Having visited London, the south of England, and Wales, she began when not more than eighteen years of age, those manifold labours of philanthropy, which have raised her to a distinguished place among the benefactors of mankind.
In 1800, she became the wife of Joseph Fry, Esq., of Upton, Essex, then a banker in London. The wedding was on the 19th of August, at the Friends’ Meeting House, in Norwich. We shall quote her own description of the day. “I awoke in a sort of terror at the prospect before me, but soon gained quietness, and something of cheerfulness; after dressing we set off for meeting; I was altogether comfortable. The meeting was crowded; I felt serious, and looking in measure to the only sure place for support. It was to me a truly solemn time; I felt every word, and not only felt, but in my manner of speaking expressed how I felt; Joseph also spoke well. Most solemn it truly was. After we sat silent some little time, Sarah Chandler knelt down in prayer; my heart prayed with her. I believe words are inadequate to describe the feelings on such an occasion. I wept a good part of the time, and my beloved father seemed as much overcome as I was. The day passed off well, and I think I was very comfortably supported under it, although cold hands and a beating heart were often my lot.” It was much more the custom then than it is now, for the junior partner to reside in the house of business; and accordingly Mr. and Mrs. Joseph Fry prepared to establish themselves in St. Mildred’s Court, in the city of London. The house was suitable in every way; and continued to be an occasional residence of different members of the family, till it was pulled down in consequence of alterations.
Elizabeth Fry was, by her marriage, brought into completely new circumstances. Unlike her own parents, her father- and mother-in-law were “plain and consistent Friends;” and thus she found herself the “gay, instead of the plain and scrupulous one of the family.” This brought her into difficulty and trial; and she feared, lest in the desire to please all, she should in any degree swerve from the line of conduct she believed right for herself. Nevertheless, for several years her life flowed smoothly on, in a round of domestic and other virtues. But God visits His people with trials, for the very same reason that the refiner casts his silver into the furnace. He tries them, to purify them. Again and again had sickness been permitted to enter her immediate circle, and she was frequently called upon to witness the last moments of dear relatives. In 1808, her father-in-law, William Storrs Fry, died at St. Mildred’s Court, where she had nursed him for several weeks. His decease produced an important change in her circumstances, causing the removal of the family to Plashet, a hamlet in the parish of East Ham, Essex, in the spring of 1809. The change from the din of the city to the quiet of the country, was not the less appreciated because years had left traces of hard-earned experience.
In 1811, she was publicly acknowledged by the Society of Friends as one of their ministers. A Mrs. Fry, or a Miss Marsh, may with much success labour for the eternal weal of souls. Those who would hinder them ought to bear in mind that God inspired women of old with the spirit of prophecy, and gave the songs of more than one of them a place in sacred literature. In the memoir edited by two of her daughters, we read as follows: “One thing is obvious, that it was as a minister of the Society of Friends, and as such only, shielded by its discipline and controlled by its supervision, that she could have carried out her peculiar vocation in the world and the Church.” She attended the first meeting of the Norwich Bible Society, and ever after took a deep interest in that noble institution. Elizabeth Fry evidently entered upon the scene of her future labours among the poor female felons in Newgate, without any idea of the importance of its ultimate results. That career, while presenting an almost inexhaustible fund of instructive thought, is yet, necessarily, somewhat repetitive. It is the glory of benevolence to be uniform.
Queen Charlotte heard of this exemplary woman, and in 1818 she went by royal command to the Mansion House. She should have been presented to her Majesty in the drawing-room, but by some mistake, she was conducted to the Egyptian Hall. The queen perceived Mrs. Fry, and advanced to address her. A murmur of applause ran through the assembly, when they saw the diminutive queen covered with diamonds, and the tall Mrs. Fry, in her simple Quakeress’s dress, earnestly conversing together. It was royal rank paying homage at the shrine of royal worth. In 1831, she had an interview with the Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria; and reminded the young princess of King Josiah, who began to reign when eight years old, and did that which was right in the sight of the Lord. The same year she had some conversation with Queen Adelaide, chiefly on benevolent subjects. In 1840, Lord Normandy presented her to Queen Victoria, at Buckingham Palace. Her present majesty had sent her £50, for a refuge at Chelsea, and inquired about Catherine Neave’s refuge, for which she had sent another £50. Mrs. Fry thanked her, and before withdrawing, reminded our noble queen of the words of Scripture, “with the merciful Thou wilt show Thyself merciful;” and assured her that it was her prayer that the blessing of God might rest upon her and Prince Albert, to whom she was about to be married.
Her health now began to fail, from over-fatigue and anxiety; but she rallied, and only ceased from works of benevolence when her strength was entirely spent. As increasing infirmity prevented her from active employment, she occupied herself with correspondence, which by degrees became enormous.
In August, 1845, Mrs. Fry was removed to Ramsgate, as sea air was considered desirable for her, and after some difficulty her husband obtained a house exactly suited to her necessities. For some time the hopes and fears of her relatives were kept in a constant state of alternation regarding her recovery. On the 10th of October, she appeared better, but shortly after was seized with a paralytic attack, which, though it did not render her speechless, destroyed her capacity for rational communication. The will seemed gone, and the inclination to resist or even desire anything, passed away. The last words she spoke were, “Oh! my dear Lord, help and keep thy servant.” She died on the 12th, aged sixty-five. The night had been dark, but the morning broke gloriously; and soon after the eternal light had dawned upon her soul, the sun rose from the ocean, and
“Flamed in the forehead of the morning sky.”
A vast multitude attended her funeral, not to listen to the language of inflated eulogy, but to testify the estimation in which the departed was held. The procession passed between the grounds of Plashet House, her once happy home, and those of Plashet Cottage, to the Friends’ burying-ground at Barking, Essex, where her grave was prepared. There is no appointed funeral service among Friends. A deep silence pervaded the mighty assembly. At length her brother, Joseph John Gurney, addressed the thousands gathered around her tomb, and offered solemn prayer.
EARLY SCHEMES OF USEFULNESS.