Eli and Sibyl Jones, Their Life and Work

by Rufus M. Jones

On 4th mo. 1st, 1865, great excitement was felt in the capital city, as the President was personally directing affairs at Richmond, and the fall of the rebellious city was hourly anticipated. On the morning of the 3d came the joyful intelligence that the Confederate capital had been evacuated, and a great tide of rejoicing swept over the loyal States. Sybil Jones describes the scene in Washington as follows:

"I was very fearful the inhabitants would be too full of joy to remember their great Deliverer and give thanks unto His name. We went to Camp Fry, and had to press our way through the throng, often pausing to note the variety of emotions exhibited—all joyful, but neither ridiculous nor profane. A subdued awe seemed to hold in check the lawless and dissipated, and tears of joy suffused the eyes of passers-by. The whistles of the engines, the roar of cannon, the music of the various bands, and the shouts of the multitude, mingled with the prayers, praises, and hallelujahs of the colored people, some down on their knees in the dust of the street, others dancing like David before the ark of the covenant on its return to its place,—all commingled in one mighty jubilant song which I trust was not devoid of the grateful tribute of praise to the great God of heaven and earth. We at length entered the ward of the sick and wounded of two regiments, about two thousand men. As we passed in I said, 'To-day is the nation's jubilee, and we have come to present our thank-offering with you, as you cannot join the street celebration.' A smile and 'Thank you' went round and brightened up the scene. We read a beautiful psalm and bore a testimony to the power and goodness of God, not only in hope of the full and entire emancipation of the slaves, but in disclosing to us to-day, behind the folds of the dark war-cloud, the silver lining of peace. We besought them to come to the Lamb of God, seeing his mercy and loving-kindness had been so great to them as to spare them amid the din of battle when their comrades had fallen all around them."

Sybil Jones and her friends visited Seminary Hospital, and found among the wounded a young Friend from Illinois, who was much comforted by hearing the gospel tidings from a member of the Society he loved so well. A sad scene presented itself in Douglas Hospital. There had just arrived three hundred terribly mangled soldiers, some passing away, some in agony with lost limbs. It was an indescribably painful scene, and the one "Physician of value" was recommended to the poor sufferers.

They addressed many prisoners of war, deserters from the South, and refugees. They were listened to with seriousness, and many were in tears. On a visit to Stanton Hospital, Sybil Jones met a young man from Maine named Eben Dinsmore. He told her that her son, James Parnel Jones, had been his captain when he first enlisted, and afterward his major. He spoke in the highest terms of his kindness to the men and his unspotted name, and said he heard a soldier of the same regiment say that he was with him from the time he was wounded until his death, and never saw a person die so happy, singing as he passed away.

At this time Sybil Jones and friends moved their lodgings, at the kind invitation of their friend Isaac Newton, to make their home with him for a while.

On the 15th of 4th mo. came the dreadful news that the good man who had stood so nobly at the head of the nation in this dreadful crisis had gone from works to reward, slain by the hand of the assassin. The great joy was turned into deepest mourning that he who was so endeared to all loyal hearts could not be with them to enjoy the restful time of peace. They held a meeting in the rooms of the Agricultural Department, and were comforted in their great grief by the presence of Him who said to the troubled waves, "Peace, be still." A visit was made to Stone Hospital, and it was found that the suffering ones there had had little religious instruction, but seemed grateful for Christian counsel. One poor fellow, who was dying and felt his lost condition, was entreated to look to the "Lamb of God."

A young lady came one day to Isaac Newton's and asked if a Quaker lady who preached was there. She said that some one had been thinking how appropriate it would be to have a Friends' meeting, for the awful stroke inclined them to be silent. Isaac Newton offered his parlors, and Sybil Jones consented. She says in her diary: "We met at seven o'clock, and it was one of the most blessed seasons I have enjoyed in this city. The silence seemed to have healing in its wings and balm to the stricken spirit." Much service was done in Emory Hospital; the poor fellows on their beds were visited one by one, and each was lovingly spoken to. They held meetings at Emory Hospital for the convalescent soldiers, and by all they were most gladly received. Harwood and Finley Hospitals were fields of labor, and in each the gospel message was thankfully received. At first the surgeon in charge said that he never allowed service in the wards where the men were badly wounded or passing away. Sybil Jones said to him, "Doctor, wouldst thou take the responsibility of keeping the gospel from dying men, the suffering soldiers of our country, far from their homes and mothers?"—"No," said he, "but I do not want them disturbed."—She said, "Our services never disturb; we are a quiet people." She then told him that she had a pass to all hospitals in the United States, but would not insist upon entering without his full permission. He then gave it most freely. The service was gladly received, and it seemed like drops of rain on a dry and thirsty land.

Sybil Jones felt that she must bear a message of her heavenly Father's love and sympathy to the widow of the lamented President. She had been ill, confined to her bed in the White House, since the fatal stroke. Sybil Jones says of the visit: "All crushed and broken under the heavy stroke, I spoke to her of the heavenly Chastener's love and care, and said that He could bind up the broken heart and give peace. She cordially invited us to come again. Her two sons, one about ten and the other about twenty, were at home, and very affectionate and attentive to their suffering mother, though themselves evidently feeling very deeply the sad event."

Sybil Jones felt that she was given a message for Secretary Stanton. She in company with others went to his house in the evening, and, passing a guard of soldiers, was most kindly received by his interesting wife, the Secretary being absent. They spent an hour in pleasant conversation, and then the Secretary came and greeted them kindly. Very soon silence reigned, and Sybil Jones, after asking permission, rose and addressed the Secretary, telling him that as he had been raised up by the Almighty for the important duties of his office, he must dispense justice and judgment in the fear of God, plead the cause of the oppressed, and humbly in all things do the will of the great King, and the eternal God should be his refuge. She told him that, though his life had been sought, the angel of the Lord had guarded him, and if his trust was in Him no harm should befall him. After her remarks the Secretary rose and thanked her most profoundly, and told her that her gospel message was most grateful, and said that he needed the prayers of the people and that his trust was in God.

Sybil Jones went again by invitation to call on the President's widow. She was still in bed, much prostrated. The rooms were all lighted as in the days when their master paced through them with the weight of his mission pressing upon him. One lone sentinel guarded the mansion—a strange contrast to the past, when a strong guard was deemed necessary. The desolate lady gave them a sweet welcome, and told them some cheering incidents of her husband's last days. She said that several times during the last day he lived he said, "This is the happiest day of my life." He seemed to feel that the great work was done, and he rejoiced that the cloud which hung over his beloved America had lifted. Sybil Jones then spoke to her cheeringly of the sympathy of Jesus with the sorrowing sisters of Bethany—that in her boys she had a charge to keep for the King. After a season of feeling prayer they parted tenderly.