been succeeded by his brother, James II. James II.’s attempt to upset
the authority of Parliament, and to rule by his own will alone, led to
the rebellion which, in 1688, made his daughter, Mary, and her husband,
William of Orange, King and Queen of England. Whilst these stirring
events were passing, Lady Russell was living quietly in the country, her
only fear was lest her children should run any risk. Once things were
settled, she knew that she could count upon the friendship of William
and Mary, and at the Duke of Bedford’s wish, she went with him to
London. She was full of thankfulness for the change, and wrote that it
was difficult to believe that it was more than a dream, yet it was real
and an amazing mercy. Her husband’s friend, Dr. Burnet, came over with
Mary, and was made Bishop of Salisbury. One of the first acts of the new
government was to reverse the sentence passed on Lord Russell, and the
House of Commons decreed that his execution had been a murder.
Lady Russell was now in a position of influence and importance, but she
did not change her quiet way of living. A paper that she wrote about
this time for her children shows her loving anxiety for them. In it,
after bidding them never to forget their prayers morning and evening,
she tells them about her own prayers, and how she always carried with
her a little piece of paper on which she noted her faults, that she
might ask forgiveness for them; in this way she had gained a habit of
constant watchfulness.
One of her anxieties had been to arrange suitable marriages for her
children, and it was a great joy to her when her husband’s closest
friend, the Duke of Devonshire, proposed that his son should marry her
eldest daughter. When this marriage was decided on, Lady Elizabeth was
only fourteen and Lord Cavendish not sixteen. Lady Russell had to go to
London to make the necessary arrangements, and felt it right to go more
into society, though she said that going to parties was hard for one
with a heavy and weary mind. The marriage was delayed by the bride
having an attack of measles, and when it did take place, the young
couple only spent three weeks together under Lady Russell’s care, and
then Lord Cavendish was sent to finish his education by travelling on
the continent for two years. A few years later Lady Russell married her
younger daughter to the eldest son of the Duke of Rutland, the best
match in England. When her son was only fifteen, a seat in Parliament
was offered her for him, but she refused because she thought him too
young. She had, however, already arranged a marriage for him to a girl
in whose education she took the deepest interest. He was married when he
was fifteen, but his wife stayed at home with her mother and he went to
Oxford for a year’s study, during which his mother often visited him. At
seventeen he was sent to travel abroad, as Lady Russell believed that to
“live well in the world, it is for certain necessary to know the world
well.” During his travels he caused her some anxiety for he took to
gambling, and lost so much money that when he came home, she had to ask
his grandfather for money to pay his debts. Shortly afterwards his
grandfather died, and he became Duke of Bedford. Now it seemed as if
Lady Russell’s anxieties were over, since her three children were all
happily married, but sorrow followed her to the last. Her son, in the
fulness of life and health, was seized with smallpox, the haunting
terror of those days before vaccination was discovered. His wife and
children had to fly from the infection, and only his mother, with her
never-failing courage, stayed to soothe his last moments. Shortly
afterwards her younger daughter, the Duchess of Rutland, died. Once
again a demand was made on Lady Russell’s courage. Her only remaining
daughter, the Duchess of Devonshire, had just given birth to a child; it
was feared that, if she heard of the death of her sister, the shock
might be fatal; so her mother stayed with her and did not let her learn
the truth, telling her that she had that day seen her sister out of bed,
by which she really meant that she had seen her in her coffin.
Another trouble of Lady Russell’s later life was the fear of blindness;
but she bore this calamity with patience till an operation restored her
sight. She lived till the age of eighty-eight, when she died after a
short illness, watched over by the loving care of her only remaining
child. During a long life, her courage, her love, her faith had never
failed her in spite of her sore trials. It is interesting to remember
that three of the chief families of England, the houses of Devonshire,
Bedford, and Rutland, look back to this pure, warm-hearted woman and her
murdered husband as their common ancestors.
VI
ELIZABETH FRY
IN and round Norwich have gathered for a long time many of the chief
families belonging to the Society of Friends, the religious body whose
members are commonly called Quakers. It was founded by an earnest
Christian preacher in the seventeenth century, who taught men to lead a
true and simple Christian life, to have nothing to do with what he
considered vain pleasures, such as music and dancing, to dress very
simply, to worship in silence without any set prayers or any ordained
minister, waiting for the Spirit to move one of the members to pray or
address the meeting. The Gurneys were one of the chief families
belonging to the Society of Friends; and John Gurney, who lived at
Earlham, a nice country place near Norwich, was the father of seven
daughters and four sons. The third of these daughters, Elizabeth, was
born in 1780, and when she was only twelve years old her mother died,
leaving Catherine, the eldest child, who was not quite seventeen, to
take her place as well as she could. The Gurneys were a very happy,
lively family. They did not follow the Quaker rules strictly; they rode
about the country on their ponies, dressed in scarlet habits, and loved
dancing and singing and gaiety of all kinds. But they were carefully
educated and brought up to take a deep interest in religion. Elizabeth
was delicate, and could not study much; neither did she often go to
Meeting, as the Friends call their religious gathering, partly because
she was not strong, and partly because it bored her. One day, when she
was eighteen, she had gone to Meeting wearing some very smart boots,
which pleased her very much; they were purple, laced with scarlet. She
was restless and sat and looked at her boots. But presently a stranger
began to preach, a visitor from America. She was forced to listen, and
was so moved with what she heard that she began to weep. This was the
beginning of a great change in her; she awoke to the reality of
religion, and began to feel that she must become what was called a plain
Friend, one who followed the rules of the Society in every particular.
But first she wished to know more of the world, and, with her father’s
consent, she paid a visit to London, where she shared in a great deal of
gaiety. Still her determination to give it all up only grew stronger.
Her sisters, though they dearly loved her, did not share her ideas, and
grieved when she would not join their amusements. She found some
satisfaction in teaching poor children in Norwich, for whom there were
no schools in those days. At last many of her difficulties were settled
by her marriage, when she was twenty, with Mr. Joseph Fry, who was also
a plain Friend. His family were so strict that amongst her new relations
Elizabeth found herself the gay one of the family, instead of the strict
one as she had been in her own home.
[Illustration:
_Photo: Emery Walker._
ELIZABETH FRY.
]
The Frys lived in London, in the city, as business men then did; later
they lived also at Plasket House in Essex, then a beautiful country
place, but now covered by the crowded population of East Ham. They had a
large family, eleven children in all, and Mrs. Fry was devoted to her
husband and her children, but from the first she did not feel that on
their account she must give up all work for others. She visited the poor
and helped the suffering wherever she could. She was naturally timid and
unwilling to put herself forward. Amongst Friends it is the constant
habit to trust to the guidance of the Holy Spirit to show both what
should be done and to gain strength to do it. As a young woman Mrs. Fry
had felt shy even at reading the Bible at family prayers in her own
house. As she grew older she began to feel that it might be her duty to
speak at the Friends’ Meetings. She seemed at last to be driven by the
Holy Spirit to do so, and though frightened beforehand, when once she
had begun all was easy. The Meeting which she attended was pleased with
her speaking and chose her for one of their regular ministers. This was
when she was thirty-one and already the mother of seven children. After
this she was a frequent speaker at Friends’ Meetings all over the
country.
The Friends as a body were always anxious to help suffering and misery
of every kind. Some gentlemen well known to Mrs. Fry, having learnt of
the miserable condition of the women in Newgate, then one of the chief
prisons in London, asked her to visit them one winter to see if she
could not do something to improve their condition. It was a terrible
scene that Mrs. Fry found when, alone with one other lady, she entered
Newgate prison in January 1813. In four rooms were crowded nearly 300
women and with them many children. Those who had been tried, and those
who had not yet been tried, were all herded together, whether guilty of
grave or trifling crimes. There was no woman to take care of them; day
and night they were under the charge of one man and his son. They had no
employment of any kind; they had no clothing supplied but what they had
on when they came. In rags and dirt they slept on the filthy floor
without any bedding, and they cooked, lived, and slept in the same
rooms. When strangers visited them, as seems to have been allowed, they
all started begging, and when they were given any money they at once
bought drink, which could be got in the prison. Their language and their
conduct were alike terrible, and the governor of the prison himself
feared to go amongst them. He begged Mrs. Fry and her companion to
remove the watches which hung at their sides lest they should be
snatched from them by the women, but they paid no heed to his warning.
The two ladies had brought with them a supply of warm garments which
they distributed amongst the wretched prisoners, and before leaving each
said a few words of prayer, which moved some of their listeners to
tears.
Mrs. Fry did not forget what she had seen at Newgate, but it was four
years before she was able to do anything more for the prisoners. She was
much taken up with family affairs, and she was often ill. She had her
own large family, and besides her many brothers and sisters, most of
them with families of their own, who all wished her to share their joys
and troubles. She was devoted in her care of her children, nursed them
when they were ill, and was so gentle and loving in her ways that all
little children loved her; but the cares of a large household were
burdensome to her and she was glad to give over the management of the
house to her daughters as they grew old enough. At Christmas 1816, she
again visited Newgate, and this time she asked to be left alone with the
women for some hours. She read to them out of the Bible and explained
what she had read. The children of the wretched women, half-naked and
pining for want of proper food and exercise, especially called forth her
pity. She spoke to the mothers about the terrible dangers of their
growing up in such a place, and said that if they were willing to help,
she would get permission to start a school for the children. The mothers
agreed with tears of joy. The governor of the prison had not much hope
that anything would come of the experiment, but he agreed to allow an
empty cell to be used as a school. A teacher was found amongst the
prisoners, a young woman, Mary Connor, who was in prison for stealing a
watch. Next day the school was opened, and so many wished to learn that
room could not be found for all in the cell. For fifteen months Mary
Connor taught the prison school with much devotion; then she was given a
free pardon, but died of consumption shortly afterwards. Mrs. Fry and a
little group of ladies, whom she interested in the work, helped her
constantly. One of these described her first visit to the prison by
saying that she felt as if she were going into a den of wild beasts. The
half-naked women begging at the top of their voices, struggled together
to get to the front of the railing which divided the room. The ladies as
they passed through to the school were horrified at the conduct of these
poor women, who spent their time in gambling, betting, swearing,
fighting, singing, and dancing.
At first it seemed as if the only thing that could be done would be to
choose out the least vicious and to try, by keeping them apart, to bring
them to a better life. No one thought it possible to do anything for the
most degraded. But Mrs. Fry, as she talked with them and got to know
them, could not give up hope of being able in some way to be of use to
all. She wanted at least to teach them some sort of work; but the
officers of the prison assured her that they would only destroy or steal
any materials she might give them. Still she was determined to find a
way, and a few weeks afterwards she wrote: “A way has very remarkably
been opened for us, beyond all expectations, to bring into order the
poor prisoners.” She was able to form a small association of ladies for
the “improvement of the female prisoners at Newgate,” and the city
magistrates gave her permission to introduce order and work into the
prison if it could be done. She and her fellow-workers made their plans,
and drew up a set of rules for the life of those prisoners who had been
tried. They then gathered the women together, told them what they
intended to do for them, and read the rules one by one to them, asking
whether they would keep them. All held up their hands in sign of
approval after each rule was read, and in the same way they chose
monitors amongst themselves to see that the rules were kept. Each day,
before work was begun, one of the ladies read the Bible and prayed with
the women. All went on so smoothly and well that every one was amazed.
After six months, the untried prisoners begged that they too might have
work provided for them, which was done.
By degrees, in spite of her desire to keep it quiet, people all over the
country began to hear of the work that Mrs. Fry was doing at Newgate,
and wrote to ask her advice to help them to improve the condition of
other prisons. The House of Commons was led to take interest in the
state of the prisons, and invited Mrs. Fry to tell what she knew about
them to a committee chosen to look into the matter. It was not only the
bad condition of the prisons that troubled her, but the nature of the
law, which then punished with death, not only as at present the crime of
murder, but also forgery and various kinds of stealing. Mrs. Fry saw
many women condemned to death, and was specially troubled by the case of
one young woman who had passed some forged notes at the request of the
man she loved. She tried in vain to obtain her pardon; and her fate
determined her not to rest until the law were changed.
In those days persons guilty of serious crime, who were not condemned to
death, were sent as convicts to some of the distant colonies. They were
taken to the docks through the streets in open waggons, shouting to the
crowd as they passed and behaving with the utmost disorder. This, too,
Mrs. Fry set herself to change. She asked that the women might be taken
in covered carriages, and promised them that if they would behave
quietly she and some of the ladies would come to see them off. Her own
carriage followed the long line of coaches which took the women, 128 in
number, with their children to the docks. When she reached the ship she
was dismayed at the miserable arrangements made for the convicts, who
were herded together with no one to care for them and nothing to do. She
succeeded in dividing them into classes of twelve with a monitor to keep
order over each, and found a corner of the ship where a school could be
arranged for the children, with one of the convicts as teacher. To get
occupation for the women she collected great quantities of scraps of
cloth of all kinds, and set them to make patchwork quilts, which she
heard would easily be sold in the colonies. In this way they were able
to earn a little money to help them when they came to settle in a new
land. She gave Bibles and prayer-books to the monitors for the use of
their classes, and made arrangements for those who wished, to learn to
read. When the day came for the ship to sail, Mrs. Fry was there to say
a last good-bye. She stood at the door of the cabin with her friends and
the captain; the women were gathered in front of her, many of the
sailors had climbed into the rigging so as to see better what was going
on, even the crews in neighbouring ships leant over the sides to watch.
Mrs. Fry opened her Bible and amidst profound silence read some verses
in her beautiful clear voice. Then she paused for a moment, knelt down
on the deck and prayed for God’s blessing, whilst many of the women
wept. After this a boat carried her to the shore, and the women strained
their eyes to see her as long as possible.
[Illustration:
MRS. FRY READING TO THE PRISONERS IN NEWGATE, 1816.
(_After the Picture by Jerry Barrett._)
]
Mrs. Fry’s work at Newgate was talked about everywhere. People of all
kinds—bishops, ministers of religion, great nobles, and smart ladies,
even members of the royal family—came to Newgate to hear Mrs. Fry teach
and pray with the prisoners. It became a fashionable amusement, but the
solemn scene could not fail to affect even the most frivolous. As they
listened to Mrs. Fry’s winning voice, with its beautiful silvery tones,
they forgot to think of the prisoners and thought only of the way in
which the words she had spoken touched their own lives. The silence that
followed used to be broken by sobs from prisoners and visitors alike.
Mrs. Fry gave her mind not only to teaching the prisoners and trying to
lessen their sufferings, but to studying the whole question of prison
reform. She wished to see things so changed that prisons might become
places where criminals should not only be punished but helped to become
better. She travelled all over the country, sometimes with her husband,
sometimes with her brothers, who were also zealous workers in prison
reform, visiting the different prisons. Journeys were sometimes
undertaken also to visit Friends’ Meetings and speak at them; but
wherever she went she always tried to inspect the prison, to form
ladies’ committees to visit the prisons, and to persuade the authorities
to improve their arrangements. She tried to be of use to other people
also. There was a great deal of smuggling in those days, and there had
to be many stations of coastguards to watch for smugglers. Mrs. Fry was
sorry for the dull and lonely lives led by many of these men, and with
the help of her friends provided for their use libraries of books at all
the coastguard stations.
She went to Ireland also to visit the prisons with her brother, who was
deeply interested in the same work, and later they visited Jersey.
Whenever she was in London, she paid a weekly visit to Newgate, and she
sometimes visited the men as well as the women. The Prime Minister, Lord
Melbourne, was full of admiration for her work, and helped her to get
improvements made in the care of the women and children on the convict
ships.
Mrs. Fry’s fame had spread over Europe, and when she was already
fifty-nine, with many grandchildren growing up around her, she decided
to visit France and study French prisons. Wherever she went she was
received with much enthusiasm. Some of the prisons that she saw she
admired very much, but in others she noticed much to criticise, and she
always freely expressed her opinions. In some towns in France she was
able to form committees of ladies to visit the prisons. After a second
visit she prepared a long report for the French government about the
prisons she had seen, and the reforms she thought desirable. Repeated
requests came to her to visit new places, and she made a third journey
to the continent with her brother, when they got as far as Berlin. In
Prussia she was treated with much honour by the king and queen, and by
many members of the royal family. The following year the King of Prussia
came to England, and one of the things he was most anxious to do whilst
in London was to be present at one of Mrs. Fry’s visits to Newgate. He
came to the prison accompanied by the Lord Mayor and many gentlemen.
There in one of the wards Mrs. Fry and some of the ladies were gathered
with about sixty of the poor women. She told them that the presence of
such distinguished visitors must not be allowed to distract their
attention, and she read the Bible and prayed with them as usual. The
same day the king drove out to see her at her own house in the country,
and she presented to him her large family, sons and daughters, with
their wives and twenty-five grandchildren. She writes of the day: “Our
meal was handsome and fit for a king, yet not extravagant, everything
most complete and nice. I sat by the king, who appeared to enjoy his
dinner, perfectly at his ease and very happy with us.”
Once more after this Mrs. Fry visited France, but she was growing feeble
and tired out with her many labours. She had to suffer some months of
illness, during which her daughters tended her with the greatest
devotion. She wrote herself that she was much struck in this illness
with the manner in which her children had been raised up as her helpers.
Many sorrows came to her in her last years from the death of her
relations, but suffering and sorrow did not shake her faith. She had the
comfort during the last years of her life, of hearing of all the
improvements that were being made in the prisons, to reform which she
had done so much. To the last she shared all the joys and sorrows of her
children and of the other members of her large family. For about two
years she led more or less the life of an invalid, and died in October
1845, at the age of sixty-five.
It has only been possible to tell a very little of all the work she did
for others during the years of her busy life. But whilst she did all
this public work, and influenced kings and governments in favour of
reforms, and ministered herself to the needs of the sinful and the
suffering, she never forgot her duties as a devoted wife and the mother
of a large family of children, who loved her with the deepest
tenderness. Neither did she neglect her brothers and sisters and their
children. Her public work, though it absorbed much time and thought, did
not take her away from her other duties. She remains an example of what
a woman can do who feels the call to serve others, and who does not
believe that she can refuse to obey that call even though she has a
family and a husband to care for.
VII
MARY SOMERVILLE
MARY FAIRFAX, who grew up to be the most learned woman of her day, was
born in Scotland in 1780. Her father was a captain in the navy, and
whilst he was away with his ship, her mother, who was not at all well
off, lived quietly with her children at Burntisland, a small seaport on
the coast of Fife. She did not take much trouble about Mary’s education.
In those days it was not thought necessary that girls should learn much;
Mary was taught to read the Bible and to say her prayers morning and
evening, but otherwise was allowed to grow up a wild creature. As a
little girl of seven or eight she pulled the fruit for preserving,
shelled the peas and beans, fed the poultry, and looked after the dairy.
She did not care for dolls, and had no one to play with her, for her
only brother was some years older; but she was very happy in the garden,
and loved to watch the birds and learnt to know them by their flight.
[Illustration:
_Photo: Emery Walker._
MARY SOMERVILLE.
]