixed laws of the 
 Universe. 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 5 
 
 All creation can be but the embodiment of 
 a thought, and God cannot make what is higher 
 or nobler than Himself, even to our finite 
 understanding; wherever we find compassion and 
 mercy and self-forgetting love pervading a life, 
 shining through and conquering circumstance, 
 where we can see nobility, which, the world itself 
 recognizes and bows to, there we look upon a 
 reflection of God, and learn in the life spent 
 for others that He is our Father, as in Nature 
 we see that He is our Creator. 
 
 The work she accomplished is but the 
 smallest part of Elizabeth Fry's " God like- 
 ness ; " — it was the divine pity, the tireless 
 energy, made out of weakness strong, the courage 
 that dared to everstep conventionality and brave 
 the world's censure for the sake of suffering 
 humanity, the source of which her actions were 
 but the feeble expression, that in her life really 
 contradicts the hard thoughts we have of God, 
 and bids us trust in the Creator who must be 
 above His creation. 
 
 Let us then briefly follow this one woman, 
 
 L Wt)L J ^P" 
 
6 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 too little known and loved by the nation she 
 did so much for, in her path through life, and 
 watching how the flowers of hope spring around 
 her wherever she passes, even for the most 
 sunken, while sin becomes more hateful in her 
 pure presence, ask ourselves, If such is the 
 woman, what must her God be like ? 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 ENVIRONMENT. 
 
 The Sea of Faith 
 
 Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore 
 
 Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd. 
 
 But now I only hear 
 
 Its melancholy, long, with drawing roar, 
 
 Retreating, to the breath 
 
 Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear 
 
 And naked shingles of the world. 
 
 Matthew Arnold. 
 
 O Love Divine ! whose constant beam 
 Shines on the eyes that will not see, 
 
 And waits to bless us, while we dream 
 Thou leavest us because we turn from Thee. 
 
 Whittiek. 
 
 "\\7~E cannot understand a book or a life until 
 we know something of the surroundings 
 amid which it has developed. The mind 
 
 of every human being is tinctured to a great 
 extent by the prevailing modes of thought 
 which influenced education and environment. 
 Of those who lived in the times in which 
 Elizabeth Fry was born, this was peculiarly true. 
 
 ■ 
 
8 ELIZABETH EBY. 
 
 The end of last century was an age of up- 
 heaval and destruction, both moral and political ; 
 before the storm fell old Kingdoms, old Aris- 
 tocracies, and old Faiths. After centuries of 
 voluptuous dreaming France awoke to the terrible 
 reality of the Revolution. But the terror of 
 1 la guillotine ' was not the worst of that fearful 
 time. Weary of superstition, and of evil hiding 
 under a garb of religion, many thinkers in 
 France and other parts of Europe threw Faith 
 aside and worshipped Reason, only to find that 
 they had missed their way and were without God. 
 
 Faith was fairly challenged, and instead of 
 finding themselves borne on firm and assured 
 ground, every man that reached a place of 
 safety had to fight his way thither through doubt 
 and unsparing criticism. 
 
 In such an age it was impossible for educated 
 minds, however commonplace, to be quiescent, 
 and the horrors of the French Revolution and 
 its consequences shook men roughly from their 
 careless and indifferent attitude. 
 
 At the same time that political and social. 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. i) 
 
 disturbance was moving Europe to its foundations, 
 another change, possibly hastened in consequence 
 of these other vast changes, was gradually 
 taking place, especially in England. This was 
 the alteration in the position and education 
 of women, and the beginning of that total 
 subversion of old ideas which has led to the 
 establishment of women's colleges, and the 
 general admittance of women into public life. 
 Hitherto, since the days of good Queen Bess, our 
 girls had been generally left in almost complete 
 ignorance, except of domestic employment and 
 a few shallow and artificial accomplishments, one 
 notable exception to this rule being that among 
 the Society of Friends the boys and girls 
 received much the same training. But at this 
 period many gifted women, shaking off the 
 trammels of ignorance imposed upon them, ap- 
 peared before the world as authors of no mean 
 order, and the ordinary education of girls began 
 to be more attended to. At the same time 
 many among the literati found that when much 
 that they deemed precious was overlooked or 
 
10 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 scoffed at by men, it was understood and valued 
 by the more intuitive minds of women, untrained 
 as _they were. 
 
 J In such a town as Norwich — the birthplace 
 of Elizabeth Fry — this change had full scope. 
 A Cathedral town, it was not so much hurried 
 into the whirl of commercial excitement and 
 interest as many other places, and a number 
 of the inhabitants had time for Literature, Art, 
 and Pleasure. It soon became noted for its 
 brilliant, clever and sceptical society. 
 
 Upon such a world, seething with vast 
 interests, shaken by unrest and change, did baby 
 Elizabeth first open her eyes on the 21st May, 
 1780. 
 
 Her ancestors for several generations had 
 been Friends, and both her father and mother, 
 John and Catherine Gurney, were members of 
 the Society. Mrs. Gurney was the grand-daughter 
 of Robert Barclay, the Quaker Apologist. 
 
 It is impossible for anyone thoroughly to 
 comprehend Elizabeth Fry's career, who does 
 not understand something of the principles and 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 1 1 
 
 ideas which make Friends so essentially a 
 body by themselves, although they are one of 
 the most broad minded of all sects. / Compara- 
 tively few outside the Society have taken the 
 trouble to study or understand Quakerism. The 
 historic account of its rise under George Fox, 
 and the persecution of many Friends because 
 of their Peace and non-swearing principles, is 
 well known, but its spirit is little understood. 
 
 J Quakerism is the essence of Individualism. 
 Every man stands alone responsible for his own 
 actions and beliefs in the sight of God, with 
 no other man between ; and though the Bible 
 is taken as the standard of conduct, it is not 
 acknowledged as the sole communication of God's 
 will to mankind. The Quaker belief is that 
 in every man there is a spark of the Divine 
 nature left, and that only as anyone is true to 
 that light within him, which tells him he is 
 doing wrong or right, independent of all creeds 
 and doctrines, can he find and serve God. That 
 on the spirit and not the outward form of any 
 action depends its true value. Out of this arose 
 
12 ELIZABETH TRY. 
 
 many of Friends' minor ' testimonies,' as they 
 called them, such as refusing to consider one 
 place more consecrate than another, and using 
 'thee' and 'thou' when speaking to persons 
 singly. Although some of these grew in time 
 to be rather meaningless, they yet had their 
 origin in the spirit that sought to be perfectly 
 sincere in the very smallest details. 
 
 The Church Government of the Society is 
 carried out by several meetings in adjoining 
 localities sending representatives once a month 
 to a meeting convened for business purposes, 
 and several monthly meetings, in their turn, send- 
 ing representatives to a quarterly meeting. All 
 the Quarterly meetings send delegates to the 
 General Congress or Yearly Meeting held every 
 Spring in London. This is entirely democratic, 
 and although there is no voting on the questions 
 discussed, the ' feeling of the meeting ' is 
 obtained by the perfect freedom of speech which 
 prevails. 
 
 The officers of the Church are, Elders, 
 Overseers and Ministers, who are appointed by 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 13 
 
 the meeting. The ministers are unpaid, and are 
 chosen only for the reason that they seem to 
 have wisdom in helping others, and a divine 
 call to do so. 
 
 Their manner of worship is to gather to- 
 gether and worship God'* in silence, until one 
 or another, of either sex, believe that they receive 
 a call to pray aloud or speak. All rites and 
 ceremonies are dispensed with, as leading men to 
 trust for salvation to their performance, rather 
 than to integrity before God. 
 
 Friends also hold that true religion consists 
 not only in preparing for another world, but in 
 being the best possible citizens in this. Hence 
 for them there is no great distinction between 
 secular and religious; and political and social 
 movements, in as far as they affect the well- 
 being of their fellow men, claim their interest 
 and attention as a body more than that of any 
 other sect. ' I am a man, and whatever 
 concerns mankind concerns me,' is a true 
 principle of Friends. Intensely cosmopolitan, 
 they regard war as essentially wrong, and as 
 
 ^^C^^rvrrc^o^r / 
 
14 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 upsetting the fundamental relations of brother- 
 hood they hold should exist between all nations. 
 
 Such is the outline of principles, at once 
 simple and profound, stern and comprehensive, 
 which are instilled into the children of Friends 
 from their earliest years, and which never fail 
 to leave an abiding impression through any 
 number of changes of opinion in later life. 
 
 Neither Mr. John Gurney nor his wife 
 were so-called Plain Friends, — that is they did 
 not keep to the minor observances which pre- 
 vailed at this time among Friends, they neither 
 dressed nor talked peculiarly, and mixed more 
 with the gay and literary world than others, 
 stricter than they, cared for; but they were true 
 Friends in their principles and modes of thought, 
 and from their very babyhood their children 
 learnt that they were individually , and seriously 
 responsible each for themselves. Such an at- 
 mosphere cannot fail to make an active and 
 intelligent mind think earnestly as to the way 
 it goes. 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 15 
 
 To this mental earnestness and habit of 
 instrospection much that appears inexplicable in 
 Elizabeth's after life may be traced. 
 
 Till 1786 the Gurney's home was in Nor- 
 wich, but in that year they removed to Earlham, 
 an ancient family seat not far out of the 
 town, which all her life was dear to Elizabeth 
 as her old home. 
 
 There the little maiden grew up among her 
 brothers and sisters in no way remarkable. 
 Except by her mother, and a few others, she 
 was considered rather stupid and obstinate, and 
 was really inclined to be " contrary." She was 
 very fragile and extremely nervous ; childhood 
 was quite spoilt to her by terrors she was too 
 reserved to tell anyone. She believed she 
 might have been spared great after suffering if 
 at this time her fears had been known and 
 yielded to. 
 
 Happily for this delicate and susceptible 
 nature, she had a mother both tender and 
 wise. The child's love for this mother amount- 
 ed almost to a passion, and she suffered 
 
 
16 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 agonies at the mere thought of losing her. 
 
 Catherine Gurney was a woman of culture 
 and power ; she believed that a girl's mind, 
 finely balanced as it is, needs training and re- 
 plenishing as much as the stronger boy's, and 
 while not neglecting household duties, girls 
 should study languages, mathematics, history, and 
 the natural sciences. In a beautiful paragraph, 
 too long to quote here, she gives her reasons 
 for everything she thinks a girl should learn, 
 with its separate effect on the mind. 
 
 Though she only lived till Elizabeth was 
 twelve years old, her influence, intellectual and 
 moral, never died out of her child's life. 
 
 Without saying much, Catherine Gurney, led 
 her children by her very life to think of God, 
 and of His service as the highest joy on earth. 
 
 Under such holy mother-wings these children 
 nestled till death took the mother, and the 
 little half-fledged nestlings had to shift for 
 themselves. 
 
 Those who have experienced the desolation 
 of a motherless girlhood, will understand how 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 17 
 
 much of help and guidance these sisters missed 
 at this critical period of their lives, from the 
 loss of womanly tact and training; but perhaps 
 it was this very breaking down of her support, 
 which gave Elizabeth that self-dependence and 
 power of acting on her own responsibility, which 
 was of such vital use to her in after life, y 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A GIRL 8 CHOICE. 
 
 Who that one moment has the least descried Him 
 
 Dimly and faintly, hidden and afar, 
 Doth not despise all excellence beside Him, 
 
 Pleasures and powers that are not and that are, — 
 Aye amid all men bear himself thereafter 
 
 Smit with a solemn and a sweet surprise, 
 Dumb to their scorn and turning on their laughter * 
 ©nly the dominance of earnest eyes. 
 
 F. W. Myers. 
 
 XTTHEN we next see Elizabeth the frail child 
 has grown into the tall, graceful, attrac- 
 tive maiden, still sensitive, delicate and reserved, 
 but with the charm of a cultured and vivacious 
 mind. 
 
 Though not so handsome as some of her 
 sisters, the sweet thoughtful face, surrounded 
 with masses of light goldie hair, had a delicate 
 loveliness about it, like an old-fashioned sketch 
 with just a touch of colour to relieve the 
 outlines. 
 
 Her culture of mind arose more from a quick 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 19 
 
 and retentive observation than from study. She 
 never cared much for books, and after her 
 mother's death her reading had been desultory 
 and fragmentary, but this very circumstance gave 
 an originality to her thought, which made inter- 
 course with her a real intellectual pleasure. 
 
 She and her sisters are surrounded by the 
 highest mental activity and the most refined 
 enjoyments, and have all they could desire of 
 beauty, both in dress and surroundings. 
 
 As we look at this picture we think how 
 satisfied and happy this lovely and admired girl 
 must be, living no vapid or debasing existence, 
 but a life crowned with the noblest and most 
 elevating pleasure. 
 
 Seeing this fair exterior, it is most touching 
 to read her private journal at this time, in which 
 she used to write her thoughts and feelings as 
 if speaking to a friend. She describes herself 
 as ' a ship without a pilot,' ' seeing everything 
 through a black medium,' and worst of all that 
 she can understand nothing, and doubts everything. 
 
 Sooner or later to every man or woman 
 
20 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 there comes an awakening, a sort of spirit-stir, 
 which even in savage nations arouses man to 
 an overpowering sense that he is not merely a 
 higher animal. To a man this arousal frequently 
 comes in a rush of self- detestation, a humiliating 
 realization of how far he comes below even his 
 own standard of purity and goodness, and he 
 arouses himself from his fool's paradise to fight 
 with and overcome Temptation. But with women 
 it is generally different ; some glimpse of the pain 
 and travail of the world comes to them in the 
 midst of their gay, thoughtless lives, and with 
 terror and amazement they gaze on suffering 
 they are helpless to relieve. Then the mother- 
 life awakes within them, and they go out, at 
 least in spirit, from their brilliant surroundings, 
 to seek some balm for those wounded spirits. 
 They have learnt that life is sad and they 
 would fain ease it. Such is the secret story of 
 many a woman's life, and of Elizabeth Fry's. 
 
 When she was about fifteen her father took 
 her, after repeated requests, to see the women 
 at the House of Correction, at Norwich. Into 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 21 
 
 the heart of the shy, quiet, little girl, shrinking 
 by her father's side, with her slender wee hands 
 locked fast round his arm, the piteous look in 
 the faces of these women, whose lot was so 
 different from hers, sank . deep ; half un- 
 conscious and irrepressible rose in her heart the 
 terrible enquiry ' If this is the world, where is 
 God?' 
 
 From about the time she was sixteen till 
 she was eighteen, Elizabeth's ' buried life ' 
 consisted of struggle after struggle to do the 
 right she saw, and in her diary are constant 
 expressions of contempt for herself at her 
 failures, and with scorn she calls herself 'a fine 
 lady ' and * a bubble.' 
 
 The nervous attacks from which she suffered 
 much, caused her at times great physical and 
 mental depression, which makes parts of this 
 journal very pathetic, especially in contrast to 
 her external life. In her own words, she 
 wanted u some one to lean upon." It was about 
 this time that some help came to Elizabeth 
 from two friends who were among the many who 
 
22 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 frequented their house. One was a Roman 
 Catholic, but a man of very broad views; in 
 every discussion which arose he would turn to 
 the New Testament, in which he said he found 
 answers which really satisfied him. The other 
 was Miss Galton, afterwards Mrs. Schimmelpen- 
 nick ; she had known the struggle • and despair 
 of doubt, and the thoughtful Gurney girls 
 respected her honesty, and when gradually her 
 views changed and she accepted the faith she 
 had once renounced, it was a great encourage- 
 ment to them. 
 
 But Elizabeth wanted something more personal. 
 She did not much care at this time for going 
 to meeting, and partly from ill-health almost 
 gave up attending, until her dearly-loved uncle, 
 John Gurney, used his influence with her to 
 encourage her to go, pointing out that she should 
 use every opportunity of finding God ; but we can 
 imagine that the hours of silent restless heart- 
 searching, seeking rest and finding none, that she 
 must have endured there, made it very wearisome. 
 
 A little before Elizabeth was eighteen, the sisters 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 23 
 
 were rejoiced to hear that an American Friend, 
 William Savary, from the yearly meeting, was 
 coming on a visit to their meeting. Richenda 
 Gurney said they always looked forward to such 
 visits as being a little change. 
 
 All seven sisters went to meeting that 
 Sunday morning. After a short time William 
 Savary rose to speak. One of her sisters, who 
 had been taken up with admiring Elizabeth's 
 somewhat smart attire, was amazed to see her 
 apathetic attitude change to one of earnest 
 attention, and big tears begin soon to roll down 
 her cheeks. All the remaining time she wept 
 uncontrolably, a most unusual thing for the proud 
 reserved girl ; and after the meeting astonished 
 everyone by asking to go to her uncle's house 
 to meet William Savary. Of the words he 
 spoke that day we have no record, but the 
 effect on this unsatisfied girl was that she ' felt 
 there was a God.' 
 
 Her great fear was that excitement and not 
 Truth was the cause of this feeling, and that 
 it would soon pass away. For many months 
 
24 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 following, her vigourous mind, naturally sceptical, 
 kept her in constant dread of being led away 
 by feeling, to trust on insufficient grounds to 
 those ■ Truths that never can be proved.' 
 Better no guide than a false one, was her un- 
 hesitating judgment. 
 
 } At this point the crisis of her life took 
 place. In 1798 Elizabeth was taken up to 
 London by her father, and left there to see 
 the world. 
 
 With all the zest of a young girl unsatiated 
 with pleasure she entered into the gaiety and 
 novelty of a London Season, in the highest 
 and most refined Society, where she was well 
 fitted to shine. 
 
 Here she saw the very best side of worldly 
 enjoyment and was introduced to some of the 
 most distinguished men and women of the day. 
 
 On Sundays, and some evenings when there 
 was no opera or play on, she would go to 
 Friends' meeting, where she heard William 
 Savary and others like-minded speak. 
 
 Seldom even in these days, and still more 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 25 
 
 in those, is a girl placed where two such opposite 
 roads meet as represented by the whirl of 
 gaiety and those quiet little meetings, and left 
 perfectly free to take which path she chose, as 
 was this girl, and rare indeed was the choice 
 she made. 
 
 Without any outside compulsion or religious 
 enthusiasm, this young and eager soul turned 
 deliberately from the brilliance of the best the 
 world could give to follow the ' via crucis.' 
 
 It is ^asy to appear to be in the world 
 but not of it, if every circumstance of life and 
 training has placed a person out of its reach : 
 it is when one is brought into fascinating con- 
 tact with it that the test is real. 
 
 This sunny-haired girl was really not of 
 the world, neither its glamour nor its homage 
 could satisfy her starry nature, while she 1VH 
 in the quiet of the plain meeting-house that 
 there was something which could fill her life 
 if she could only attain to it, and at all c< 
 she determined to get it if it could be had, 
 
 It must have seemed a pity then that 
 
26 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 Society should lose one so fitted to influence 
 all around her for good, by her earnest purity 
 and elevated mind, and that she should with- 
 draw into the comparative obscurity and peculiarity 
 of plain Quakerism. 
 
 Had, however, Elizabeth Gurney chosen 
 differently, she might have lived a beautiful and 
 useful life, but the work that Elizabeth Fry 
 accomplished could not have been done, and 
 never here can we tell to how many perishing 
 souls this one woman's via cruris proved the 
 via lucis. 
 
 After this, as she wrote thirty years later, 
 she gave up going to all places of public 
 amusement, because she saw that even if they 
 did not hurt her personally they tended to 
 promote evil, and behind the scenes led many 
 from the paths of right and chastity ; so hence- 
 forth she turned to give her mind wholly to 
 seeking God and His will. 
 
 She returned home 'full of this determination. 
 Her choice was made, but the struggle was not 
 over. — 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 27 
 
 "We cannot kindle when we will 
 
 The fire that in the heart resides ; 
 The spirit bloweth and is still, 
 In mystery our soul abides. 
 
 But tasks in hours of insight will'd 
 Can be through hours of gloom fulfill' d. M 
 
 And it was through months of silent self- 
 repression and painful questionings that Elizabeth 
 
 became a plain Friend. 
 
 It was a time of real conflict. Night after 
 night she dreamed that she was being washed 
 away by a dark rough sea with no help near, 
 till one night, as she dreamed the same terrifying 
 dream, she thought she was lifted on to a 
 rock far beyond the reach of the hungry waves. 
 
 From this she took some comfort, though 
 greatly afraid of superstition. 
 
 She had no intention of becoming in any 
 way peculiar, and especially did she shrink from 
 joining with strict Friends, lest her wish to do 
 so should arise from a merely human love for, 
 and admiration of, those who had been such 
 help to her. 
 
 Her family, too, were opposed to the severity 
 
2S ELIZABETH PRY. 
 
 of dress and speech observed among those who 
 were so called, deeming it unwise and likely to 
 lead to peculiarity for peculiarity's sake. Elizabeth 
 was also much influenced by her sister Rachel. 
 These two had always been special friends, and 
 Rachel grieved bitterly over what she deemed 
 her sister's folly ; for several months she would 
 plead with Elizabeth to join once more in all 
 their ordinary pursuits and pleasures, and only 
 desisted when she saw it grieved her sister 
 without making any difference in her opinions. 
 
 / After long hesitation, and particularly after 
 a visit to some Friends at Colebrook, Elizabeth 
 felt so sure it was her right course to take her 
 stand as a plain Quakeress, though willing to 
 wait till her friends thought so too, that they 
 gave their reluctant sanction to her becoming 
 such, and this she remained till the end of 
 her life. 
 
 She gradually renounced many little pleasures 
 and brightnesses on consciencious grounds, changed 
 her pretty dresses for the plain gown and 
 kerchief of Friends, and gave up her favourite 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 29 
 
 amusements of dancing and singing. She had 
 been passionately fond of both, especially sing- 
 ing, but she felt they moved and excited her 
 too much, and that the emotion caused by 
 music was ■ not true Religion,' which she believed 
 to be 'in a deeper recess of the heart where 
 no earthly passion can produce it/j 
 
 All through her diary at this time there are 
 touching illusions to little dissensions that arose 
 about these and other scruples of hers, and to 
 the pang with which she refused to dance with 
 her brother John, or annoyed her father, for 
 whom, she writes, she would sacrifice anything.^ 
 She also took up what was a great cross to 
 her sensitive nature, that of saying ' thee ' and 
 1 thou.' She describes, with some humour, how 
 she ran away on catching sight of one of her 
 fashionable friends because she dared not say 
 1 thou ' to him. v 
 
 That these abnegations were unnecessary 
 and absurd is the verdict of many in these days, 
 but looking over the finished life, we can 
 that without the self-government and self-control 
 
30 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 which were the outcome of these minutiae of 
 Elizabeth's discipline of herself, the work she 
 had afterwards to perform could not have been 
 done nearly so effectively, if at all. 
 
 A man in training for rowing or running 
 needs to give up many things it would be 
 meaningless for those not entering the contest 
 to abandon, but no one thinks the trainer has 
 made a mistake when he insists on these sacri- 
 fices. Nor has God : He knows the future of every 
 life and the circumstances in which every human 
 being will be placed, and He knows what He 
 is about when He prepares them for those 
 circumstances. Yet when He trains His people 
 for a particular purpose, the world jeers at the 
 obedience shown to what they believe to be 
 His will. 
 
 Meanwhile Elizabeth occupied herself in 
 loving service to all around her, beginning at 
 home, where she was a helpful friend to her 
 brothers and sisters, and then extending it out- 
 side to rich and poor alike. 
 
 By her tireless energy she established a 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 31 
 
 school, which increased from one little boy to 
 seventy children. These she taught all by herself, 
 without assistance. 
 
 During a visit to the North with her father 
 in 1799, Elizabeth was chosen one of the 
 Committee for examining the children of Ackworth 
 school. A characteristic little scene took place 
 while they were here. When the Committee, 
 which was composed wholly of young members, 
 came to make their report, and they were asked 
 their opinion, none would speak. Elizabeth, 
 seeing the meeting was delayed, although ex- 
 tremely shy and nervous, braced herself to the 
 occasion and broke the ice by telling her mind 
 on the examination entrusted to her. A straw 
 shows which way the wind blows, and the girl 
 who, though trembling, took the disagreeable 
 initiative on herself when she saw no one else was 
 inclined to do it, was made of the same stuff as 
 the u woman who afterwards braved the world's 
 opinion to take hope and light to the vilest 
 and most degraded of her kind. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE BACK OF THE WARP AND WOOF. 
 
 Our many thoughts and deeds, our life and love, 
 
 Our happiness, and all that we have been, 
 Immortally must live, and burn and move 
 
 When we shall be no more ; —the world has seen 
 A type of peace ; and as some most serene 
 
 And lovely spot to a poor maniac's eye 
 After long years, some sweet and moving scene 
 
 Of youthful hope returning suddenly, 
 Quells his long madness — thus man shall remember thee. 
 
 Shelley. 
 
 /~\ UICKLY the months sped on, uneventful save 
 ^^ to Elizabeth's hidden life, and once more the 
 scene is changed. Scarcely past the first bloom 
 of girlhood, Elizabeth Gurney is the promised 
 bride of Joseph Fry of London. 
 
 It was not without much hesitation that she 
 had accepted his offer ; she wished to use her life 
 to the best possible advantage for God as far 
 as she could see, and was fearful that marriage 
 at this time of mental disquietude and uncer- 
 tainty, would prove a tie to mere earthly things. 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 33 
 
 There seemed in her mind a prophetic stir of 
 coming duties which would be outside the usual 
 sphere of a woman's life, very vague and un- 
 formed, but enough to make her uneasy at the 
 prospect of binding herself to wifehood, and 
 possible motherhood. To the best of her 
 ability she deliberately faced this question in 
 the solitude of that secret place of judgment, 
 which this girl, child almost as she was, had made 
 for herself during those months of self-conquest 
 she had passed through ; and she made it a 
 prayer, as we see from her diary, that if she 
 was to have a home and children of her own 
 her duties might lie with * them, but that if in 
 the future she would have to leave 'the safe 
 sweet corner by the fireside,' it might be in 
 single life. 
 
 But God knew best, and gave her a pre- 
 paration better than she asked, and His negative 
 to that prayer, even we can see, was filled with 
 richer blessing than an affirmative could have 
 been. 
 
 At this time she confessed to a cousin that 
 
34 
 
 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 to marry would upset all her pet theories and 
 plans for herself in life. But after somewhat 
 prolonged and painful deliberation, in the quaint 
 Quaker phrase, Elizabeth ' felt free ' to marry, 
 and accepted Joseph Fry. 
 
 We wonder if he realized at all then what 
 a rare and precious treasure was that heart, 
 which its young owner gave him with such 
 hesitation and so many fears, lest in being so 
 given it should not be so wholly true to the 
 task of seeking only God ! 
 
 They were married, after the simple but 
 impressive manner of Friends, at the Norwich 
 Meeting House, on the 19th of August, 1800; 
 and, after a brief stay with his parents at 
 Plashet House, Joseph Fry took his bride to 
 the more gloomy Mildred's Court, in London, 
 where he, as junior partner in the business 
 firm to which he belonged, was obliged to live. 
 In this house they remained till 1809, and here 
 they had five children born to them. 
 
 At first Elizabeth Fry found her new life 
 rather difficult. She had married into a family 
 
ELIZABETH IKY. 35 
 
 belonging to the straitest order of Friends, and 
 soon discovered that she was considered quite 
 a ' worldly ' member of it. At home her 
 difficulty had been not to try those she loved 
 by unnecessary strictness while keeping firmly to 
 what she considered right, here her sensitive 
 nature suffered from the scruples of others, 
 while yet she feared to be drawn into the pro- 
 fession of more than she felt. This gradually 
 righted itself as Elizabeth Fry, still keeping her 
 breadth of mind, cast in her lot more complete- 
 ly with that of her husband and his people. 
 
 Another perplexity was Family Reading. It 
 had not been the custom in her husband's 
 home, but with Elizabeth it was a principle to 
 acknowledge God, as a family, at the beginning 
 of the day. The young wife had the courage 
 to introduce it, although with a great effort, 
 for she did not like it to appear that she and 
 her husband, both young people, should profess 
 more than those who had lived there before 
 them, and especially hard did she find it to 
 remind her husband before his relatives, or the 
 
36 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 Friends who often stayed with them. Neverthe- 
 less, she gained her point, and eventually the 
 approbation of those whose opinion she valued. 
 
 During the first May, and in the succeeding 
 years, Mildred's Court became quite a resort of 
 Friends who came to London for the Yearly 
 Meetings, as well as at other times. 
 
 The years that followed Elizabeth's marriage 
 were very quiet. The diamond seemed quite 
 buried, only stray gleams of an exceptional 
 character shone now and again through the 
 duties and cares of an ordinary life. 
 
 The Indian weaving all day at his loom 
 sees not the symmetrical pattern as it grows 
 on the other side : he places the threads as 
 he had been taught they should go, and when 
 at night he turns his work the colours show 
 fair in perfect order. So the lives of nearly 
 all those who have shone out in any kind of 
 splendour have had periods like this, and only 
 after the lapse of silent years is the web 
 turned and the result seen. 
 
 No one who watched the ' care-worn wife 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 37 
 
 and mother/ as at twenty-seven Elizabeth 
 described herself, making the wheels of an 
 ordinary household run smoothly, cheering her 
 husband's life as a real helpmate, and training 
 her little children, would have dreamed of the 
 strange and stirring future in store for her; 
 nor how that one weak woman-hand should by 
 the strength of indignation and love shake the 
 iniquitous prison system of that day to its 
 foundations, and be the main instrument in 
 introducing an entirely new regimen. 
 
 Meanwhile she was the centre of a very 
 sweet home circle, besides husband and children, 
 one of her favourite brothers, Samuel Gurney, 
 made Mildred's Court his home whilst learning 
 business in London. In 1804 Joseph Fry's 
 mother died, after which Elizabeth became more 
 than ever a real daughter and stay to her 
 husband's father. 
 
 Nor did she allow these pressing home 
 claims to shut her out entirely from the world 
 of suffering human beings in the largest and 
 saddest city in the world, when-, unless we are 
 
38 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 on the look out to help others, they may die 
 almost at our doors without our knowing. 
 
 She was not content with merely giving 
 money, but whenever possible would try to gain 
 admittance to homes in great contrast to her 
 own happy one, often finding her way to places 
 from entering which the boldest might shrink. 
 It had not then become fashionable to go 
 " slumming," and rare indeed was such a visit- 
 ant in those miserable homes. Once on a bitter 
 day a woman holding a little child, evidently 
 very ill with whooping cough, stopped and beg- 
 ged of her. Mrs. Fry asked where she lived, 
 but after a few evasive answers the woman 
 moved off. Her heart swelled with pity for the 
 child, Elizabeth Fry followed and tracked the 
 woman to a wretched den in a most disreputable 
 locality. Entering, she found to her horror that 
 on the floor lay a number of children utterly 
 uncared for, several being in the last stages of 
 disease. The next day she sent her doctor 
 there, but the woman, whom they learned farmed 
 these children from the parish, had disappeared. 
 
UtflTSBSITy) 
 
 39 
 
 Such were the places into which she would 
 fearlessly go. She also became a Visitor to the 
 Friends' School and Workhouse, at Islington. It 
 was a great effort to her to speak before others, 
 even to these children, and yet, as her own heart, 
 grew fuller of comfort, she began to feel she 
 ought to pass it on openly to others. Her 
 impassioned nature would not always let her 
 rest passively in this placid life. Women of 
 capability often have their times of feeling, like 
 a war-horse hearing the sound of the battle, 
 yet bound down to a cart, and Elizabeth Fry was 
 no exception. Physical weakness enforced long 
 rests which were extremely irksome to her, and 
 in 1808 we find passages in her diary showing 
 how she sometimes chafed, and felt keenly t In- 
 difference between her present position and that 
 of usefulness to the cause of God on earth 
 which in her girlhood she had hoped to occupy. 
 
 Though she took great pains to have 
 everything in perfect order her tastes were not 
 nally domestic, and to her, as to almost all 
 high-spirited and intellectual women, the details 
 
40 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 of household management were a weariness to 
 the flesh. 
 
 This, however, did not prevent her from 
 performing these feminine duties bravely and 
 well. Then, and in after years, her account 
 books and arrangements were kept with business- 
 like precision and exactness, and if sometimes 
 bitter tears of disappointment and impatience 
 fell over them no one but God knew till years 
 after when those tears were wiped away. 
 
 Her father-in-law's illness, which preceded 
 his death in 1808, was cheered by her sweet 
 presence, and soon after this she went to nurse 
 her sister Hannah through scarlet fever, though 
 not without many misgivings on account of her 
 little ones, and especially of her baby. Elizabeth 
 Fry was not a tragic heroine and did not 
 scorn fear such as this, but we love her all 
 the better for being a true woman and not a 
 salamander. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE DELIVERER UNBOUND. 
 
 Witness the women, of his children sweetest, 
 Scarcely earth seeth them but earth shall see, 
 
 Thou in their woe thine agony completest — 
 Christ, and their solitude is nigh to thee. 
 
 Eager and faint, impassionate and lonely, 
 These in their hour shall prophesy again, 
 
 This is His will who hath endured, and only 
 Sendeth the promise where He sends the pain. 
 
 F. W. Myers. 
 
 PTPHE immediate result of his father's death 
 was that Joseph Fry removed his house- 
 hold to Plashet, the beautiful family house in 
 Essex. 
 
 To his wife, the change from smoky, 
 murky London to the quiet of a country home, 
 surrounded by extensive grounds, was an exquis- 
 ite pleasure. The bustle and din of the great 
 city had told on the sensitive frame more than 
 anyone had realised, and those who know how 
 greatly the mind is dependent on the body will 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 42 
 
 understand what unspeakable refreshment to 
 the tired young mother's brain and heart were 
 the country sights and sounds of the Fry's new 
 home. 
 
 To the household at Plashet her tall, 
 graceful figure, followed by two or three little 
 ones laden with trowels and baskets, setting 
 out on some gardening expedition, became a 
 familiar sight. She loved flowers, . . this quiet 
 self-repressed woman, so like a flower herself in 
 her " nervous frailty, so sweet, yet instinct with 
 silent life and power. Primroses were her 
 special favourites, and in her spare hours she 
 and the children filled every nook and corner 
 of the plantations with them. 
 
 In the autumn of this year Elizabeth's 
 sixth child — a boy — was born. She was still 
 very prostrate when suddenly summoned to 
 Earlham to say farewell to her dying father. 
 
 Time for one lingering loving clasp, one 
 parting blessing, and he was gone. Kneeling by 
 his side, one of her soft hands still grasped in 
 his cold one, Elizabeth forgot herself in a vivid 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 43 
 
 realization of the freedom gained by that father 
 so peculiarly dear to her, and almost unconsci- 
 ously her lips, sealed for so many years by 
 reserve and timidity, were opened, and, to the 
 surprise of all, she praised God for the dead 
 and prayed aloud for the living. 
 
 Thus through agony were the silent lips 
 first opened that hereafter should speak comfort 
 to so many forlorn and despairing hearts, and 
 the voice first raised that should thrill with hope 
 through the very lazar house and charnel of 
 Earth's degradation and misery. Thus ever and 
 ever ' out of suffering God bringeth gain,' ever 
 and ever ■ our cedars must fall around us ere 
 we see the light behind.' 
 
 Elizabeth Fry was not one of those to 
 whom it is easy or natural to speak out their 
 deepest feelings ; beside being extremely reserved 
 she had a horror of cant and a great fear of 
 speaking about things she saw but dimly, but 
 for sometime past she had felt that she should 
 not keep to herself the peace and comfort she 
 had found, 
 
44 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 Amid the sorrows and struggles of the 
 surging human life around her she had seen 
 how useless was the best she could give alone, 
 had seen that compassion was helpless, and love 
 all unavailing to succour or to save one tempted 
 soul, but it was only in her own pain that she 
 found strength to say to such — 
 
 " Dear heart, I have found the Master, 
 
 He is sweet beyond compare, 
 He will save and comfort thy weary soul, 
 
 He will make thee white and fair ; 
 Not as I gave thee will He give, 
 But wine divine and rare." 
 
 At her father's funeral Elizabeth spoke publicly 
 the same words she had said in his room. 
 
 From that day, in spite of nervousness and 
 self-questionings, she began to speak at meetings 
 and at various other times and places. Well 
 was it for many a way-worn heart that this 
 woman belonged to a Society which allows 
 public utterance to all its members, where 
 neither sex nor any artificial barrier is inter- 
 posed to hinder the expression of a heartfelt 
 message, and where, at least in theory, only 
 such messages are acceptable. 
 
ELIZABETH FEY. 45 
 
 The "effect on Elizabeth Fry herself of this 
 dreaded ordeal, from which 'she had shrunk so 
 long, was entirely good. In thinking of those 
 to whom she spoke, and of the Master whose 
 message she believed herself to be delivering, 
 she forgot her nervous terror of hearing her 
 own voice, and in giving expression to the 
 eager spirit-life within her, ideas hitherto vague 
 and ill-defined took shape and reality, and her 
 store of knowledge and comfort and hope in- 
 creased in the very act of giving out. That 
 she undertook preaching from a sense of duty 
 and not from any desire for notoriety is shewn 
 both by her letters and diary. 
 
 In writing to a friend she says that, as 
 way had been made for her, she dared not 
 stop, but that her wish was that her speaking 
 should end as soon as possible if it were not 
 the right way for her to work ; she trembled 
 lest from any secret wish to exalt herself she 
 should be led into a course which would hinder 
 the perfect performance of her duties as wife 
 and mother, and in seeking to help those out- 
 
46 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 side she should neglect the commoner and 
 nearer trust. 
 
 It was not long before she was encouraged 
 by being formally recognized by Friends as a 
 minister. This recognition in the Society implies 
 that the members believe such an one to have 
 been gifted with a real power to serve others, 
 not as an orator or learned person, but as one 
 who living near to God in daily life had clearer 
 insight than others into Spiritual things, and a 
 Divine Gift to speak straight to the hearts and 
 consciences of those that heard. Those that 
 listened to Elizabeth Fry even in these early days 
 felt that there was something special in her 
 speaking, not due to eloquence, but to some- 
 thing deeper and truer in her than in most 
 people. 
 
 Neither belief nor speech was conventional- 
 ity to this intense and earnest nature. After 
 the yearly meeting, during which she had been 
 recorded as a minster, from entries in her diary 
 we find she felt to have had fresh evidences 
 that there truly was a God and One who could 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 47 
 
 communicate real help in this weary life through 
 those who would speak just what they believed 
 sincerely to have learned from Him. A strange 
 and humble confession from a preacher. This 
 she had learned, she writes, from the words of 
 others, and from having been able herself to 
 minister almost, she can believe, from the living 
 source. 
 
 " I find it," writes this brave true woman, " an 
 awful thing to rise amongst a large assembly, 
 and unless much covered with love and power, 
 hardly know how to venture." 
 
 About this time she was brought into con- 
 tact with several belonging to different sects, 
 and at a point when most women would have 
 been in great danger of degenerating into narrow- 
 ness, her powerful mind overstepped the barriers 
 of outward forms and began to realize the 
 unity which earnest souls, however widely 
 differing in opinion, may feel, as being together 
 seekers after God and His Eternal Truth. 
 Those, too, who knew her learnt to understand 
 in some degree this unity of spirit, her simplic- 
 
48 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 ity breaking down prejudice in a way that the 
 greatest self-assertion could never have done. 
 
 In the end of 1 8 1 1 she was in Norwich 
 during the time of a meeting of the Bible 
 Society. People belonging to all sects and 
 parties attended it, and many of them stayed 
 or took their meals at the hospitable house at 
 Earlham. 
 
 Mrs. Fry had a great dread of feeling 
 obliged to speak before the clergymen and 
 others assembled. 
 
 One day as they were at dinner, thirty- four 
 being present, just as the meal was ended, and 
 during the moment of silence observed among 
 Friends, to the great surprise of most present, 
 Elizabeth Fry knelt and prayed. Astonishment 
 and prejudice were soon forgotten, and as the 
 low clear tones vibrated a wave of genuine 
 emotion swept over even the most conventional 
 present. She had forgotten herself, and those 
 kneeling around her also forgot all save that 
 from an earnest heart rose the expression 
 of many a secret desire and longing of their 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 49 
 
 own, and for a few minutes at least amid tears, 
 of which they were not ashamed, human need 
 stretched unfeigned hands to the God who 
 heareth such prayer. 
 
 After she rose several others spoke, differ- 
 ing views were lost sight of, and they felt that 
 they were all in one common brotherhood. 
 
 In her diary Elizabeth Fry noted with 
 surprise that one poor woman should have been 
 the means of bringing all that company so 
 near to one another, and causing them to praise 
 God. 
 
 During these years Mrs. Fry's time was by 
 no means all taken up with public speaking. 
 At Plashet her name became a household word 
 by many a fireside. She did not shut herself 
 up in her beautiful home, but was a real friend 
 to her neighbours of all classes. 
 
 Then and ever she hated the so-called 
 religion that leads those who have all they can 
 wish for to go and preach, a la William Par- 
 diggle, to the ignorant and starving, with no 
 thought of the ache of physical hunger, the 
 
50 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 darkness of ignorance or the despair of grind- 
 ing poverty. 
 
 When she went among those that were 
 poor it was with hands filled for their relief 
 and comfort in this life, with a heart of fruitful 
 sympathy for such mundane things as an ailing 
 child, or the thin garments and meagre fare of 
 the growing boys and girls which, pinch and 
 save as they would, the patient mother and 
 hard working father could not improve. And 
 not only to the ' deserving poor ' did she extend 
 this sympathy ; she shewed it especially to the 
 inhabitants of a miserable hamlet called Irish 
 Row, about half a mile from Plashet House. 
 To this dirty and disreputable place came a 
 new influence, not that of a white-winged angel, 
 whose presence would hardly have seemed con- 
 gruous, but of a white - souled woman who 
 knew the worries and cares of daily life, and 
 understood all about wakeful nights with the 
 baby, and the romping children who made it so 
 difficult to keep all clean and tidy. Knowing 
 these things, she did not begin by preaching, 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 51 
 
 but by encouraging cleanliness and order with 
 little helpful rewards, and by her loving and 
 sympathizing visits, in which she tried to teach 
 the warm-hearted but thriftless Irish women 
 something of her own neatness and method. 
 
 After rendering such practical aid Mrs. Fry 
 tried to give them something to satisfy the 
 desires, which, relieved from the most pressing 
 cares, these people in their darkness began to 
 feel. 
 
 With the consent of the priest, whose esteem 
 and allegiance had been won by her kindness 
 to his flock in a time of great want and 
 distress, she gave Bibles to many of them, and 
 such booklets as she liked and thought would 
 meet their need. 
 
 She had a little medical knowledge in the 
 simpler cases of illness, and was particularly 
 strong on the necessity of vaccination. With 
 her own hands Bhe vaccinated many children in 
 the neighbourhood, and succeeded in almost 
 Btamping the deadly smallpox out of the village 
 
 by her assistance as to this. 
 
52 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 She was called once to see a Gypsy child 
 who was very ill in the encampment at Plashet 
 she nursed him back to life herself, and ever 
 after exercised a great influence over the Gypsies 
 who came there annually. 
 
 Soon after the Frys came to live at Plashet 
 Mrs. Fry, with the aid of a young woman 
 named Harriet Howell, and several others, 
 succeeded in getting a school for girls establish- 
 ed for the parish of Eastham on the Lancasterian 
 system. 
 
 Meantime her household cares grew more 
 onerous, two more little ones being added to 
 her family in 1811 and 18 12, while the increased 
 number of servants required more constant and 
 watchful superintendence. 
 
 Thus amid the 'details, joys and cares of 
 such a life as any earnest loving woman might 
 lead, the hour drew nearer in which all Europe 
 should ring with the name of the obscure 
 Quakeress, and there should shine upon her 
 hitherto uneventful life something of that fierce 
 light which beats upon a throne. , 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE SHADOW OF DEATH. 
 
 Is there not wrong too bitter for atoning, 
 What are these desperate and hideous years? 
 
 Hast Thou not heard Thy whole creation groaning, 
 Sighs of a bondsman, and a woman's tears. 
 
 P. W. Myers. 
 
 rpHE storm had burst, long years of oppression 
 and despair in France had culminated in 
 the Revolution and the Reign of Terror, the 
 1 canard,' treated like brutes, embruted, had 
 stopped at nothing in their hideous revenge. 
 It was an age of retribution ; shuddering, and 
 with strange wonder, the world watched the 
 reaping of the whirlwind from the sowing of 
 the wind, yet without learning that the wild 
 beast fostered in man will surely spring one day ; 
 
 when Rome long ago tried the experiment 
 to her own destruction, so deaf and blind and 
 
 i hk ss men still wrought their own ruin, and 
 when it came cursed, not themselves and their 
 
54 ELIZABETH PRY 
 
 folly, but the God who had warned them. 
 
 In the prisons of England, and indeed of 
 all Europe, carelessness, neglect, and cruelty 
 were exercising their disasterous effects, so that 
 crime increased with an alarming rapidity to the 
 surprise of those who would not study the 
 cause. 
 
 The gleam of light brought into these dark 
 places by the noble labours of John Howard, 
 had died out, the reform in the laws were al- 
 most unattended to. Those who entered a 
 prison, condemned or uncondemned, were con- 
 sidered lawful prey by the officials and their 
 fellow prisoners, and neither sex nor age was 
 respected. 
 
 Into small and fetid rooms prisoners were 
 crowded with no attempt at classification, and 
 those who had committed venial offences were 
 placed with the most desperate characters. 
 
 Each prison was a training school for vice 
 of every description, those who went in com- 
 paratively pure often came out versed in every 
 kind of devilry. 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 55 
 
 In England especially prison management 
 became notoriously disgraceful. 
 
 From Government reports in 1818 we find, 
 that out of the five hundred and eighteen prisons 
 in the United Kingdom, fifty- nine had no 
 separate division whatever for the women, and 
 one hundred and thirty-six had only one. These 
 prisons were not the well-built, well-ventilated 
 buildings of the present day, but old gaols, 
 many with underground dungeons, and when 
 these were full, ancient castles and gate houses 
 were utilized without regard to their suitability. 
 There were only two gaol deliveries a year, so 
 that amid the horrors of the living graves an 
 innocent person might be kept, and frequently 
 was, for six months, and perhaps only to go 
 out to die of disease contracted there. 
 
 The prisoners were completely at the mercy 
 
 of the keepers, themselves of the very dregs of 
 
 society. Torture and abuse of every kind 
 
 (1 unnoticed; money was wrong unsparingly 
 
 from the unhappy prisoners or their friends for 
 
 •\ ' alleviation allowed, and innocent persons, or 
 
56 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 prisoners whose sentence was out, were often 
 detained for alleged debts to these harpies ; 
 while the very food was irregularly given, and 
 in some gaols the inmates were almost entirely 
 dependent on outsiders for subsistence. 
 
 Over all this misery spread the dark wings 
 of death — not only did damp and gaol -fever 
 and despair claim their victims, but the gallows 
 reaped an abundant harvest. Three hundred 
 minor crimes sent men and women to the scaffold. 
 
 The ill-appointed prisons were too full and 
 too loathsome, the overplus of prisoners must 
 die to make room for others. The murderers 
 and the utterer of a false one pound note died 
 the same terrible and unnatural death. In every 
 assize town hanging was as common as day- 
 light, and those who witnessed public executions 
 say that no words can adequately describe the 
 horrors of those scenes. 
 
 Society cared not ; what were such creatures 
 to the rich and the happy ? Let us eat, drink, 
 and be merry, it is only our brother who dies 
 to-morrow. What recked it to pampered women 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 57 
 
 with all they could wish for, that the haggard 
 young mother, from whose despairing gaze they 
 turned so disdainfully, died the death of shame 
 for stealing a piece of cloth in which to wrap 
 her shivering baby,* or that little children, 
 pretty and innocent as their own, grew familiar 
 in those grim schools, with crimes they would 
 shudder to hear mentioned, and come out from 
 the gaol only too soon to return to the con- 
 demned cell. Nothing caring, they passed by 
 on the other side. 
 
 Wearily in these places of misery passed 
 the hours of the day, vacant but for occasional 
 fights with each other, or with the horrible 
 vermin that infested the open sewers which in 
 some of the gaols ran through the cells, — more 
 wearily dragged the slow hours of the night 
 when the clank of chains fell heavily and the 
 stillness was broken by the moaning of fettered 
 women and the crying of little children. 
 
 Surely the eyes of God rested not on these 
 eharnel houses, nor to His ear eame the wail 
 ♦A fa.t. 
 
58 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 of the oppressed and tortured creatures lingering 
 there ! 
 
 Yet in one quiet home in Plashet, where 
 a woman knelt and prayed, He was preparing 
 a deliverer for those who deemed Him deaf 
 and blind. 
 
 It is Newgate in 1813. Hell above ground 
 men call it. Three hundred women are huddled 
 together in the part known as the untried wing. 
 Even the noxious atmosphere cannot keep out 
 the bitter February chill, and the poorly-fed 
 women shiver in scanty clothes, while the 
 children creep close to one another in the corners 
 of the wards. 
 
 Many of the prisoners are drinking liquor 
 purchased at the prison tap with the proceeds 
 of begging from any strangers venturesome 
 enough to come within earshot. Few indeed 
 they were, and the Governor himself, even with 
 a military guard, hardly dared to enter this 
 part of Newgate. 
 
 Only separated from the prisoners by double 
 iron gratings the lowest of the London rabble 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 59 
 
 held communication with their friends within 
 the prison. 
 
 The long dark February day drags on, 
 wilder and fiercer grows the clamour as the 
 prisoners infuriated by drink quarrel and swear, 
 while new-comers gaze terrified on the crowd 
 of loathsome and degraded creatures who hardly 
 seem like women. 
 
 The door clicks, who dares to enter this 
 pandemonium ? Doubtless some new victim, one 
 more hungry mouth to share the food already 
 too scarce — curse the fates that send her ! 
 
 A sudden stillness, and murmur of surprise. 
 No new bloated or haggard face marked by 
 vice, and hardened by despair meets their 
 astonished gaze, but, instead, looks of com- 
 passion in pitying eyes. 
 
 Two women have entered both dressed as 
 Quakeresses, on the taller all eyes are turned. 
 She, with her keen glance, seems to be taking in 
 every detail. Pure as a visitant from another world 
 Btanda Elizabeth Fry among those fallen women, 
 and with her another Friend, Anna Buxton. 
 
60 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 Not a hand was stretched out to rob those 
 two, unprotected save by their fearless trust, as 
 they "moved from one to another, their watches 
 hanging openly at their sides, and the silence 
 is scarcely broken save by a gentle pitiful voice 
 and low sobs from those who had never before 
 seen that sister-look bent on them, in the eyes 
 of an undegraded woman. 
 
 The most hardened felt a thrill as they 
 looked into the sweet face, so calmly strong, 
 and still young, and met there divine, com- 
 passionate love, when they would have expected 
 scorn and disgust, while into their dark souls 
 gleamed r dimlyJ* a sense of hope and forgive- 
 ness. 
 
 The next day, and the next, they came 
 bringing with them garments for the half- 
 clothed women, which Elizabeth Fry with her 
 children and friends had made, and then their 
 visits had to cease. But before they left, 
 amid that rabble, they knelt hand in hand 
 and prayed aloud for those, who too were 
 God's children. Almost all knelt ; to some 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 61 
 
 childish hours came back, while others heard 
 prayer for the first time, and they wept, 
 looking up for one moment through the human 
 love to the Divine. 
 
 That hour lived on — to the poor captives 
 with a whisper of mercy and pardon — to one 
 at least of those two so alien to that sad 
 place, as an appeal to her from helpless and 
 hopeless sisters, which, though unable then to 
 respond to it, she could never forget. 
 
 In the valley of the shadow of Death, 
 though none yet knew it, the day had 
 dawned. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 RIPENING. 
 
 Say not the struggle naught availeth 
 The labour and the wounds are vain, 
 
 The evening faints not, nor faileth, 
 And as things have been they remain. 
 
 ***** 
 
 For while the tired waves, vainly breaking, 
 Seem here no painful inch to gain, 
 
 Far back, through cracks and inlets making, 
 Comes silent, flooding in the main. 
 
 Arthur Hugh Clough. 
 
 TT"TE must go back a little to see how 
 
 Elizabeth Fry came to be in Newgate. 
 
 In the Autumn of 1812 it was proposed 
 
 that the Frys should winter in London, at 
 
 Mildred's Court. Mrs. Fry very much dreaded 
 
 the prospect, eventually settled, and the family 
 
 moved there in November. 
 
 We get little glimpses of Elizabeth's inner 
 
 life at this time from her diary. Hers was 
 
 a nature that could pass through experiences 
 
 in a few hours which, with others less finely 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 63 
 
 constituted, might extend perhaps over years. 
 Such would hardly understand passages in 
 which she records passing through so much 
 during a public meeting that she felt quite 
 shaken ; or feeling ' alive spiritually/ 
 
 Probably, too, this life of hers was all the 
 more intense from being hidden. Seldom do 
 we find any mention of her opening her 
 heart to a friend about herself or her feelings, 
 and amid a busy life surrounded by others she 
 seems to have lived a somewhat lonely ex- 
 istence, although she had strong and sympathetic 
 affections, giving her love freely to those 
 around her, and being loved devotedly in 
 return. The deepest part of her nature she 
 seldom revealed, nor had she given it expres- 
 sion could she have found much response or 
 comprehension. It was this craving the world 
 of sense and even the world of thought could 
 not meet or satisfy, that in her girlhood 
 caused her to take the otherwise inexplicable 
 course of turning from a rich full life to one 
 that seemed so unnatural to her. Dimly as 
 
64 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 she then knew God she felt that to know 
 Him as she conceived it possible, would be to 
 be satisfied ; and all through her life, through 
 doubts, and mistakes and suffering, we see 
 how that satisfaction grew, till she had not 
 only Peace herself but was able to impart it 
 to other longing souls. 
 
 In giving out, her own spiritual life ad- 
 vanced rapidly, and those who knew her came to 
 look upon her almost as an oracle. Early in 1813 
 Friends gave her a minute to visit the month- 
 ly meetings. Her loving nature could not but 
 enjoy being appreciated in what had been so 
 great an effort to her, and she was wise 
 enough to see that there was great danger in 
 this of her becoming self-conceited. 
 
 Many who have started as earnestly and 
 honestly as she have been led by praise and 
 applause to speak for effect when it is all up 
 with any good they may do. At all ' times 
 public speaking is difficult as a way of really 
 helping others, and the change to this specious 
 form of hypocrisy is felt at once, 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. C5 
 
 It was at this critical time that Elizabeth 
 was asked by some friends, who had visited one 
 or two condemned criminals in Newgate, to go 
 and see the destitute state of the women there 
 in the bitter weather then prevailing. 
 
 Brought face to face with such awful reality, 
 before which they were powerless, any earnest 
 man or woman who honestly sought God, not 
 only for self but for mankind, to learn if there 
 were healing for the unconsoled world, must 
 have been shaken thoroughly out of any idle 
 dreams of self-conceit. Elizabeth Fry was in 
 earnest, and seeing in the foul prison-house 
 those of her own sex, some of whose souls 
 had once been white as hers, unhelped and 
 perishing, she turned from self to God, and was 
 thus saved from the pit-fall where SO much 
 love and strength that might have been used 
 for others is buried. 
 
 At the time Elizabeth Fry did not dream 
 
 that she was the appointed saviour. She 
 
 did what she was able in giving clothes 
 
 and gentle words, but then could do no 
 
 F 
 
66 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 more, and soon after returned to Plashet. 
 
 Not however the same, the vision of hope- 
 less wretchedness was ever before her, awakening 
 not sentimental emotion but a wish t to alleviate 
 the sufferings of those living palpitating lives 
 whom none pitied. 
 
 The ensuing months at Plashet were quiet 
 and happy. Mrs. Fry rejoiced to be once more 
 at home and was welcomed on all sides. 
 
 Two little extracts from her diary are so 
 beautiful, and shew so much of her character 
 that they are copied here. 
 
 " I awoke under the feeling, as I often do, 
 like one athirst, and it came across me like a 
 gleam, that what I could not do the Redeemer 
 would do for me, even grant the willing mind 
 to submit in all things ; this gave me hope. 
 Words of doctrine I do not pretend to under- 
 stand or enter into, one thing I know that 
 Christ in me, or that ever-blessed Power I have 
 
 felt is my only hope of glory, my only hope 
 
 of salvation. Through a great and wonderful 
 mystery I do here heartily and fully acknowledge 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 67 
 
 that as tar as I know a coming unto God it 
 is through ami by Christ, and I doubt not 
 there are numbers who never knew, and never 
 consequently acknowledge by whom they came 
 unto God, who may experience a being recon- 
 ciled without knowing by whom they are recon- 
 ciled.'' The humble and broad-minded spirit of 
 these lines is very characteristic of all we know 
 of this woman after God's own heart for whom 
 He had prepared so great a work. 
 
 The other extract shows that her res 
 was not pride or selfishness : — " My original 
 intention in writing this journal has been 
 simply and purely the good of my own soul, 
 but if after my death those who survive should 
 believe that any part of it would conduce to 
 
 strengthen and encourage others I am 
 
 willing it should be exposed, even if my weak- 
 are acknowledged, so long as they lead 
 to the love of Him who has in tender mercy 
 manifested Himself to be Strength in my Weak- 
 
 , and a Present Help in every time of 
 
 1." 
 
68 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 1 8 14 was a trying year in many respects to 
 Mrs. Fry. A new baby was added to the 
 family, and in the midst of depression, caused 
 by a lengthened period of physical weakness, 
 her brother John died. She was glad for him, 
 his life had been very sad, and he had never 
 recovered from the shock of his young wife's 
 death six years before, but she could not help 
 feeling his loss keenly, and death to her 
 woman's nature seemed very terrible. Several 
 other much loved friends also died in rapid 
 succession. 
 
 Yet they were comparatively outside trials. 
 In 1 8 15 a sorrow came which struck home to 
 her very heart. 
 
 After a week's sudden illness her little 
 daughter Elizabeth died. This nestling had not 
 stayed quite five years, but she had crept very 
 close to the mother's heart, and it was with 
 bitter pain she saw her plume her tiny wings 
 and fly away. 
 
 She realized how weary a world the little 
 thing had left, and rejoiced that her passionate 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 69 
 
 pleading that the child should be spared great 
 or prolonged suffering, had been answered, yet 
 she and her husband mourned her loss deeply, 
 and the selfish human love would awake and 
 cry sometimes. Though another little one was 
 given the following April, the empty place was 
 never filled to Mrs. Fry. 
 
 In the end of 1816, after a visit to Pake- 
 field, she left her four elder children — two 
 girls and two boys — in Norfolk. This was a 
 trial to her, but she felt it was best for them. 
 
 Her letters to her elder children at this 
 time are filled with tender counsel and replete 
 with that intensity given by love somewhat 
 repressed in its expression ; as among all the 
 Puritans, much show of affection being con- 
 sidered by Friends extravagant ; but this very 
 moderation was productive of that exquisite 
 unspoken tenderness so frequently met with 
 among the Scotch, and of a healthy and com 
 trolled tone of mind, in which love never 
 
 1 aerated into sentimental emotion so fata] to 
 endurance and constancy. 
 
70 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 At the same time she was writing them 
 undemonstrative letters Mrs. Fry notes in her 
 diary "What I feel for the children I cannot 
 describe." 
 
 At the end of 1816 the Frys again went 
 up to town for the winter. 
 
 The waiting time was over. Unmurmuringly 
 had ordinary life, with its pettinesses been 
 taken up, and the high gifts turned to common 
 uses, but the reaping of the rich harvest from 
 the apparently dead seed was at hand. All 
 Elizabeth Fry's brain, and heart and experience, 
 and patience, with utter self-abnegation, were 
 needed in the battle with evil and indifference 
 which, to the very end of her life, she had 
 henceforth to fight in the sight of all the 
 world. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 DAYBREAK IN PRISON. 
 
 The Man of Sorrows ;— and the Cross of Christ 
 Is more to us than all His miracles. 
 
 H. E. Hamilton King. 
 
 Tl^HE lulls rang out in commemoration of 
 the birth of the pitiful Christ, and chil- 
 dren's voices sang joyfully of peace on earth. 
 Peace ! In Europe indeed war had ended for the 
 present, Napoleon had fallen, and in England 
 the terror of invasion was over, but in the 
 hearts of men there was little peace. By many a 
 hearth they mourned their dead, and in many a 
 wrecked homestead hatred and cruelty bred pro- 
 lific from wrong and oppression. In the prison 
 the merciless hand of those who bore Christ's 
 name crushed the fallen into deeper depths, and 
 drove many a broken heart to despair. Pe;i 
 unheeded in the condemned cells, those who 
 had touched, not the life but the pocket of 
 their fellow men, watched with shuddering, life 
 
72 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 still strong within them, the hour of their doom 
 draw nigh, while little children nourished on evil 
 went forth to a living death of sin and pain. 
 
 There were a few left who had pity on the 
 children at least. Several members of the 
 Society of Friends, including two brothers-in-law 
 of Mrs. Fry, Mr. Hoare and Sir Fowel Buxton, 
 had started a scheme for the reformation of 
 child thieves. 
 
 But within the prison walls there was little 
 change. In Newgate the separation between 
 the men and women was rather more complete, 
 and a double iron grating prevented too close 
 intercourse with the swarms of visitors of the 
 honest ranks who were allowed entrance. 
 
 At this Christmas time Elizabeth Fry once 
 more entered the gates, determined to see if 
 something could not be done, at any rate for 
 the children. 
 
 Gaining admittance to the female ward she 
 looked on what seemed more like a den of 
 wild beasts than of women. The din, which 
 had hushed for a moment when she entered, 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 73 
 
 rose clamorous around her, while the crowding 
 and dirt made the air almost insupportable, yet 
 in the midst of all she could see gleams of 
 hope for them, in the tears that dropped over 
 the dirty little baby clasped close to some 
 fallen one's breast, or in the motherhood 
 which caused one and another as she spoke to 
 them to bewail these surroundings for their 
 children, and in her heart a purpose grew and 
 strengthened. If God would help her she 
 would bring light to this dark place, woman as 
 she was. Could she bear this t close contact 
 with misery so loathsome, with womanhood so 
 degraded, with scenes so appalling ? 
 
 Self with her had been second through 
 long years in the little things of life, and now 
 it was answer enough that these were her 
 sisters and there was none other to save. 
 
 Soon she came again. " Leave me alone 
 with them " she pleaded of the astonished 
 turnkey who conducted her. Did .Mrs. Fry 
 know what she asked ? Even he seldom went 
 in alone. She gained her point, the door shut 
 
74 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 to with a bang, and the key grated in the 
 lock. 
 
 She afterwards confessed : "I felt a little 
 alarmed at the thought that I was shut up with 
 these poor creatures ; " but none could have 
 guessed it, looking at her calm face and dis- 
 guised mien as she stood just within the door 
 and faced the women. Dumb with surprise 
 they gazed on their unwonted visitor, and waited 
 in silence for her to speak. 
 
 Then they heard a story, old yet new for 
 ever, how after years of wasted life when for 
 many of them to live could be but a reaping 
 of the corruption they had sown, God still 
 waited to give them forgiveness even now at 
 this late hour, and one who came to save 
 sinners called even them, weary and laden with 
 sin, to come to Him and rest. 
 
 " Who is this Jesus ? " they asked, and 
 weeping, " can we come, or is it too late." 
 Gently she told them of a mercy that never 
 says " too late " to a cry for pardon. 
 
 They barely understood, but that sweet 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 75 
 
 presence calmed them, and they felt somehow 
 as if she cared. 
 
 Hardly could they believe it when Elizabeth 
 Fry, in the same quiet voice, went on to pro- 
 pose a school for their children if they would 
 co-operate with her. Did, then, this beautiful 
 stately lady care what became of their children 
 whom the world wanted not ? And ask their 
 help ? Here was something very tangible, 
 they could surely respond ! With the tears 
 rolling down their cheeks these women that an 
 hour or so before had been fighting, drinking 
 and gambling, looked into her face and promised 
 to do what they could to help her save the 
 children. 
 
 ' Next time she came a young woman named 
 Mary Conner, of more respectable appearance 
 than most and pretty well educated, was pointed 
 out as willing to act as schoolmistress. 
 
 Where to teach the children was the next 
 question ; in the noisome and overcrowded 
 common-room it was vain to attempt it. 
 
 Elizabeth Fry appealed to the governor, and 
 
76 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 other officials of the prison. With wondering 
 courtesy they placed a cell at her disposal in 
 which to make what they considered a perfectly 
 futile experiment. 
 
 Taking "with her a young Friend, Mary 
 Sanderson, Elizabeth Fry went to start the 
 school in this novel schoolroom. 
 
 Knowing Mrs. Fry's natural timidity Mary 
 Sanderson had not been prepared for the scene 
 she was to witness, and was terrified as the 
 door closed upon them. It was enough to 
 make the boldest quail. Women half naked, 
 and some partially drunk, struggled with one 
 another for front place at the railing, shouting 
 and begging eagerly the while. She clung to 
 Elizabeth Fry, whose calm and unaffrighted de- 
 meanour reassured her, but as she afterwards 
 described it, she never forgot the horror of 
 going into what appeared to be a den of wild 
 beasts, nor the shudder with which she heard 
 the key turn in the lock. 
 
 That day they gathered as many as possible 
 of the children, and prisoners under twenty-five, 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 77 
 
 into the cell allotted them, and installed Mary 
 Conner as schoolmistress. 
 
 Many of the older women entreated to be 
 allowed in, but these they had reluctantly to 
 refuse, there being no more room. 
 
 Weeks passed, and almost daily Mrs Fry 
 went to the prison school, gradually inducing 
 some other friends to accompany her. 
 
 She would however take none of her younger 
 acquaintances, not considering it well that they 
 should witness scenes, which, as she afterwards 
 said, were too bad to be described. 
 
 Mrs. Fry also visited several women con- 
 demned to death, some for murder. This was 
 a terrible strain on her nerves, and after calming 
 and helping the poor distracted creatures, she 
 would return home utterly spent and dreadful ly 
 distressed. 
 
 She had now to face the consequences of 
 what she was doing. She purposed firmly to 
 attempt the reformation of the women them- 
 selves, though almost all but herself deemed the 
 plan of introducing order and employment into 
 
78 FXIZABETH FRY. 
 
 Newgate as wild and visionary. With her clear 
 judgment she saw that this would carry her far 
 beyond the bounds of ordinary conventionality. 
 
 The school was becoming known, and her 
 action in going to the officials severely criticised. 
 It was at that time a far more extraordinary 
 thing for a lady to do than it would be now, 
 and Elizabeth Fry shrank from appearing extra- 
 ordinary. For years, however, she had trained 
 herself to act, not as she liked, but as she 
 thought right, and when confronted practically 
 with the question whether her own reputation or 
 the salvation of these poor creatures should 
 come first, she put aside her own claims without 
 hesitation, though not without pain. She natural- 
 ly liked to be thought well of, and the 
 condemnation of those she loved stung her 
 to the quick. 
 
 But a brave and knightly heart beat beneath 
 her woman's kerchief, and having undertaken the 
 deliverance of the helpless, her chivalry would 
 not let her shrink or turn back because of 
 possible pain to herself. 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 79 
 
 She had to rely entirely on her own calm 
 judgment and strength of purpose. All the 
 officials, and most of her friends, told her that 
 to introduce materials for work among the 
 prisoners would be only putting temptation in 
 their way, without achieving any good — that 
 though the women appeared so earnest now in 
 their entreaties for instruction, they were in- 
 capable of any sort of lasting reformation, several 
 members of the corporation and others having 
 made vain attempts at improving their condition. 
 /^Nothing daunted, however, Mrs. Fry held to 
 her firm belief that prison life might be totally 
 changed, and a new state of things introduced 
 in which reformation should not only become 
 possible but probable. 
 
 Her idea was that the prisoners should be 
 classified, as far as possible, instructed and kept 
 fully employed, that little or no communication 
 should be allowed with their friends, and that 
 suitable and sufficient food and clothing should 
 be supplied by the prison authorities. 
 
 Few of these reforms could be immediately 
 
80 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 commenced. Mrs. Fry's hands were soon so 
 full with the school alone that sh3 could hardly 
 keep pace with her work. She dreaded, too, 
 that in going beyond the prescribed linits of a 
 woman's sphere of action shj should neglect 
 her old duties to home, husband and children. 
 Still amid all the bustle she felt a real calm 
 and peace. It was such joy to see those women, 
 whom all but she had deemed irreclaimable, 
 crowd up to her as she entered, to beg, not 
 for money or for spirits, but for teaching. No 
 one can tell what she was to them, sunshine, 
 life, hope, — or what a change her beautiful 
 presence was from that of the heartless gaolers. 
 
 In April 1817, Elizabeth Fry, with several 
 other ladies definitely formed themselves into a 
 band which they called ' An Association for 
 the Improvement of the Female Prisoners of 
 Newgate.' / 
 
 In these days of associations for any and 
 every purpose this dobs not S3em much, in the 
 face, however, of this crying need, these women 
 knew that they must band together, shoulder to 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 8 1 
 
 shoulder, and hand in hand to do real battle, 
 and many a hard won victory had that little 
 association to shew in after years. They took 
 up their position where others had failed, with 
 courageous hearts, for they believed that the 
 battle was not theirs but the Lord's, who had 
 heard the crying of the prisoners though they 
 had not cried to Him. 
 
 As soon as it was formed the association 
 laid its plans before the sheriffs and city 
 magistrates. These were kind enough, but in- 
 clined to view the whole thing as a visionary 
 and soft-hearted feminine scheme which would 
 soon die a natural death. Though not sanguine 
 that the prisoners would submit to any kind of 
 discipline they consented to meet the ladies one 
 Sunday at Newgate. 
 
 The April sunlight streamed through the 
 barred window that Sabbath afternoon on a 
 Strangely unwonted scene within those dreary 
 walls. On the one hand stood a little group 
 of ladies, conspicuous among them their moving 
 spirit— Elizabeth Fry. On the other a group of 
 
 G 
 
82 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 city men, their practical faces wearing an ex- 
 pression of interest and curiosity, before them 
 were gathered the women prisoners, dissolute 
 and sunken, yet with a gleam very like human 
 love in their eyes as they turned them on the 
 tall figure that stepped forward to address them. 
 
 A pin fall could have been heard as in 
 her musical voice, peculiarly rich in its intona- 
 tions, Elizabeth Fry told them of the great 
 desire she and her friends had to help them, 
 and asked if they were willing to do work if 
 provided, and to accept and abide by rules. 
 They would attempt nothing, she said, without 
 this consent, but if they really wished, would 
 enable them to rise from their present degraded 
 position to something better and higher. With 
 one accord the women declared eagerly that 
 they would do anything she wished. 
 
 She then read out several rules establishing 
 a system of monitors over classes of 12, under 
 the superintendance of a matron ; and several 
 more with regard to personal cleanliness and 
 decency. 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 83 
 
 As each rule was read out Mrs. Fry asked 
 those who assented to raise their right hands. 
 Every rule was thus carried unanimously by the 
 prisoners, and in the same way monitors from 
 amongst themselves were chosen and accepted. 
 
 When Mrs. Fry ceased, one of the sheriffs 
 s; oke for the rest, saying that the scheme had 
 their full approbation, and they hoped it would 
 succeed, — then turning to Mrs. Fry, and waiving 
 towards the prisoners " You see your materials." 
 
 She did see and understand them as he did 
 not : to him they were only degraded criminals, 
 to her they were fallen sisters to be patiently 
 won back to right and happiness. From among 
 these crude materials many a patient and 
 purified life came forth bearing, it might 
 be, the consequences of sin for the rest of 
 time, yet no longer in utter despair, but 
 with humble and trustful hope. If she did 
 not give them up surely He who knew 
 their weakness and their temptations still 
 better, would not, and dimly understanding 
 this they 'touched God's right hand in the 
 
84 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 darkness, and were lifted up and strengthened.' 
 
 An old laundry was given to the association 
 to use as a work room. A bright idea occurred 
 to one of the members that all the clothing sent 
 out to the convict settlements abroad should be 
 made by the female prisoners in Newgate, 
 instead of being done by city workers. The 
 firm which had hitherto undertaken the supply 
 rendered it easy by their ready acquiescence of 
 the plain. 
 
 For a month the experiment was tried 
 secretly, and at the end of even that short 
 time such a change had been wrought that it 
 was decided to ask the Corporation of London 
 to make it a part of their prison system. 
 
 The Lord Mayor and several members of 
 the Corporation came to see the state of affairs 
 for themselves. 
 
 Iheir astonishment at the alterations was un- 
 bounded. Quietly and decently the women appeared 
 before them and showed their work, on many 
 of their faces the hang dog look having changed 
 to one of human interest and intelligence. 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 85 
 
 As they looked they marvelled if this trans- 
 formation could really be the outcome of one 
 true and courageous woman's pitiful thought, 
 but their wonderment ceased when they saw 
 Elizabeth Fry and perceived the influence she 
 exercised over the prisoners, entirely gentle, vet 
 commanding respect instinctively, being possessed 
 of a mind at once vigourous and original, so 
 that she could lead the tender impulses and 
 sympathies of less rare women into practical 
 channels. Many a timid lady who might have 
 spent all her life weeping over these lost ones 
 without doing them a particle of good, under 
 her strong yet half unconscious guidance and 
 support, was helping forward their reformation 
 materially. 
 
 The plan was immediately adopted by the 
 authorities as part of the prison regulations, 
 the association was empowered to punish those 
 who infringed their rules with short periods of 
 solitary confinement, and were allowed a grant 
 towards the expense of a matron. 
 
 I'm the Committee of Aldermen appointed 
 
86 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 to look into gaol management, Mrs. Fry re- 
 presented the over-crowded state of the prison, 
 and the absence of women to attend to the 
 female prisoners. The pernicious result of 
 allowing indiscriminate admittance of outsiders, 
 and the abuses arising from the dependence of 
 the prisoners on these for food and clothing. 
 She also urged L that all should be given work 
 as part of their punishment. 
 
 For the present the Corporation would not 
 undertake to bear the expense of these altera- 
 tions, but consented to make them if the 
 money were supplied. A fund for this purpose 
 was forthwith opened, and many, particularly 
 Mrs. Fry's own brothers, nobly responded to 
 the appeal of the association. 
 
 The change taking place in Newgate was 
 brought forward in the papers in the autumn 
 of this year. The management of prisons was 
 becoming a question of pressing social impor- 
 tance, and the whole country was roused by the 
 report. To her dismay Elizabeth Fry found 
 herself famous. 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 87 
 
 With this publicity her quiet home life 
 ceased. Letters poured in from all parts of 
 the country with requests for advice, or enquiries 
 about the work at Newgate. The placid years 
 of order and exactitude in irksome household 
 details now bore their fruit in enabling her to 
 grapple with business from which an inexperi- 
 enced woman would have shrunk dismayed. 
 All the powers of her mind were brought into 
 requisition, and all her culture and education 
 needed. 
 
 Beside this she had frequently to be the 
 guide to the many in high positions who 
 wished to see her system at work in Newgate. 
 
 With all her practical mastery of business 
 detail her heart never hardened towards the 
 prisoners as mere " cases." Amidst work daily 
 growing more arduous sh s continued her per- 
 sonal and loving influence with them. The 
 manner in which gaming was banished the 
 Common Room is illustrative. 
 
 The matron reported one day to Elizabeth 
 Fry that some of tin- women bad been found 
 
 v 4)? Of THE 
 
 uhivbrsitt; 
 
88 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 gambling with cards. She called them all 
 before her and told them gently that she much 
 objected to gambling, believing it did them real 
 harm, she asked them, therefore, as a personal 
 favour, that those who possessed cards should 
 bring them to her. As this would betray them 
 she had hardly any expectation that they would 
 do so, although she hoped card playing would 
 cease. As she sat with the matron afterwards 
 a tap came at the door and one of the prisoners 
 entered, who with tears in her eyes placed a 
 packet of cards in Mrs. Fry's hand. Another 
 and another followed till five packs had 
 been delivered up without compulsion, other than 
 that of love, by these women who had scarcely 
 been considered human a few months before. 
 Mrs. Fry believed in rewards' as a stimulus 
 to these poor creatures, she knew that it was 
 not every one even amongst the uncorrupt who 
 can feel a good action enough reward in itself, 
 although these often expect children and others 
 under their control to feel this truly Ciceronic 
 sentiment. 
 
ELIZABETH IKY. 89 
 
 Accordingly, for these five packs of cards 
 she brought some litttle gifts of clothing, when 
 to her astonishment one of the worst characters, 
 who had behaved so disgracefully during her 
 trial that she had been considered irremediable, 
 pleaded for a Bible instead, which request was 
 of course willingly granted. 
 
 The way in which the Bible was received 
 in the prison was wonderful. 
 
 Had a minister of any description entered 
 there and attempted to preach he would 
 probably have been- received with derisive jeers 
 and blasphemings. 
 
 Although she knew this Mrs. Fry determined 
 to try the experiment of simply reading the 
 Bible, without further comment than was needed 
 to make it plain to their ignorant minds. 
 
 As she told the Committee of the House 
 of Commons, later, " she never tried to uphold 
 any particular doctrine, but read simply." 
 
 To Iut amazement the prisoners listened 
 with devouring attention. A gentleman who 
 attended one of these readings said thai "where 
 
90 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 he had expected mocking smiles he beheld 
 earnest and tear-stained faces." When Mrs. Fry 
 announced her intention of reading to them 
 they would flock up the stairs after her with 
 the greatest eagerness. 
 
 Early in 1 8 1 8 Mrs. Fry was called up for exam- 
 ination before a Committee of the House of 
 Commons. In giving evidence she did not 
 hesitate to denounce the disgraceful state of 
 affairs she had found in Newgate, nor to suggest 
 necessary alterations and improvements. This evi- 
 dence, too long and tedious to give here, may be 
 found in full in the large memoirs of Elizabeth 
 Fry, and the small one published in the Eminent 
 Women Series. 
 
 She again urged the regular employment of 
 the female prisoners and their committal entirely 
 into the hands of women officers, venturing to 
 state that in a building which the ladies of the 
 association might visit as inspectors, where no 
 communication was allowed with the outside 
 populace, room given to classify them and em- 
 ployment provided, a thousand of the most 
 
ELIZABETH EKY. 9 1 
 
 unruly women could be reduced to order in a 
 week. 
 
 The Committee was much pleased with her 
 report, but it is not surprising that they ascribed 
 more of the good effected to her personal 
 influence than to the perfection of the system 
 on which she worked. 
 
 Not long after this encouragement Elizabeth 
 Fry came into serious collision with the Gov- 
 ernment. Since she had begun her visits to 
 Newgate she had made it a general rule not to 
 interfere with the working of the law of 
 Capital Punishment, cruel and unjust though it 
 was. This was indeed her only wise course ; 
 had she made sentimental appeals on behalf 
 of every woman who was put to death, and 
 pestered the Government with frantic pleadings 
 for reprjeves, as many a soft-hearted woman 
 with less wisdom might have done, the Authori- 
 ties would probably have closed the doors of 
 Newgate to her and the association. As it 
 was, although feeling strongly on the subject 
 and expressing her opinion fearlessly, she had 
 
92 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 until this time preserved a neutral position 
 towards the Authorities in every case. 
 
 The laws were verily pitiless. If merciful 
 juries had not readily caught at some very ex- 
 tenuating circumstances, and had there not 
 been technical means of evading the law, it is 
 computed that four executions per diem would 
 have taken place in the United Kingdom. 
 Almost every variety of robbery, fraud or 
 forgery was punishable by death, while the last 
 was a crime made peculiarly easy to commit 
 by the circulation of small bank notes. The 
 Bank Solicitors, however, had the privilege of 
 arranging with those forgers, whom they wished 
 not to die, that they should plead guilty, as it 
 was called, to the minor count, by which they 
 were saved from the death penalty. It was a 
 forgery case which so moved Mrs. Fry that 
 she was induced to depart from her usual 
 course. 
 
 A young woman, Harriet Skelton, was con- 
 demned to death for passing forged bank notes. 
 She was no common criminal, and had done 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 93 
 
 this for her lover to whom she was de- 
 voted, and there were other circumstances of 
 extenuation, though none to touch the law. 
 She had been given the offer of pleading guilty 
 to the minor count, but relying on the evidence 
 against her breaking down, she had declined it. 
 Her demeanour was so different from that of 
 the usual class of prisoners that no one had 
 anticipated the decision of the court would have 
 been her condemnation, which fell like a thun- 
 derbolt on all. The many outsiders who came 
 to see Harriet Skelton entreated Elizabeth Fry 
 to intercede for her, and she was prevailed 
 upon to make the attempt. She went to the 
 Duke of Gloucester, among others, who having 
 been to see Skelton himself, was so stirred 
 that he appealed to Lord Sidmouth, the Home 
 Secretary, and accompanied Mrs. Fry to the 
 bank directors. All, however, was unavailing, 
 the poor girl was executed. Indirectly through 
 this case Mrs. Fry brought about much public 
 excitement on the subject of capital punishment, 
 a question over which the Government was 
 
94 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 getting into much difficulty. Lord Sidmouth was 
 greatly annoyed by her action, and even accused 
 her of exaggeration and prevarication in her 
 statements. Mrs. Fry's answer was gently but 
 firmly to decline to hold further intercourse with 
 Lord Sidmouth till he had withdrawn his insinu- 
 ations. This he refused to do, and though Mrs. 
 Fry, accompanied by Lady Harcourt, sought a 
 reconciliation by a personal interview, the attempt 
 proved futile, and for one error of judgment 
 she had to pay the penalty of a complete breach 
 with the Home Secretary. 
 
 This affair grieved her bitterly, not so 
 much on account of herself as for fear that 
 her words which had been so misconstrued, 
 should have done harm. 
 
 It was curious that the very same day on 
 which she paid this ill-starred visit her heart 
 was cheered by a very different scene. Queen 
 Charlotte had sent for Mrs. Fry to meet her 
 at the Mansion House that afternoon. Instead 
 of being taken to the drawing-room where 
 they were to have met the Queen, she and 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 95 
 
 Lady* Harcourt were shewn on to the platform 
 in the Egyptian Hall, in which hundreds of 
 children were assembled to be examined before 
 a crowd of onlookers. 
 
 On the platform were representatives of 
 some of the noblest homes in England, and 
 the highest ecclesiastical dignities. Standing 
 amongst these the Queen, soon after her 
 entrance, descried Mrs. Fry's tall figure; her 
 business with the children ended, she step- 
 ped up to her. The eyes of the crowd 
 followed Queen Charlotte, and when they saw 
 to whom she was speaking a murmur of ap- 
 plause ran through the great assembly, ending, 
 despite the presence of Royalty, in a uni- 
 versal clap and cheer which was taken up 
 by those outside. It was truly a sight worth 
 the seeing, Elizabeth Fry in her simple dress 
 standing among the bishops, her sweet and 
 dignified face flushed with the unwonted ex- 
 citement, while the Queen of the greatest 
 kingdom in the world publicly showed her 
 respect and attention. ^Not one heart in all 
 
96 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 that crowd grudged her the honour — was she 
 not the champion for the right of every fallen 
 human being to a fair chance of recovery, and 
 the defender of helpless little ones from a 
 fate worse than death ? 
 
 Mrs Fry had taken the breach with Lord 
 Sidmouth too much to heart to feel any great 
 pleasure on this occasion. She wrote to Lady 
 Harcourt that she had pleaded this man's 
 cause both in public and private with those 
 who set him down as merciless and cruel. 
 She could not rest, she says, if she had 
 pained her menial servant, and feeling that she 
 had lost a friend in Lord Sidmouth she 
 grieved day and night over the misunderstanding. 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 DAYBREAK ON BOAKI). 
 
 I know not where His islands lift 
 
 Their fronded palms in air; 
 I only know I cannot drift 
 
 Beyond His love and care. 
 
 AVhittier. 
 
 A LTHOUGH the women's side of Newgate 
 had undergone transformation, the asso- 
 ciation soon found that they had only touched 
 the outer rim of a system that required 
 thorough reformation, if lasting good was to 
 be effected. To give more than temporary 
 relief they would have to grapple not only 
 with the difficulties of Newgate, but with the 
 general principles of the Prison and Transpor- 
 tation system. 
 
 As Mrs. Fry subsequently learned in cor- 
 respondence with Mr. Marsden, Chaplain at 
 the penal settlement of Parmetta, New South 
 Wales, nothing could be more disastrous than 
 
98 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 the manner in which transportation was then 
 carried out. 
 
 No barracks of any kind were provided 
 for the female convicts, they were turned on 
 to the Colony to shift for themselves as best 
 they could. 
 
 Many of the women living the worst of 
 lives out there would have been glad to have 
 kept straight, but with many of them it had 
 been the hard choice between starvation and 
 vice. 
 
 The very food doled out to them weekly 
 had often to be given in payment for a roof 
 over their heads. This state of things existed, 
 it must be remembered, in a place where men 
 with good characters were the exception, almost 
 every convict sent out being contaminated by 
 intercourse with the most abandoned men. 
 
 The attention of the association was par- 
 ticularly drawn to this subject of transportation 
 early in 1 8 1 8, when the time came for the 
 women they had instructed to be sent out. 
 
 The ladies were told that the day on which 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 99 
 
 the women for transportation were removed from 
 Newgate was usually one of unbridled riot. 
 
 ire leaving, the women would destroy all 
 they could, and as they were conveyed in open 
 waggons to the waterside, disgraceful scenes 
 took place in the streets. 
 
 Mrs. Fry, however, determined that this time 
 there should be a difference. At her request 
 the governor gave leave for the prisoners to be 
 removed in closed conveyances, and she promised 
 them that if they would behave decently she 
 and the other ladies of the association would 
 
 with them to Deptford, where the convict 
 ship ' Maria ' awaited them. The result was an 
 entire change ; quietly, in order, the women 
 filed into hackney carriages, and were conveyed 
 without publicity to Deptford. 
 
 On board Mrs. Fry found the arrangements 
 worse than she had anticipated. Below deck 
 
 ien and children were herded like cattle, 
 
 some being heavily and cruelly ironed, and there 
 they were tO remain during all the weeks of 
 
 the voyage, without employment 01 superinten- 
 
100 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 dence. On their arrival at the penal settlement 
 they would be turned out penniless and homeless 
 in a foreign land. 
 
 Mrs. Fry saw that all the good done to 
 these women would be worse than undone by 
 the long idle voyage and the hopeless landing. 
 
 Hastily glancing over the arrangements made, 
 Mrs. Fry found that the prisoners were to be 
 divided into messes of six. This gave a basis 
 for classification, and she suggested an arrange- 
 ment into classes of twelve, with a monitor 
 over each class. 
 
 The proposal was at once accepted, and 
 the women were immediately grouped in this 
 manner, and as far as possible those of like 
 ages and crimes were placed together. 
 
 It seemed hopeless to find work for them 
 or to get it done without supervision. The 
 association, however, heard that patchwork and 
 knitting found a ready sale in the colony. The 
 Manchester manufacturers were appealed to, and 
 in the course of a few days enough pieces of 
 coloured print had been supplied to give all 
 
ELIZABETH 1UY. 101 
 
 the women ample employment. This work was 
 to be sold by the women for their own benefit, 
 so that those who were industrious could gain 
 enough to keep them from starvation on their 
 arrival, until they could obtain respectable 
 employment. 
 
 Nor were the children neglected. A space 
 was found where they could be taught, and a 
 schoolmistress from among the convicts appointed 
 to teach them reading, knitting, and sewing, 
 who was to have a reward if she fulfilled her 
 duties. 
 
 The result of this first experiment was 
 never definitely known, as the captain died on 
 the way out, and the only other responsible 
 man, the surgeon general, did not care how the 
 prisoners behaved ; but afterwards the Newgate 
 women became noted for their order and industry 
 on the convict ships. 
 
 On the day the 'Maria' took her departure 
 there was an unusual scene on her decks. In 
 the Burrounding ships the crews who had watched 
 with some curiosity the daily visits of the ladies 
 
] 02 ELIZABETH ERY. 
 
 to the ' Maria,' seeing- the women brought on 
 deck, crowded to the sides of their vessels to see 
 what was going on. 
 
 By the cabin door, on the ' Maria,' stood 
 a group of ladies, the taller of whom, dressed 
 as a Quakeress, stepped forward, and amid 
 dead silence read a few words from the Bible 
 in a clear and audible voice. After a moment's 
 pause she knelt on the deck and prayed for 
 those for whom she could do no more, that 
 God might help and guard them, and keep 
 alive in their hearts the good sown. When she 
 rose there was no sound but the low passionate 
 weeping of some of the women and wail of 
 their babies, and the very sailors standing by 
 seemed touched. 
 
 As Mrs. Fry left the ship the women pressed 
 to the side of the vessel for one last look at 
 the sister-woman who had loved even them, and 
 followed her with blessings till she was out of 
 sight and hearing. 
 
 In bidding farewell to these whom she had 
 tried to lift from their hopelessness, whom 
 
ELIZABETH FBT. 103 
 
 she was now obliged to leave again to the mer- 
 cies of the cruel world, Elizabeth Fry felt, as 
 most of those who would save others feel, 
 utterly helpless. 
 
 We stretch our hands for a moment to 
 those struggling in the dark sea, and then have 
 to leave them on the slippery rocks with the 
 cry in our hearts: 
 
 " Is this like love to .stand 
 With no help in my hand, 
 When strong as death I fain would watch above thee ':" 
 
 And we arc only saved from utter discourage- 
 ment and despair for others when our prayer 
 11 May God love them " is changed into the 
 conviction " God does love them," and we 
 realize that that Love is more enduring, and 
 that Hand more strong than we can conceive. 
 
 Thus to God Elizabeth Fry left those she 
 could no longer succour, and, as she will know 
 some day, not in vain. 
 
 From the time of her first visit, until her 
 
 death. Mrs. Fry saw every convict ship off that 
 
 left England, except one. 
 

 104 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 Through rain and wind and cold she would 
 go, often accompanied by her friend and help- 
 er, Elizabeth Pryor. She never let personal 
 interest interfere with this last kindness she 
 could show to these forlorn women. 
 
 Some years later, on the day she had to 
 go, one of her little ones was seriously ill. 
 " How can I leave my baby ?" rose the cry 
 strong in the mother's heart ; but resolutely she 
 turned from the little cot, knowing that while 
 other skillful hands would minister to the child 
 she left, there was none but she to soften the 
 bitterness of exile to the poor convicts. 
 
 Another time she and Mrs. Pryor were in 
 danger of drowning. The open boat in which 
 they were returning up the Thames was caught 
 in a sudden squall, and the rowers could make 
 no headway against wind and tide. In vain 
 they hailed several steamers, and were at last 
 picked up through the chivalry of a Captain to 
 whom they had not signalled, who noticed their 
 plight. The Captain, who had stopped his 
 vessel in an exciting race, to help them, felt 
 
ELIZABETH FltY. 105 
 
 more than rewarded by his subsequent friendship 
 with Mrs. Fry. 
 
 This rough and ready though honest 
 gentleman, who had, as he afterwards confessed, 
 " some little dislike to sects " was charmed out 
 of all prejudice by Elizabeth Fry's winning 
 ways, and from him we hear the impression 
 she made on strangers. Who could resist this 
 beautiful, persuasive, and heavenly-minded woman? 
 He wrote: "To see her was to love her." 
 As he watched her that day moving quietly 
 about the deck speaking a word here and 
 there to his men, or giving them a leaflet, he 
 felt sure to his surprise that here was not 
 cant but reality. 
 
 It was on a convict ship, that, in 1826, 
 Elizabeth Fry met William Wilberforce. No one 
 could see and hear these two Deliverers, satisfied 
 
 as were both with no empty words of well- 
 expressed sympathy with their suffering brothers 
 and sisters, but who had braved toil and pain, 
 and misunderstanding lor the sake of those the 
 world reckoned worthless, without feeling that 
 
106 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 God had not left Himself without a witness. 
 The daughter of an admiral who went with 
 her father on this occasion, wrote : " No lapse 
 of time could ever efface the impression of the 
 107th Psalm as read by Mrs. Fry, with such 
 extraordinary emphasis that it seemed to make 
 the simple reading a commentary, and as she 
 passed on from passage to passage it struck 
 my mind as if the whole series of illusions 
 had been written in view of such a scene as 
 was before us." 
 
 Eventually the association gained many im- 
 provements in their convict ships, among 
 which was a matron officially appointed. The 
 first was the wife of a missionary returning 
 with her husband, who undertook the post in 
 
 1834- 
 
 A building was also provided where the 
 women were properly received and looked after, 
 which not only saved the individuals, but 
 greatly improved the moral state of the colony. 
 
 To go back to Newgate. During 181 8, 
 Mrs. Fry's readings to the prisoners became 
 
ELIZABETH FBY. 107 
 
 quite a public affair, attended by Members of 
 Parliament and others in the highest positions. 
 This was a great trial to her, but after a 
 pause for their entrance, she never allowed the 
 presence of even the most distinguished visitors 
 to make the slightest difference in her address. 
 She was not speaking to the rich and the 
 great, but to the poor and miserable, to those 
 who had experienced temptations and agonies 
 those outsiders could not even understand, 
 before which the bravest heart among them 
 would have shrunk appalled, yet endured, as 
 Mrs, Fry well knew, by weak and suffering 
 women, some hardly more than children, and 
 to them her pure heart, while filled with 
 loathing to their sin, went out in sympathy 
 strong to help them to overcome. 
 
 Many of these visitors who came out of 
 curiosity went away quite broken down. One, 
 a member of the Upper House, called it the 
 deepest tragedy he had ever witnessed. 
 
 In 1822, John Randolph, American Envoy 
 to England, declared that in attending one of 
 
108 ELIZABETH FEY. 
 
 these Bible Readings he had seen the greatest 
 curiosity in England, before which Westminster 
 Abbey, the Tower, Somerset House, the British 
 Museum, and Parliament itself sank into utter 
 insignificance ; so greatly was he struck with 
 what appeared to him to be the miraculous 
 effect of Mrs. Fry's influence on the most 
 depraved women. 
 
 Few indeed of such listeners had heard 
 the Bible held out thus as healing medicine to 
 perishing souls by one who could ignore all 
 the world and not be turned from her purpose 
 to charm the great in her audience. 
 
 But while she spoke for the prisoners it 
 was not their need alone which was met, but 
 that also of many beside who heard her. 
 
 Human hearts are wondrously alike, whether 
 they beat beneath silk or fustian, and that 
 which really reaches one will often come home 
 to another in very different circumstances out- 
 wardly. 
 
 In 183 1 Mrs. Fry went to visit a young- 
 Jew who was dying, and who had sent begging 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 109 
 
 her to come to him. She found him to be 
 one whom she had long observed attending 
 their Newgate readings. She had missed him 
 lately, and supposed that like many others, the 
 excitement and novelty having passed, he had 
 tired of coming, but now discovered his absence 
 was owing to illness. He told* her his visits to 
 Newgate had been far more to him than any 
 Church, and handing her his Bible which lay 
 by his side, asked her to read again to him 
 the 107th Psalm. Soon after she heard that 
 he had died in peace. 
 
 Many and many a case such as this there 
 must have been, unknown to her, and some 
 day knowing she will rejoice that she was 
 faithful to her trust. 
 
 If Elizabeth Fry had not been true to 
 the core she must have been spoilt by all this 
 adulation and publicity ; but in her absorbing 
 devotion to the end of saving these women she 
 had literally no time to notice the attention 
 she attracted ; nor when much of the excitement 
 
 Bubsided, and visitors became less frequent, was 
 
110 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 she discouraged ; unheeding the world's praise or 
 censure she went straight on with her work. 
 The association slowly but surely changed 
 the whole aspect of affairs in Newgate. Com- 
 munication with outsiders was gradually restricted, 
 necessities were sold within the prison gates 
 while arrangements were made to give the 
 prisoners the benefit of some of their earnings 
 instead of their receiving money supplies from 
 without. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE LIGHT SPREADS. 
 
 " If sympathy were mere feeling, it would be 
 deadened by the constant contemplation of sorrow, 
 but involving as it does an exertion of the will, 
 so becoming an action, it is intensified by every 
 effort made for its cultivation.'' 
 
 E. M. Sewell. 
 
 A T the latter part of 1818 Mrs. Fry visited 
 
 Scotland and the North of England with 
 
 her brother, Joseph John Gurney, chiefly to visit 
 
 Friends as a minister, but also to look into 
 
 the state of prisons. 
 
 With a thrill of sympathy we see in her 
 private journal that Elizabeth Fry still kept the 
 woman's clinging nature. Outwardly calm, busi- 
 -like and dignified ; receiving governors, and 
 deputations of magistrates as gently as it were 
 all in the day's work of a woman's life ; and 
 at the same time writing in her diary how 
 timid she felt in public meetings, and how lonely 
 
H2 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 at being so many hundreds of miles from husband 
 and children. 
 
 They found Durham old gaol, and the 
 prisons of Haddington, Aberdeen, Glasgow and 
 Carlisle, as well as at smaller places, in the 
 worst possible condition. 
 
 In the Scotch prisons almost all the 
 prisoners were chained down and left with 
 little or no supervision, in dirt and neglect 
 indescribable. Even the untried had to bear 
 these miseries, and, still worse, poor lunatics 
 were confined in similar cells frequently till 
 they died. In those days there were few 
 separate asylums for the insane, and something 
 of the old idea of possession caused them to 
 be treated with wanton cruelty, born of fear. 
 
 The treatment there received grieved Eliza- 
 beth Fry's tender womanly heart most deeply. 
 
 That those upon whom had fallen what 
 she termed " the worst of evils except sin " 
 should be treated with peculiar cruelty instead 
 of peculiar tenderness, roused her burning 
 indignation, and to the end of her life 
 
ELIZABETH FRY, 113 
 
 she never ceased to plead their cause. 
 
 Mr. Gurney afterwards published Notes on 
 their tour which attracted much attention. 
 Man)- hitherto unknown abuses were brought to 
 light, and though several attempts were made 
 to contradict the facts he adduced they broke 
 down, and a flood of light streamed in on the 
 dark practices in the prisons. 
 
 Not long after this Mrs. Fry's health failed 
 entirely for a time. Beside her public cares 
 she had deep personal sorrows which seemed 
 to drain all her strength. As soon as possible, 
 however, she returned to London and resumed 
 her toil. 
 
 Her interest in prisoners and the state of 
 prisons was no ' Borioboolaga,' taken up to the 
 exclusion of sympathy with every other class. 
 
 She had real care for suffering of even- 
 kind, and any need was all suftiei nt to claim 
 her large-hearted sympathy. 
 
 The winter of 1819-20 was a terrible time 
 for the poor, lly for the h< 
 
 Mrs. Fry heard a piteous tale of a little lad 
 
 1 
 
114 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 frozen to death on one of the most bitter 
 nights, and could not rest till a shelter had 
 been provided where the hornless might have 
 warm food and shelter, and be found employ- 
 ment. It is curious to see one of the 
 " Darkest England " institutions forestalled by 
 more than half a century by the pitiful thought 
 of one kind heart. Nor did her own children lack 
 that entire sympathy and comprehension in all 
 the details of their lives which children of 
 women engaged in public work are apt to miss. 
 We find her returning from a reading at New- 
 gate, or an interview with distinguished people, 
 to help her little ones with a collection of shells, 
 or write bright motherly letters to her boys at 
 school. 
 
 In 1820-21 she went to nurse sick relations. 
 She had considerable skill in nursing, arising more 
 from loving perception and tact than from any 
 special aptitude, and was in great request in 
 times of sickness. She never lost this womanly 
 tenderness which is so difficult to retain in the 
 battle of life, the loss of which men so much 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 115 
 
 dread for the women who come out before the 
 world. Among others she helped to nurse a 
 sister's four little ones, who all died within five 
 weeks, and her sister Priscilla, whose death in 
 1 82 1 made the first break in this sister-band of 
 seven. 
 
 Towards the end of 1820 Mrs. Fry went a 
 prolonged tour with her husband and two of 
 her daughters for the express purpose of in- 
 specting the principal prisons in England. 
 
 In every place she insisted on going over 
 the gaol herself and questioning all the officials 
 most minutely. Her object was not only to 
 gain information for future use, but to do 
 something practical as far as possible in even- 
 place she visited. 
 
 With unfailing tact and discretion she 
 induced women of influence in almost every 
 place to form a Committee of Visiting Ladies, 
 and overcome prejudices and indifference among 
 the authorities. At each town she would leave 
 a letter for those who had the management of 
 the prisons, pointing out the capabilities for 
 
116 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 improvement, and making suggestions as to what 
 should be done. 
 
 About the same time she began a corres- 
 pondence with Walter Venning (continued on 
 after his death by his brother John Venning) 
 on the subject of Prisons and Lunatic Asylums 
 in Russia. In that country several ladies having 
 heard, of Mrs. Fry's work had united under 
 Princess Sophia Metchersky to form a committee 
 for visiting the female prisoners, and they 
 looked to her for instruction. Under her advice 
 vast improvements were made in the Govern- 
 ment Lunatic Asylums. It was removed to a 
 healthy and beautifully situated Palace, and 
 made as home-like as possible, whereas before 
 it had been a mere prison. 
 
 Mrs. Fry wrote entreating that the inmates 
 might be given the Bible ; this letter was sent 
 to the Emperor who forthwith gave orders for 
 the Bible, in all languages, to be supplied. This 
 was considered by some a very dangerous pro- 
 ceeding, but the result proved to be most 
 satisfactory. Many hours were passed by the 
 
ELIZABETH EKY. 1 1 7 
 
 lunatics reading to themselves or gathered in 
 groups, and the pages of the Bible were often 
 wet with tears. 
 
 During 1821 the Prince and Princess Royal 
 of Denmark came to England, and among 
 other people of note sought an interview with 
 Elizabeth Fry. The Princess afterwards break- 
 fasted with Mrs. Fry at Plashet, and quite an 
 intimacy sprang up between them, many im- 
 provements in the Danish prisons resulting 
 therefrom. Those in high positions felt her 
 dignified courtesy a delightful change after the 
 servility with which they are frequently sur- 
 rounded. 
 
 Her letters to such are charmingly simple. 
 Sin- Bays just what she means and feels, making 
 no difference in her honest truthfulness on ac- 
 count of their rank. 
 
 in this year, too, she was cheered by the 
 great interest shown in Sir James Macintosh's 
 bill for mitigating Capital Punishment, and 
 although it was not passed the fact of its 
 beinir so nearh victorious was evidence that 
 
Il8 ELIZABETH ER¥. 
 
 the public conscience was being aroused. 
 
 Near the end of 1822 Mrs. Fry's last 
 child and first grandchild were born within a 
 few hours of each other. 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 PAIN THAT WAS WORTH THE WHILE. 
 
 Measure thy life by love instead of gam, 
 Not by the wine drunk, but the wine poured forth : 
 For love's strength standeth in love's sacrifice ; 
 And who so suffers most hath most to give. 
 
 H. E. Hamilton King. 
 
 rPHE months passed quickly, marked only 
 by the increasing work they brought to 
 Elizabeth Fry. 
 
 Now it was letters of importance came 
 concerning the management of prisons, or depu- 
 tation of magistrates or ecclesiastics wished to 
 visit Newgate under her guidance ; again 
 the new baby claimed her special time and 
 attention, or there was some sorrowful heart to 
 be cheered and strengthened. Not only those 
 whom tin- world calls unfortunate were lifted 
 up by her, she had absolutely no opinion of 
 the world's judgment, and understood the hopeless- 
 ami unrest that underlies many lives that 
 l<>ok prosperous and bright, knowing thai life- 
 
h 
 
 120 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 weariness is not healed by the glitter of jewels. 
 
 Many among those of high rank to whom 
 she was introduced turned instinctively to her 
 for sympathy and help, and always found it. 
 
 The ' Ladies' Association' grew into the 
 larger ' Ladies' British Association,' which under- 
 took as far as possible the reclaiming of individuals. 
 They tried to look after the women who were 
 discharged from prison. Caroline Neave, an 
 earnest and energetic member of the association, 
 gave both time and money, and by her means 
 a home was started in Westminster, at the end 
 of 1822, for discharged prisoners. Here many of 
 the most destitute were received direct from 
 gaol. 
 
 Elizabeth Fry was greatly puzzled how to 
 help the very young girls who were in prison 
 for petty offences, and those, too, for whom it 
 was obviously impossible to keep straight in 
 their own homes. One day, as she watched 
 some children in Newgate yard about to be 
 discharged, the idea occurred to her of a 
 home where such could be received ; before a 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 1 2 1 
 
 vear had passed such a home had actually been 
 
 opened at Chelsea. 
 
 Her thought was always fruitful of action. 
 She did, not dreamed " noble things." Few con- 
 stitutions, however, could bear the continuous 
 strain Mts. Fry was putting on hers at this 
 time. Beside all her business, she made the 
 peculiar sorrows and difficulties of those around 
 her so much her own as to be at times quite 
 overwhelmed with them. 
 
 / At the beginning of 1824 her health, which 
 for months had been Tailing, completely broke 
 down, and she had unwillingly to leave London 
 for a rest at Brighton. Weary weeks of pros- 
 tration followed. The eager spirit grieved more 
 than those around her could guess. Writing 
 with regard to this time she said " I question 
 whether in my life comfort ami hope were 
 more, if so much, extinct in my heart." 
 
 Under the calm (hiakerly exterior Elizabeth 
 Fry's ardent life beat as warm and fresh as 
 did evt-r that of Elizabeth Gurney, the restless 
 impetuous girl ! But through these Ion- years 
 
122 ELIZABETH PR*. 
 
 she had learned to trust " that, somehow, good 
 should be the final end of ill." Not fruitlessly, for 
 ever from the ashes of her hopes, of her joys, 
 sprang up hope and abiding joy for others ; 
 and therein was Elizabeth Fry content. I 
 
 If we could call her back to earth, and 
 look into her true eyes as we asked " Would 
 you have had one sorrow less ? " we should 
 surely see in them the light of entire satis- 
 faction, as the answer came clear and strong: 
 " By all the lessons of trust learned, by the 
 knowledge of God gained in the darkness ; by 
 the many tried and fainting hearts helped as 
 they alone could have been, through my own 
 weariness and faintness ; by all the unexpected 
 opportunities coming from my pain, a thousand 
 times No." 
 
 And we, too, should learn perchance that 
 we, likewise, shall be satisfied when we see of 
 the travail of our souls, and that we can only 
 comfort others with the comfort of God when 
 we have ourselves received His comfort in our 
 sore need and pain, real and scathing. 
 
ELIZABETH FEV. 12$ 
 
 Hundreds have had cause to rejoice in 
 that visit of Mrs. Fry to Brighton. 
 
 Noting the many beggars which infested 
 the streets, and called at the houses, Mrs. Fry 
 bethought her of a talk she once had with 
 Dr. Chambers on this very subject. The out- 
 come was the establishment of a District Visit- 
 ing Society, which instituted a combination of 
 giving discriminate!)' with a sort of Provident 
 Club. It was not till after sundry delays that 
 it was fairly started, its first Annual Report 
 being published in 1835. 
 
 Daily, through the window, thrown open at 
 night or early morning to admit the fresh air 
 in her attacks of fainting, Mrs. Fry noticed the 
 figure of a coastguardsman pacing the shingly 
 beach. It is a curious psychological study to 
 notice the varying effect the same object has 
 on different minds. To some, that lonely figure 
 pacing to and fro on his dangerous and thank- 
 less service, as in those days it was, might 
 have suggested philosophical or artistic thoughts, 
 but in the feeling heart of Mrs. Fn the 
 
1 24 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 sight awoke sympathy and deep interest. 
 
 How desolate his life must be ! She stopped 
 one day when driving out and spoke to him. 
 Learning this was against regulations and fearing 
 the man might get into trouble she left with 
 him her card to give to the officer in charge 
 of the station, and told him to explain that 
 she had stopped to ask him particulars of the 
 life of coastguardsmen. 
 
 A day or so after, the Naval Lieutenant 
 came to answer her enquiries in person. From 
 him she heard what a dangerous life many of 
 these brave men had to lead, and how cut off 
 they were from human intercourse both by the 
 nature of the service, and the regulations. 
 
 She longed to do something for them, and 
 it occurred to her that it would bring some 
 colour into their lives if they were supplied 
 with Bibles and interesting literature. She took 
 steps at once to provide the stations near 
 Brighton with books, and obtained a grant of 
 Bibles for them from the Bible Society. The 
 men were delighted with her kind thoughtfulness 
 

 
 ELIZABETH l i:\ 
 
 for them, and were most grateful for the books. 
 The warmth with which they were received 
 showed the need for something of this sort. 
 Years after, Mrs. Fry was the means of getting 
 libraries established by Government at all the 
 Coastguard Stations, with a means of ex- 
 change between them. 
 
 In 1835 she visited all the stations along 
 the South Coast, and was eagerly welcomed as 
 a friend at each. Thus multiplied cheer for 
 many a dreary life and dismal Coastguard 
 Station resulted from Mrs. Fry's Brighton visit, 
 although it was only after much opposition that 
 she succeeded in getting the library system 
 established, their practicability being doubted. 
 Had she cared less she would have dropped 
 the subject, but in spite of discouragement, she 
 persevered and won her point. 
 
 During the summer of 1824, Mrs. Fry spent 
 nil very bright months with her family at 
 Dagenham. She was the centre of all the enjoy- 
 ment then, and no picnic or expedition was 
 half complete without her, 
 
126 ELIZABETH FHY. 
 
 The succeeding months at Plashet passed 
 without much event, except the marriage of her 
 eldest son in August, 1825, and Mrs. Fry's 
 occasional visits to London, and other parts of 
 the country. 
 
 It was somewhere about this time that she 
 started a Servants' Society for the help of ser- 
 vants both in situations and out. She always 
 took great interest in the well being of that 
 class, and believed that by a little considerate 
 kindness their lives might be made much 
 happier. 
 
 The years 1825-26, were somewhat anxious 
 times to the Frys, and many of their friends, 
 owing to the commercial depression by which 
 numbers of mercantile houses were entirely over- 
 thrown, while others were so shaken that they 
 never recovered. 
 
 At the beginning of 1827 Mrs. Fry, with 
 her namesake sister-in-law and her brother, 
 Joseph John Gurney, went to Ireland to visit 
 Friends and examine into the state of prisons 
 and asylums. She felt leaving her home acutely, 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 127 
 
 especially as several of her children thought 
 she should stay, forgetting that in giving her up 
 willingly and cheerfully they would be helping 
 on a world-wide work on which interests far 
 beyond the circle of their little lives rested ; 
 this, although it grieved Mrs. Fry deeply could 
 not hold her back. 
 
 Three months of exhausting and unremitting 
 toil were spent, resulting in her being laid up 
 at Waterford seriously ill for a week, from 
 whence she returned home completely worn 
 out. For the remainder of that year she was 
 kept in as constant attendance on her sister 
 Rachel, who was dying of decline, as her 
 many engagements would allow. These two 
 sisters had always been especial friends, and 
 although Rachel Gurney did not hold the same 
 views as Elizabeth Fry, they were wonderfully 
 united in spirit ; the death of this sister in 
 September, 1827 was a great loss to her. 
 
 In the early part of 1828 another of her 
 daughters was married and the future altogether 
 looked fair and encouraging. But that year 
 
128 ELIZABETH FEY. 
 
 which opened so brightly, closed — for this 
 family — in darkness and storm. 
 
 A firm to which Joseph Fry was a partner, 
 without, however, being actively concerned in 
 its management, suddenly failed. 
 
 Mrs. Fry had watched this kind of trouble 
 outside her own circle, now she had to endure 
 it herself. Many turned eagerly to see how 
 she would bear it, for it is one thing to 
 sympathize with others and quite another to be 
 oneself in the thick of whirl and worry, and 
 meet calmly the petty vexations that take away 
 any feeling of heroism. They were not dis- 
 appointed, and learned that she trusted God in 
 foul weather even as in fair. Nevertheless, 
 pain borne bravely is still pain, and this was 
 a bitter trial to her. 
 
 The Sunday after the failure the family were 
 undecided as to whether to go to meeting or 
 not, but Elizabeth Fry felt so sure it would 
 right that they went with her. 
 
 The whole meeting was moved when they 
 saw their beloved minister, who, undemonstrative 
 
ELIZABETH I l:Y. 129 
 
 as she was as to her own feelings, had so 
 often cheered and encouraged many among them, 
 sit in her accustomed place, her head bowed 
 and tears falling silently. Soon she recovered 
 her self possession, and rising, told the meeting 
 simply that it was God and not His gifts she 
 sought, and He was just as much her refuge 
 and help in this time of sorrow as in the old 
 bright days. There were few dry eyes in the 
 room as she resumed her scat. 
 
 A greater grief to Mrs. Fry than leaving 
 the dear old home, or any of the other 
 inevitable perplexities and humiliations which 
 formed the disaster, was the estrangement of her 
 husband and several of her children from the 
 Society of Friends, owing to some of the 
 regulations with regard to business failures. 
 
 Whatever comfort sympathy from outsiders 
 
 can bring at such a time was Mrs. Fry's. 
 
 Letters poured in. and many of these must 
 
 have contained much cheer in their expression 
 
 arty and genuine sorrow at her trouble. 
 
 The Frys moved for a time to Mil.! 
 
130 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 Court, where their eldest son was living. Here 
 there was much illness during the winter, and 
 Mrs. Fry was in consequence kept much en- 
 gaged, in addition to the circumstances of the 
 failure, so that for a time the Prison work was 
 deprived of her active superintendence. 
 
 Thus closed the year which brought so 
 much that appeared only evil upon this noble 
 woman, who of all people seemed to deserve 
 happiness. Now that the story is finished, the 
 picture painted, we can see the reason for the 
 dark shadows, — how her sincerity was proved 
 to all the world, and every occasion removed 
 from those who would say it was lazy to be 
 good and self- forgetting in prosperity, while 
 she was thereby set free in a way she other- 
 wise could not have been, to turn her attention 
 to prisons on the continent. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 MULTUM IN TARVO. 
 
 One who never turned his back but marched 
 
 breast-forward, 
 Never doubting clouds would break, 
 
 Never dreamed, though right were worsted, 
 wrong would triumph, 
 
 Held, we fall to rise, are baffled to fight better, 
 Sleep, to part. 
 
 Robert Browning. 
 
 OO the old life passed away, and the new 
 began. In a little house in Upton lane, 
 near to where her brother Samuel Gurney lived, 
 Klizabeth Fry made home once again for her 
 husband and children. The pinch here was such 
 that they could no longer entertain the Friends 
 who came up to London as they had been 
 wont to do, which Mrs. Fry felt keenly. 
 
 She was soon drawn once more into the 
 whirl of public work, being too unselfish to 
 mope oyer her private sorrows, though she 
 owned in her diary that it was a struggle to 
 recommence visits to meetings, and other public 
 
 work. 
 
1 32 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 About ' this time she compiled a little book 
 with a piece from the Bible for every day. 
 
 We can imagine she selected chiefly those 
 parts which had helped her. This had an 
 immense circulation : it was very simple and] the 
 days when text books became fashionable and 
 superfluous had not dawned. There are many 
 stories connected with it. Here is one. A 
 little grandson ^of Mrs. Fry, to his great 
 distress, lost the copy she had given him. 
 Months after he heard of it again through the 
 clergyman of a parish, some miles distant 
 from his home. The child of a notorious 
 poacher had picked it up and taken it to a 
 wretched hut on the far edge of the common. 
 There the mother was dying, hardened and 
 miserable, shutting her door to all comers. To 
 while away the slow hours she read the book 
 her lad brought home. It proved life to her. 
 She was utterly changed, and died in peace 
 clasping her " precious book" in her wasted 
 hand. 
 
 These tiny volumes were treasured by many 
 
ELIZABETH 1'ILY. 133 
 
 a poor convict in the dreary land of exile, 
 and to many a dark place in England and 
 abroad they found their way, as well as into 
 the homes of the rich and great. 
 
 Meanwhile Mrs. Fry's foreign correspondence 
 increased, for when her name came to be known 
 on the continent applications for her advice 
 were constant. 
 
 In 1831 Mrs. Fry was introduced to the 
 Princess Victoria and her mother the Duchess of 
 Kent. Nearly ten years later they met again, 
 when the Queen, as the Princess had then be- 
 come, took great interest in hearing of the 
 successful prison work. 
 
 This year she was also presented to Queen 
 Adelaide, at a Bazaar, the gaiety and brightness 
 of which presented a strange contrast to the 
 prison scenes, and especially to that on the 
 convict .ship where she had been the night 
 
 before. 
 
 In 1831-1832 Mrs. Fry went several visiting 
 
 tours in England, Ireland, and Y\ \ -counts 
 
 of these would be tedious, pen and paper cannot 
 
134 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 bring back the cheer of those brief glimpses 
 of one whose very presence made life seem 
 worth living. She brought out the best in those 
 she met, and always had a kindly construction 
 to put on the actions and words of others, 
 even when these were against herself. To her, 
 sect and party were nothing, the spirit of real 
 kindliness and love everything, wherever found. 
 Yet withal, her gentleness was the gentleness of 
 strength, not weakness. She never soothed 
 into indifference, but rather by her hopefulness 
 for them who discouraged in the long fierce 
 battle with self, strong to go on fighting harder, 
 caught something of her own unwaver- 
 ing and daring reliance in a God Who Cared. 
 The world hungers for such men and women. 
 As we look down history we see the common 
 people are quick to recognise them, whether the 
 great do or not. Buddah, Confucius, Jesus, (in 
 so far as He was man), Francis de Sales, 
 Katherine of Sienna, Wesley, or Elizabeth Fry, 
 it matters not who they are, or in what age 
 they live, the people ivill find out the Saviour- 
 
ELIZABETH FKY. 135 
 
 spirit and flock to them. This was the case with 
 Mrs. Fry, — wherever she went, ill or well, those 
 in need of any kind turned to her like the 
 Needle to the Pole. In Jersey, where she went 
 in 1833 for her health, a meeting in a cottage 
 was started on Sundays, but soon had to be 
 moved to a larger place because of the numbers 
 which crowded to meet her. 
 
 She visited Guernsey several times in sub- 
 sequent years. 
 
 The work in England went steadily forward. 
 In 1832 Mrs. Fry gave evidence again before a 
 committee of the House of Commons, on 
 Secondary Punishments. Both on this occasion 
 and at other times she made it clear, as in 
 her book of instructions and suggestions on 
 Prison Management, for the associates, that she 
 did not ask luxuries for prisoners, but demanded 
 that prison life should be made the means of 
 r> formation, not of degradation; that every one 
 who entered gaol might have a fair chance to 
 begin life anew on release. 
 
 It goes almost withoul saying thai Elizabeth 
 
136 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 Fry was no more free from discouragements and 
 misunderstandings than other saviours ; often she 
 pressed bravely on in the face of difficulties 
 seemingly insurmountable, to find, as those who 
 honestly try it always do, that "Lov.e conquereth 
 all." 
 
 During one of her stays in Jersey, she 
 thought of extending the coastguard libraries to 
 the boats crossing between England and the 
 Channel Islands. With the help of a Captain 
 Clavell this was done on many of them. 
 
 In 1836 Elizabeth Fry first visited France, 
 being called there by a serious accident which 
 happened to her husband and two of her 
 daughters in Normandy. It was just like her to 
 visit the Prison and Hospital there, while 
 scarcely recovered from the shock of the narrow 
 escape of those so dear to her. This was but 
 the beginning of visit after visit to different 
 parts of the continent. 
 
 Her children, however, she always considered 
 her first care. In 1836 we find a charming 
 little circular-letter written to them, proposing 
 
ELIZABETH I'KY. 137 
 
 to have settled evenings for meeting together, 
 and having unrestrained talk over the Bible or 
 anything that might have interested them, and 
 t" exchange views and ideas. 
 
 She touchingly adds that she feels the loss 
 of not having more help and encouragement 
 hum those whom she had brought up. 
 
 The proposed plan was adopted, and their 
 meetings were continued for several years, even 
 after the death of the mother who had been 
 the central attraction in them. The whole family 
 wire thus brought and kept much nearer one 
 another than they otherwise could have been, 
 differing widely as they did in many ways. 
 
 In this letter and in other places we Si e 
 how entirely Mrs. Fry recognized the responsi- 
 bility of her children for themselves, and their 
 right to opinions differing from her own. Her 
 views on marriage too were very liberal and 
 original for that time. She believed that parents 
 
 rcised too much authority on the subject, 
 and that there would be more truly happy 
 matches if young people, having been carefully 
 
138 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 trained to think and act for themselves, were 
 left free to choose. She considered that marriage 
 was often made too much of a business arrange- 
 ment, love being in her opinion an absolute 
 essential, and deeply regretted the rule then 
 prevailing among Friends which disowned 
 members who " married out " of the Society, 
 
 In 1838, Elizabeth Fry went to Paris with 
 her husband and several Friends. They visited 
 the St. Lazare Prison for women, and the La 
 Force for men, also several other prisons, hos- 
 pitals and schools. At the St. Lazare, where 
 Mrs. Fry spoke to the women through an inter- 
 preter, not only were these deeply moved, but 
 also the very turnkeys, who were present against 
 her wish. They found the prisons much better 
 managed than those in England, indeed some 
 Mrs. Fry considered hardly sufficiently penal. 
 This visit to Paris ended with an interview with 
 the King and Queen, who were greatly interested 
 in the arrangements made for a Ladies' Visiting 
 Committee to the St. Lazare. Flying visits to a few 
 more towns, and the little party returned to England. 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 139 
 
 The following year Mrs. Fry again visited 
 France with her husband, also Switzerland. 
 
 During these tours crowds would gather 
 around Elizabeth Fry and beg for the testaments 
 and little text books she distributed in great 
 quantities. She turned aside from her direct 
 route to many a little village where she would 
 visit peasants who were sick or in trouble. In 
 one instance she was ' the means of restoring 
 peace in a family where the father had turned his 
 daughter Magdelina out of doors because of her 
 Protestant views. At every town she was welcomed 
 by ' pasteurs,' and listened to with respect by 
 magistrates and inspectors of^frisons, with whom 
 she had many interviews. 
 
 We have a description by a student of a 
 
 drawing-room meeting held for Mrs. Fry in 
 
 Captain Trochin's home, near Geneva. 
 
 v 
 
 Willi most of the other students, present he 
 had expected a philosophical discourse on phil- 
 anthropic or general topics, instead of which the 
 pergonal half-unconscious needs of each we're 
 touched on with most delicate and intimate 
 knowledj 
 
HO ELIZABETH ERY. 
 
 One is reminded of the day when Katherine 
 of Sienna addressed a number of young monks 
 and, her discourse ended, their Father confesssor 
 said she might have listened to their confessions, 
 so exactly had she met the needs and difficulties 
 of all. In every age those who know most of 
 God seem to know really most of the hearts of 
 their fellow men. So, breathlessly, did these 
 young men listen to Elizabeth Fry, and felt to 
 have had not a sermon, but a rare glimpse of 
 God. 
 
 In 1840 Mrs. Fry, accompanied by her 
 brother, Samuel Gurney, and others, went to 
 Germany. They had an interview with the King 
 in Brussels, and in the same place Elizabeth 
 Fry addressed a large company assembled at one 
 of the first houses to hear her. In Hanover 
 and other places they found the prisons in a 
 terrible condition, the prisoners being cruelly 
 chained. As Mrs. Fry spoke to them great 
 strong men broke down and sobbed like children. 
 They had learnt to bear in stolid silence the 
 cruelty of man, but at this touch of mercy they 
 
ELIZABETH FRY . 141 
 
 had deemed extinct in heaven and earth they 
 
 melted. This woman who had left home and 
 country for their sake was to them a real mes- 
 senger of God. At many places she spoke to 
 crowded public meetings, on the condition of 
 prisons and other institutions. 
 
 Finding that the Lutheran Church was still 
 persecuted, Mrs. Fry felt she could not neglect 
 the opportunity given her by access to Royalty, 
 of pleading their cause. Through the Crown 
 Prince, to whom she was introduced by the 
 Princess William, she and her friends presented 
 a letter to the King, who was so much touched 
 by it that he remarked "the spirit of God must 
 have helped them to express themselves as they 
 did." 
 
 While in Germany, a day was spent at the 
 Deconener Institute, Kaisersworth, then almost 
 newly start* -d . Here the thought first occunvd 
 to Mrs. Fry of establishing something of the 
 same kind in England. It was owing to her 
 wish, though she could not give much time or 
 attention t<> the project personally, that a 
 
142 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 Society of " Nursing Sisters " was started in this 
 country. 
 
 The latter part of the tour was a great 
 strain on her, and she was seriously ill for some 
 time after her return to England. As soon as 
 she was sufficiently recovered, Mrs. Fry set off for 
 the Hague, where she met the King and Queen 
 of Holland, having letters of introduction from 
 the Prince Consort. 
 
 At Amsterdam their party visited a Lunatic 
 Asylum, which was in a fearful state, the in- 
 mates being treated more like animals than 
 human beings. One poor woman, chained in a 
 cell strewn with straw, attracted by the sweet 
 face of her visitor, or by the unwonted tones 
 of tender pity, crawled towards her as far as 
 her fetters would allow, and seizing one of her 
 hands, covered it with tears and kisses. 
 
 From Holland Mrs. Fry went to Denmark, 
 where she was received in great state by the 
 King and Queen. Before the King she pleaded 
 the cause not only of the prisoners and lu- 
 natics, but of the slaves in the West Indies, and 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 113 
 
 the persecuted Christians in his own realm. 
 
 She spent some months in Germany before 
 returning home. Having been there before, she 
 had much to see to, and many people to meet, 
 both to hear their reports on what had been 
 accomplished since her first visit, and to give 
 advice for future action. She was greatly cheered 
 at finding several improvements. At Hamleyn 
 the chains had been knocked off the prisoners 
 by order of the Queen, and other ameliorations 
 of their condition had been introduced. 
 
 She had many interviews with members of 
 the Royal Family, who were really interested in 
 her work, and afforded her every facility for 
 inspecting prisons and asylums. 
 
 In October, 1841, she arrived in England too 
 much exhausted to be taken home for several 
 weeks. She never really recovered her health 
 again. 
 
 During 1842 Mrs. Fry met Prince Albert, 
 with several leading members of the Government, 
 to talk over prison reform. On this occasion 
 she pleaded earnestly with Sir Robert Feel on 
 
1 44 ELIZABETH FRY. 
 
 behalf of prisoners confined in perfectly dark 
 cells, and entreated that some light should be 
 admitted into them. 
 
 Here during the same year she met again 
 the King of Prussia and several members of 
 the English Royal Family. Before these she 
 gave a Bible reading at Newgate, and enter- 
 tained the Prussian King afterwards at her 
 little home in Upton lane. 
 
 Near the end of 1842, during a stay at 
 Cromer, Mrs. Fry was rejoiced by the Govern- 
 ment appointment of two matrons to a convict 
 ship. This was a great step, as she well knew, 
 in the right direction. 
 
 In 1843 she went for the last time to the 
 continent. In Clermont en Aix she spoke to 
 the nuns in charge of the Central Prison, as 
 well as to the prisoners, - with her daughter as 
 interpreter. " Ah ! she is good " said the Mother 
 Superior, just expressing what all felt who came in 
 contact with her. 
 
 She visited the Duchess of Orleans, and 
 others of high rank, during this time, and held 
 
ELIZABETH FltY. 14o 
 
 several important public meetings. She was 
 cheered to learn that interest in the state of 
 prisons had been fully aroused, and a bill for 
 their improvement brought before the Chamber 
 of Deputies. In June 1843, Elizabeth Fry paid 
 her last official visit as a minister, to the 
 quarterly meeting at Hereford. 
 
 Only a few more weary months of suffering 
 and the sword would be taken from the tired 
 hands that never would have laid it down of 
 themselves, but which wielded it so faithful]} and 
 well to the very end. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 IS THIS THE END ? I KNOW IT CANNOT BE ! 
 
 Yet through the vistas long of -weary years, 
 Thou livest still in the great Human Heart, 
 And in the archives of this sad world's tears 
 God has writ large thine honourable past. 
 
 /^WNE more look. The worn-out body is fail- 
 ing fast. At sixty-four Elizabeth Fry is old 
 beyond her years, and sorrow is aging her still 
 more. 
 
 One soon after the other her sister-in-law, 
 Elizabeth Fry, and her little grandson, Gurney 
 Reynolds, died ; and at this time there was an un- 
 usual number of bereavements in the family. In 
 August, 1844, scarlet fever broke out in her son 
 William's home, and carried off, besides two 
 little ones, the head of the household , 
 
 This last blow was so unexpected, so terrible, 
 that all feared that Mrs. Fry would never rally 
 from it. For a time, however, she did ; the life 
 spent in ministering to others seemed held back 
 
ELIZABETH FRY. 147 
 
 to earth by the pain of those around her, and 
 flickered up for a few months to cheer and 
 comfort. 
 
 SiThe last few weeks of her life wen' spent 
 with her husband and several of her children at 
 Ramsgate. To her now came that shrinking from 
 death which protracted illness often brings, and a 
 mental weakness and inertia most strange and touch- 
 ing to those who had known her as the active 
 and dauntless leader, even in hours of prostration. 
 Still she clung to the Love she knew 
 was stronger than death. Almost her last words 
 were: "It is a strife, but I am safe." I Soon 
 after the brave patient spirit was at rest. 
 
 Good-bye, good-bye, though we on earth 
 see you no more, you are living still, and your 
 loving hands are stretched to us across the 
 years, helping us in our weariness and sorrow 
 to turn in hope, with true hearts, to the ( lod 
 who made 50 fair and pitiful a life as \ours. 
 
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