Elizabeth Fry
by Emma Raymond Pitman · English · Gutenberg #16606 · 413,966 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: Elizabeth Fry
Author: Emma Raymond Pitman
Release date: August 27, 2005 [eBook #16606]
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Language: English
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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ELIZABETH FRY ***
Produced by Mark C. Orton, Martin Pettit and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net
+Famous Women+
ELIZABETH FRY.
_The next volumes in the Famous Women Series
will be:_
THE COUNTESS OF ALBANY. By Vernon Lee.
HARRIET MARTINEAU. By Mrs. Fenwick Miller.
MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT. By Elizabeth Robins Pennell.
_Already published:_
GEORGE ELIOT. By Miss Blind.
EMILY BRONTË. By Miss Robinson.
GEORGE SAND. By Miss Thomas.
MARY LAMB. By Mrs. Gilchrist.
MARGARET FULLER. By Julia Ward Howe.
MARIA EDGEWORTH. By Miss Zimmern.
ELIZABETH FRY. By Mrs. E.R. Pitman.
[Illustration: Famous Women]
ELIZABETH FRY.
BY
MRS. E.R. PITMAN.
BOSTON:
ROBERTS BROTHERS.
1884.
_Copyright, 1884,_
BY ROBERTS BROTHERS.
UNIVERSITY PRESS:
JOHN WILSON AND SON, CAMBRIDGE.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PAGE.
LIFE AT EARLHAM, A HUNDRED YEARS AGO. 1
CHAPTER II.
LIFE'S EARNEST PURPOSE. 12
CHAPTER III.
ST. MILDRED'S COURT. 23
CHAPTER IV.
A COUNTRY HOME. 29
CHAPTER V.
BEGINNINGS AT NEWGATE. 39
CHAPTER VI.
NEWGATE HORRORS AND NEWGATE WORKERS. 52
CHAPTER VII.
EVIDENCE BEFORE THE HOUSE OF COMMONS. 75
CHAPTER VIII.
THE GALLOWS AND ENGLISH LAWS. 97
CHAPTER IX.
CONVICT SHIPS AND CONVICT SETTLEMENTS. 112
CHAPTER X.
VISITS TO CONTINENTAL PRISONS. 131
CHAPTER XI.
NEW THEORIES OF PRISON DISCIPLINE AND MANAGEMENT. 153
CHAPTER XII.
MRS. FRY IN DOMESTIC AND RELIGIOUS LIFE. 182
CHAPTER XIII.
COLLATERAL GOOD WORKS. 212
CHAPTER XIV.
EXPANSION OF THE PRISON ENTERPRISE--HONORS. 228
CHAPTER XV.
CLOSING DAYS OF LIFE. 253
CHAPTER XVI.
FINIS. 265
ELIZABETH FRY.
CHAPTER I.
LIFE AT EARLHAM, A HUNDRED YEARS AGO.
A hundred years ago, Norwich was a remarkable centre of religious,
social and intellectual life. The presence of officers, quartered with
their troops in the city, and the balls and festivities which attended
the occasional sojourn of Prince William Frederick, Duke of Gloucester,
combined to make the quaint old city very gay; while the pronounced
element of Quakerism and the refining influences of literary society
permeated the generation of that day, and its ordinary life, to an
extent not easily conceived in these days of busy locomotion and
new-world travel. Around the institutions of the established Church had
grown up a people loyal to it, for, as an old cathedral city, the charm
of antiquity attached itself to Norwich; while Mrs. Opie and others
known to literature, exercised an attraction and stimulus in their
circles, consequent upon the possession of high intellectual powers and
good social position. It was in the midst of such surroundings, and with
a mind formed by such influences, that Elizabeth Fry, the prison
philanthropist and Quaker, grew up to young womanhood.
She was descended from Friends by both parents: her father's family had
been followers of the tenets of George Fox for more than a hundred
years; while her mother was granddaughter of Robert Barclay, the author
of the _Apology for the People called Quakers_. It might be supposed
that a daughter of Quaker families would have been trained in the
strictest adherence to their tenets; but it seems that Mr. and Mrs. John
Gurney, Elizabeth's parents, were not "plain Quakers." In other words,
they were calm, intellectual, benevolent, courteous and popular people;
not so very unlike others, save that they attended "First-day meeting,"
but differing from their co-religionists in that they abjured the strict
garb and the "thee" and "thou" of those who followed George Fox to
unfashionable lengths, whilst their children studied music and dancing.
More zealous brethren called the Gurneys "worldly," and shook their
heads over their degenerate conduct; but, all unseen, Mrs. Gurney was
training up her family in ways of usefulness and true wisdom; while
"the fear of the Lord," as the great principle of life and action, was
constantly set before them. With such a mother to mould their infant
minds and direct their childish understandings, there was not much fear
of the younger Gurneys turning out otherwise than well. Those who shook
their heads at the "worldliness" of the Gurneys, little dreamt of the
remarkable lives which were being moulded under the Gurney roof.
One or two extracts from Mrs. Gurney's diary will afford a fair insight
into her character:--
If our piety does not appear adequate to supporting us in the
exigencies of life, and I may add, death, surely our hearts cannot
be sufficiently devoted to it. Books of controversy on religion are
seldom read with profit, not even those in favor of our own
particular tenets. The mind stands less in need of conviction than
conversion. These reflections have led me to decide on what I most
covet for my daughters, as the result of our daily pursuits. As
piety is undoubtedly the shortest and securest way to all moral
rectitude, young women should be virtuous and good on the broad,
firm basis of Christianity; therefore it is not the tenets of any
man or sect whatever that are to be inculcated in preference to
those rigid but divine truths contained in the New Testament. As it
appears to be our reasonable duty to improve our faculties, and by
that means to render ourselves useful, it is necessary and very
agreeable to be well-informed of our own language, and the Latin as
being most permanent, and the French as being the most in general
request. The simple beauties of mathematics appear to be so
excellent an exercise to the understanding, that they ought on no
account to be omitted, and are, perhaps, scarcely less essential
than a competent knowledge of ancient and modern history, geography
and chronology. To which may be added a knowledge of the most
approved branches of natural history, and a capacity of drawing
from nature, in order to promote that knowledge and facilitate the
pursuit of it. As a great portion of a woman's life ought to be
passed in at least regulating the subordinate affairs of a family,
she should work plain work herself, neatly; understand the
cutting-out of linen; also she should not be ignorant of the common
proprieties of a table, or deficient in the economy of any of the
most minute affairs of a family. It should be here observed that
gentleness of manner is indispensably necessary in women, to say
nothing of that polished behavior which adds a charm to every
qualification; to both which, it appears pretty certain, children
may be led without vanity or affectation by amiable and judicious
instruction.
These observations furnish the key-note to Mrs. Gurney's system of
training, as well as indicate the strong common-sense and high
principles which actuated her. It was small wonder that of her family of
twelve children so many of them should rise up to "call her blessed."
Neither was it any wonder that Elizabeth, "the dove-like Betsy" of her
mother's journal, should idolize that mother with almost passionate
devotion.
Elizabeth was born on May 21st, 1780, at Norwich; but when she was a
child of six years old, the Gurneys removed to Earlham Hall, a pleasant
ancestral home, about two miles from the city. The family was an old
one, descended from the Norman lords of Gourney-en-brai, in Normandy.
These Norman lords held lands in Norfolk, in the time of William Rufus,
and have had, in one line or another, representatives down to the
present day. Some of them, it is recorded, resided in Somersetshire;
others, the ancestors of Mrs. Fry, dwelt in Norfolk, generation after
generation, perpetuating the family name and renown. One of these
ancestors, John Gurney, embraced the principles of George Fox, and
became one of the first members of the Society of Friends. Thus it came
to pass that Quakerism became familiar to her from early
childhood--indeed, was hereditary in the family.
Elizabeth tells us that her mother was most dear to her; that she seldom
left her mother's side if she could help it, while she would watch her
slumbers with breathless anxiety, fearing she would never awaken. She
also speaks of suffering much from fear, so that she could not bear to
be left alone in the dark. This nervous susceptibility followed her for
years, although, with a shyness of disposition and reserve which was but
little understood she refrained from telling her fears. She was
considered rather stupid and dull, and, from being continually
described as such, grew neglectful of her studies; while, at the same
time, delicacy of health combined with this natural stupidity to prevent
anything like precocious intelligence. Still, Elizabeth was by no means
deficient in penetration, tact, or common-sense; she possessed
remarkable insight into character, and exercised her privilege of
thinking for herself on most questions. She is described as being a shy,
fair child, possessing a poor opinion of herself, and somewhat given to
contradiction. She says in her early recollections: "I believe I had not
a name only for being obstinate, for my nature had a strong tendency
that way, and I was disposed to a spirit of contradiction, always ready
to see things a little differently from others, and not willing to yield
my sentiments to them."
These traits developed, in all probability, into those which made her so
famous in after years. Her faculty for independent investigation, her
unswerving loyalty to duty, and her fearless perseverance in works of
benevolence, were all foreshadowed in these early days. Add to these
characteristics, the religious training which Mrs. Gurney gave her
children, the daily reading of the Scriptures, and the quiet ponderings
upon the passages read, and we cannot be surprised that such a character
was built up in that Quaker home.
At twelve years of age Elizabeth lost her mother, and in consequence
suffered much from lack of wise womanly training. The talents she
possessed ripened and developed, however, until she became remarkable
for originality of thought and action; while the spirit of benevolent
enterprise which distinguished her, led her to seek out modes of
usefulness not usually practiced by girls. Her obstinacy and spirit of
contradiction became in later years gradually merged or transformed into
that decision of character, and lady-like firmness, which were so
needful to her work, so that obstacles became only incentives to
progress, and persecution furnished courage for renewed zeal. Yet all
this was tempered with tender, conscientious heart-searching into both
motives and actions.
During her "teens" she is described as being tall and slender,
peculiarly graceful in the saddle, and fond of dancing. She possessed a
pleasing countenance and manner, and grew up to enjoy the occasional
parties which she attended with her sisters. Still, from the records of
her journal, we find that at this time neither the grave worship of
Quakerism nor the gayeties of Norwich satisfied her eager spirit. We
find too, how early she kept this journal, and from it we obtain the
truest and most interesting glimpses into her character and feelings.
Thus at seventeen years of age she wrote:--
I am seventeen to-day. Am I a happier or a better creature than I
was this day twelvemonths? I know I am happier--I think I am
better. I hope I shall be happier this day year than I am now. I
hope to be quite an altered person; to have more knowledge; to have
my mind in greater order, and my heart too, that wants to be put in
order quite as much.... I have seen several things in myself and
others I never before remarked, but I have not tried to improve
myself--I have given way to my passions, and let them have command
over me, I have known my faults and not corrected them--and now I
am determined I will once more try with redoubled ardor to overcome
my wicked inclinations. I must not flirt; I must not be out of
temper with the children; I must not contradict without a cause; I
must not allow myself to be angry; I must not exaggerate, which I
am inclined to do; I must not give way to luxury; I must not be
idle in mind. I must try to give way to every good feeling, and
overcome every bad. I have lately been too satirical, so as to hurt
sometimes: remember it is always a fault to hurt others.
I have a cross to-night. I had very much set my mind on going to
the Oratorio. The Prince is to be there, and by all accounts it
will be quite a grand sight, and there will be the finest music;
but if my father does not wish me to go, much as I wish it, I will
give it up with pleasure, if it be in my power, without a
murmur.... I went to the Oratorio. I enjoyed it, but I spoke sadly
at random--what a bad habit!
There is much difference between being obstinate and steady. If I
am bid to do a thing my spirit revolts; if I am asked to do a
thing, I am willing.... A thought passed my mind that if I had some
religion I should be superior to what I am; it would be a bias to
better actions. I think I am by degrees losing many excellent
qualities. I am more cross, more proud, more vain, more
extravagant. I lay it to my great love of gayety and the world. I
feel, I know I am falling. I do believe if I had a little true
religion I should have a greater support than I have now; but I
have the greatest fear of religion, because I never saw a person
religious who was not enthusiastic.
It will be seen that Elizabeth at this period enjoyed the musical and
social pleasures of Norwich, while at the same time she had decided
leanings towards the plain, religious customs of the Friends. It is not
wonderful that her heart was in a state of unrest and agitation, that at
times she scarcely knew what she longed for, nor what she desired to
forsake. The society with which she was accustomed to mingle contained
some known in Quaker parlance as "unbelievers"; perhaps in our day they
would be regarded as holding "advanced opinions." One of the most
intimate visitors at Earlham was a gentleman belonging to the Roman
Catholic communion, but his acquaintance seemed rather to be a benefit
than otherwise, for he referred the young Gurneys in all matters of
faith to the "written word" rather than to the opinions of men or books
generally. Another visitor, a lady afterwards known to literature as
Mrs. Schimmelpenninck, was instrumental in leading them to form sound
opinions upon the religious questions of the day. They were thus
preserved from the wave of scepticism which was then sweeping over the
society of that day.
Judging from her journal of this date, it is not easy to detect much, if
any, promise of the future self-denying philanthropy. She seemed
nervously afraid of "enthusiasm in religion"; even sought to shun
anything which appeared different from the usual modes of action among
the people with whom she mingled. A young girl who confessed that she
had "the greatest fear of religion," because in her judgment and
experience enthusiasm was always allied with religion, was not, one
would suppose, in much danger of becoming remarkable for philanthropy.
True, she was accustomed to doing good among the poor and sick,
according to her opportunities and station; but this was nothing
strange--all the traditions of Quaker life inculcate benevolence and
kindly dealing--what she needed was "_the expulsive power of a new
affection_." This "new affection"--the love of Christ--in its turn
expelled the worldliness and unrest which existed, and gave a tone to
her mental and spiritual nature, which, by steady degrees, lifted her
up, and caused her to forget the syren song of earth. Not all at
once,--in the story of her newborn earnestness we shall find that the
habits and associations of her daily life sometimes acted as drawbacks
to her progress in faith. But the seed having once taken root in that
youthful heart, germinated, developed, and sprang up, to bear a glorious
harvest in the work of reclaiming and uplifting sunken and debased
humanity.
CHAPTER II.
LIFE'S EARNEST PURPOSE.
There was no sharp dividing-line between worldliness and consecration of
life in Elizabeth Gurney's case. The work was very gradually
accomplished; once started into earnest living, she discerned, what was
all unseen before, a path to higher destinies. Standing on the ruins of
her former dead self, she strove to attain to higher things. The
instrument in this change was a travelling Friend from America--William
Savery.
These travelling Friends are deputed, by the Quarterly Meetings to which
they belong, to visit and minister among their own body. Their
commission is endorsed by the Yearly Meeting of the Ministers and Elders
of the Society, before the Friend can extend the journey beyond his own
country. The objects of these visits are generally relating to
benevolent and philanthropic works, or to the increase of religion among
the members of the Society. Joseph John Gurney himself visited America
and the Continent upon similar missions, and in some of his journeys
was accompanied by his illustrious sister.
William Savery was expected to address the Meeting of Friends at
Norwich, and most, if not all, of the Gurney family were present.
Elizabeth had been very remiss in her attendance at meeting; any and
every excuse, in addition to her, at times, really delicate health,
served to hinder attendance, until her uncle gently but firmly urged the
duty upon her. Thenceforward she went a little more frequently, but
still was far from being a pattern worshipper; and it will be conceded
that few, save spiritual worshippers, could with profit join in the
grave silence, or enjoy the equally grave utterances of ordinary
meeting. But William Savery was no ordinary man, and the young people at
Earlham prepared to listen to him, in case he "felt moved" to speak,
with no ordinary attention. Giving an account of this visit, Richenda
Gurney admitted that they liked having Yearly Meeting Friends come to
preach, for it produced a little change; from the same vivacious pen we
have an account of that memorable service. Memorable it was, in that it
became the starting-point of a new career to Elizabeth Gurney.
The seven sisters of the Earlham household all sat together during that
eventful morning, in a row, under the gallery. Elizabeth was restless
as a rule when at meeting, but something in the tone of William Savery's
voice arrested her attention, and before he had proceeded very far she
began to weep. She continued to be agitated until the close of the
meeting, when, making her way to her father, at the men's side of the
house, she requested his permission to dine at her uncle's. William
Savery was a guest there that day, and, although somewhat surprised at
his daughter's desire, Mr. Gurney consented to the request. To the
surprise of all her friends Elizabeth attended meeting again in the
afternoon, and on her return home in the carriage her pent-up feelings
found vent. Describing this scene, Richenda Gurney says: "Betsey sat in
the middle and astonished us all by the great feelings she showed. She
wept most of the way home. The next morning William Savery came to
breakfast, and preached to our dear sister after breakfast, prophesying
of the high and important calling she would be led into. What she went
through in her own mind I cannot say, but the results were most powerful
and most evident. From that day her love of the world and of pleasure
seemed gone."
Her own account of the impressions made upon her reads just a little
quaintly, possibly because of the unfamiliar Quaker phraseology.
"To-day I have felt that _there is a God!_ I have been devotional, and
my mind has been led away from the follies that it is mostly wrapped up
in. We had much serious conversation; in short, what he said, and what I
felt, was like a refreshing shower falling upon earth that had been
dried for ages. It has not made me unhappy; I have felt ever since
_humble_. I have longed for virtue: I hope to be truly virtuous; to let
sophistry fly from my mind; not to be enthusiastic and foolish but only
to be so far religious as will lead to virtue. There seems nothing so
little understood as religion."
Good resolutions followed, and determined amendment of life, as far as
she conceived this amendment to be in accordance with the Bible. While
in this awakened state of mind, a journey to London was projected. Mr.
Gurney took her to the metropolis and left her in charge of a
trustworthy attendant, in order that she might make full trial of "the
world" which she would have to renounce so fully if she embraced plain
Quakerism. Among the good resolutions made in view of this journey to
London, we find that she determined not to be vain or silly, to be
independent of the opinion of others, not to make dress a study, and to
read the Bible at all available opportunities. It was perhaps wise in
her father to permit this reasoning, philosophical daughter of his to
see the gayeties of London life before coming to a final decision
respecting taking up the cross of plain Quakerism; but had her mind been
less finely balanced, her judgment less trained, and her principles less
formed, the result might have been disastrous.
She went, and mingled somewhat freely with the popular life of the great
city. She was taken to Drury Lane, the Covent Garden theatres, and to
other places of amusement, but she could not "like plays." She saw some
good actors; witnessed "Hamlet," "Bluebeard," and other dramas, but
confesses that she "cannot like or enjoy them"; they seemed "so
artificial." Then she somewhat oddly says that when her hair was dressed
"she felt like a monkey," and finally concluded that "London was not the
place for heartful pleasure." With her natural, sound common sense, her
discernment, her intelligence and purity of mind, these amusements
seemed far below the level of those fitted to satisfy a rational
being--so far that she almost looked down on them with contempt. The
truth was, that having tasted a little of the purer joy of religion, all
other substitutes were stale and flat, and this although she scarcely
knew enough of the matter to be able correctly to analyze her own
feelings.
Among the persons Elizabeth encountered in the metropolis, are found
mentioned Amelia Opie, Mrs. Siddons, Mrs. Inchbold, "Peter Pindar," and
last, but by no means least, the Prince of Wales. Not that she really
talked with royalty, but she saw the Prince at the opera; and she tells
us that she admired him very much. Indeed, she did not mind owning that
she loved grand company, and she certainly enjoyed clever company, for
she much relished and appreciated the society of both Mrs. Opie and Mrs.
Inchbald. This predilection for high circles and illustrious people was
afterwards to bear noble fruit, seeing that she preached often to
crowned heads, and princes. But just then she had little idea of the
wonderful future which awaited her. She was only trying the experiment
as to whether the world, or Christ, were the better master. Deliberately
she examined and proved the truth, and with equal deliberation she came
to the decision--a decision most remarkable in a girl so young, and so
dangerously situated.
Her own review of this period of her life, written thirty years later,
sums up the matter more forcibly and calmly than any utterance of a
biographer can do. She wrote:--
Here ended this important and interesting visit to London, where I
learned much, and had much to digest. I saw and entered many
scenes of gaiety, many of our first public places, attended balls
and other places of amusement. I saw many interesting characters in
the world, some of considerable eminence in that day. I was also
cast among the great variety of persons of different descriptions.
I had the high advantage of attending several most interesting
meetings of William Savery, and having at times his company and
that of a few other friends. It was like the casting die of my
life, however. I believe it was in the ordering of Providence for
me, and that the lessons then learnt are to this day valuable to
me. I consider one of the important results was the conviction of
those things being wrong, from seeing them and feeling their
effects. I wholly gave up, on my own ground, attending all public
places of amusement. I saw they tended to promote evil; therefore,
even if I could attend them without being hurt myself, I felt in
entering them I lent my aid to promote that which I was sure, from
what I saw, hurt others, led them from the paths of rectitude, and
brought them into much sin. I felt the vanity and folly of what are
called the pleasures of this life, of which the tendency is not to
satisfy, but eventually to enervate and injure the mind. Those only
are real pleasures which are of an innocent nature, and are used as
recreations, subjected to the Cross of Christ. I was in my judgment
much confirmed in the infinite importance of religion as the only
real stay, guide, help, comfort in this life, and the only means of
having a hope of partaking of a better. My understanding was
increasingly opened to receive its truths, although the glad
tidings of the Gospel were very little, if at all, understood by
me. I was like the blind man, although I could hardly be said to
have attained the state of seeing men as trees. I obtained in this
expedition a valuable knowledge of human nature from the variety I
met with; this, I think, was useful to me, though some were very
dangerous associates for so young a person, and the way in which I
was protected among them is in my remembrance very striking, and
leads me to acknowledge that at this most critical period of my
life the tender mercy of my God was marvelously displayed towards
me, and that His all-powerful--though to me then almost unseen and
unknown--hand held me up and protected me.
Self-abnegation and austerity were now to take the place of pleasant
frivolities and fashionable amusements. Her conviction was that her mind
required the ties and bonds of Quakerism to fit it for immortality. Not
that she, in any way, trusted in her own righteousness; for she gives it
as her opinion that, while principles of one's own making are useless in
the elevation and refinement of character, true religion, on the
contrary, does exalt and purify the character. Still the struggle was
not over. Long and bitter as it had been, it became still more bitter;
and the nightly recurrence of a dream at this period will serve to show
how agitated was her mental and spiritual nature. Just emancipated from
sceptical principles, accustomed to independent research, and deciding
to study the New Testament rather than good books, when on the
border-land of indecision and gloomy doubt, yet not wholly convinced or
comforted, her sleeping hours reflected the bitter, restless doubt of
her waking thoughts. A curious dream followed her almost nightly, and
filled her with terror. She imagined herself to be in danger of being
washed away by the sea, and as the waves approached her, she experienced
all the horror of being drowned. But after she came to the deciding
point, or, as she expressed it, "felt that she had really and truly got
real faith," she was lifted up in her dream above the waves. Secure upon
a rock, above their reach, she watched the water as it tossed and
roared, but powerless to hurt her. The dream no more recurred; the
struggle was ended, and thankful calm became her portion. She accepted
this dream as a lesson that she should not be drowned in the ocean of
this world, but should mount above its influence, and remain a faithful
and steady servant of God.
Elizabeth's mind turned towards the strict practices of the Friends, as
being those most likely to be helpful to her newly-adopted life. A visit
paid to some members of the Society at Colebrook Dale, intensified and
confirmed those feelings. She says in her journal that it was a dreadful
cross to say "thee," and "thou," instead of speaking like other people,
and also to adopt the close cap and plain kerchief of the Quakeress;
but, in her opinion, it had to be done, or she could not fully renounce
the world and serve God. Neither could she hope for thorough
appreciation of these things in her beloved home-circle. To be a "plain
Quaker," she must in many things be far in advance of father, sisters,
and brothers; while in others she must tacitly condemn them. But she was
equal to the demand; she counted the cost, and accepted the
difficulties. At this time she was about nineteen years of age.
As a beginning, she left off many pleasures such as might have
reasonably been considered innocent. For instance, she abandoned her
"scarlet riding-habit," she laid aside all personal ornament, and
occupied her leisure time in teaching poor children. She commenced a
small school for the benefit of the poor children of the city, and in a
short time had as many as seventy scholars under her care. How she
managed to control and keep quiet so many unruly specimens of humanity,
was a standing problem to all who knew her; but it seems not unlikely
that those qualities of organization and method which afterwards
distinguished her were being trained and developed. Added to these, must
be taken into account the power which a strong will always has over
weaker minds--an important factor in the matter. Still more must be
taken into account the strong, earnest longing of an enthusiastic young
soul to benefit those who were living around her. Earnest souls make
history. History has great things to tell of men and women of faith; and
Elizabeth Gurney's life-work colored the history of that age. A brief
sentence from her journal at this time explains the attitude of her mind
towards the outcast, poor, and neglected: "I don't remember ever being
at any time with one who was not extremely disgusting, but I felt a sort
of love for them, and I do hope I would sacrifice my life for the good
of mankind." Very evidently, William Savery's prophesy was coming to
pass in the determination of the young Quakeress to do good in her
generation.
CHAPTER III.
ST. MILDRED'S COURT.
After a visit in the north of England with her father and sisters,
Elizabeth received proposals of marriage from Mr. Joseph Fry of London.
His family, also Quakers, were wealthy and of good position; but for
some time Elizabeth seemed to hesitate about entering on married life.
Far from looking on marriage as the goal of her ambition, as is the
fashion with many young women, she was divided in her mind as to the
relative advantages of single and married life, as they might affect
philanthropic and religious work. After consultation with her friends,
however, the offer was accepted, and on August 19th, 1800, when she was
little more than twenty years of age, she was married to Mr. Fry, in the
Friends' Meeting House, at Norwich. Very quickly after bidding her
school-children farewell, Mrs. Fry proceeded to St. Mildred's Court,
London, her husband's place of business, where she commenced to take up
the first duties of wedded life, and where several of her children were
born.
The family into which she married was a Quaker family of the strictest
order. So far from being singular by her orthodoxy of manners and
appearance, she was, in the midst of the Frys, "the gay, instead of the
plain and scrupulous one of the family." For a little time she
experienced some difficulty in reconciling her accustomed habits with
the straight tenets of her husband's household and connections, but in
the end succeeded. It seems singular that one so extremely conscientious
as Elizabeth Fry, should have been considered to fall behindhand in that
self-denying plainness of act and speech which characterized others; but
so it was. And so determined was she to serve God according to her
light, that no mortification of the flesh was counted too severe
provided it would further the great end she had in view. Her extreme
conscientiousness became manifest in lesser things; such, for instance,
as anxiety to keep the strict truth, and that only, in all kinds of
conversation.
Thus, she wrote in her journal:--
I was told by ---- he thought my manners had too much of the
courtier in them, which I know to be the case, for my disposition
leads me to hurt no one that I can avoid, and I do sometimes but
just keep to the truth with people, from a natural yielding to them
in such things as please them. I think doing so in moderation is
pleasant and useful in society. It is among the things that
produce the harmony of society; for the truth must not be spoken
out at all times, at least not the whole truth. Perhaps I am
wrong--I do not know if I am--but it will not always do to tell our
minds.... I am one of those who try to serve God and Mammon. Now,
for instance, if I wish to say anything I think right to anyone, I
seldom go straight to the point, but mostly by some softening,
round-about way, which, I fear, is very much from wishing to please
man more than his Maker!
It is evident that Elizabeth Fry dared to be singular; very possibly
only such self-renouncing singularity could have borne such remarkable
fruits of philanthropy. It required some such independent, philosophical
character as hers to strike out a new path for charitable effort.
During the continuance of the Yearly Meeting in London, the home in St.
Mildred's Court was made a house of entertainment for the Friends who
came from all parts of the country. It was a curious sight to see the
older Friends, clad in the quaint costume of that age, as they mingled
with the more fashionably or moderately dressed Quakers. The sightseers
of London eighty years ago must have looked on amused at what they
considered the vagaries of those worthy folks. The old Quaker ladies are
described as wearing at that date a close-fitting white cap, over which
was placed a black hood, and out of doors a low-crowned broad beaver
hat. The gowns were neatly made of drab camlet, the waists cut in long
peaks, and the skirts hanging in ample folds. For many years past these
somewhat antiquated garments have been discarded for sober
"coal-scuttles," and silk dresses of black or gray, much to the
improvement of the fair wearer's appearance. These Friends were
entertained at Mr. Fry's house heartily, and almost religiously. And
doubtless many people who were of the "salt of the earth" were numbered
among Mr. Fry's guests, while his young wife moved among them the
embodiment of refined lady-like hospitality and high principle.
Doubtless, too, the quiet home-talk of these worthy folks was only one
degree less solemn and sedate than their utterances at Yearly Meeting.
Mrs. Fry followed up her chosen path in ministering to the sick and poor
among the slums of London. She visited them at their homes, and
traversed dirty courts and uninviting alleys in the quest of individuals
needing succor. Sometimes she was made the instrument of blessing; but
at other times, like all philanthropists, she was deceived and imposed
upon. One day a woman accosted her in the street, asking relief, and
holding an infant who was suffering evidently with whooping-cough. Mrs.
Fry offered to go to the woman's house with the intention of
investigating and relieving whatever real misery may have existed. To
her surprise the mendicant slunk away as if unwilling to be visited; but
Mrs. Fry was determined to track her, and at last brought her to earth.
The room--a filthy, dirty, poverty-cursed one--contained a number of
infants in every conceivable stage of illness and misery.
Horror-stricken, Mrs. Fry requested her own medical attendant to visit
this lazar-house; but on going thither next morning he found the woman
and her helpless brood of infants gone. It then turned out that this
woman "farmed" infants; deliberately neglected them till she succeeded
in killing them off, and then concealed their deaths in order to
continue to receive the wretched pittances allowed for their
maintenance. Such scenes and facts as these must have opened the eyes of
Mrs. Fry to the condition of the poorest classes of that day, and
educated her in self-denying labor on their behalf.
She also took an interest in educational matters, and formed an
acquaintance with Joseph Lancaster, the founder of the Monitorial
system, and quickly turned her talents to account in visiting the
workhouse and school belonging to the Society of Friends at Islington.
About this time, one sister was married to Mr. Samuel Hoare, and
another to Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton. Other members of her family passed
away from this life; among them her husband's mother, and a brother's
wife. Some time later Mr. Fry senior, died, and this event caused the
removal of the home from St. Mildred's Court to Plashet, in Essex, the
country seat of the family. Writing of this change, she said: "I do not
think I have ever expressed the pleasure and comfort I find in a country
life, both for myself and the dear children. It has frequently led me to
feel grateful for the numerous benefits conferred, and I have also
desired that I may not rest in, nor too much depend on, any of these
outward enjoyments. It is certainly to me a time of sunshine."
CHAPTER IV.
A COUNTRY HOME.
The delight expressed in her diary upon her removal to Plashet, found
vent in efforts to beautify the grounds. The garden-nooks and
plantations were filled with wild flowers, gathered by herself and
children in seasons of relaxation, and transferred from the coppices,
hedgerows and meadows, to the grounds, which appeared to her to be only
second in beauty to Earlham. Mrs. Fry was possessed of a keen eye for
Nature's beauties. Quick to perceive, and eager to relish the delights
of the fair world around, she took pleasure in them, finding relaxation
from the many duties which clustered about her in the spot of earth on
which her lot was cast. Her journal tells of trials and burdens, and
sometimes there peeps out a sentence of regret that the ideal which she
had formed of serving God, in the lost years of youth, had been absorbed
in "the duties of a careworn wife and mother." Yet what she fancied she
had lost in this waiting-time had been gained, after all, in
preparation. This quiet, domestic life was not what she had looked
forward to when in the first flush of youthful zeal. Still, she was
thereby trained to deal with the young and helpless, to enter into
sorrows and woes, and to understand and sympathize with quiet suffering.
But the time was coming for more active outward service, and when the
call came Elizabeth Fry was found ready to obey it.
Towards the end of 1809 her father died, after great suffering; summoned
by one of her sisters, Elizabeth hurried down to Earlham to catch, if
possible, his parting benediction. She succeeded in arriving soon enough
to bear her much-loved parent company during his last few hours of life,
and to hear him express, again and again, his confidence in the Saviour,
who, in death, was all-sufficient for his needs. As he passed away, her
faith and confidence could not forbear expression, and, kneeling at the
bedside, she gave utterance to words of thanksgiving for the safe and
happy ending of a life which had been so dear to her. The truth was, a
burden had been weighing her down for some time past, causing her to
question herself most seriously as to whether she were willing to obey
"the inward voice" which prompted her to serve God in a certain way.
This specific way was the way of preaching in Meeting, or "bearing
testimony," as she phrased it, "at the prompting of the Holy Spirit." It
will be remembered that this is a distinguishing peculiarity of the
society which George Fox founded. Preaching is only permitted upon the
spur of the moment, as people of the world would say, but at the
prompting of the inward voice, as Quakers deem. Certainly no one ever
became a preacher among the Friends "for a piece of bread." If fanatics
sometimes "prophesied" out of the fullness of excited brains, or fervid
souls, no place-hunter adopted the pulpit as a profession. Only,
sometimes, it needs the presence of an overwhelming trial to bring out
the latent strength in a person's nature; and this trial was furnished
to Elizabeth Fry in the shape of her father's death. The thanksgiving
uttered by her at his death was also publicly repeated at the funeral,
probably with additional words, and from that time she was known as a
"minister."
In taking this new departure she must not be confounded with some female
orators of the present age, who often succeed in turning preaching into
a hideous caricature. She was evidently ripening for her remarkable
work, and while doing so was occasionally irresistibly impelled to give
utterance to "thoughts that breathe and words that burn." Still, after
reaching the quiet of Plashet, and reviewing calmly her new form of
service, she thus wrote, what seemed to be both a sincere and
common-sense judgment upon herself:--
I was enabled coming along to crave help; in the first place, to be
made willing either to do or to suffer whatever was the Divine will
concerning me. I also desired that I might not be so occupied with
the present state of my mind as to its religious duties, as in any
degree to omit close attention to all daily duties, my beloved
husband, children, servants, poor, etc. But, if I should be
permitted the humiliating path that has appeared to be opening
before me, to look well at home, and not discredit the cause I
desire to advocate.
Wise counsels these, to herself! No woman whose judgment is
well-balanced, and whose womanly-nature is finely strung, but will
regard the path to the rostrum with shrinking and dismay. Either the
desire to save and help her fellow-creatures, "plucking them out of the
fire," if need be, is so strong upon her as to overmaster all fear of
man; or else the necessities and claims of near and dear ones lay
compulsion upon her to win support for them. Therefore, while every
woman can be a law unto herself, no woman can be a law unto her sisters
in this matter. As proof of her singleness of heart, another passage may
be quoted from Mrs. Fry's journal. It runs thus, and will be by no
means out of place here, seeing that it bears particularly upon the new
form of ministry then being taken up by her:--
May my being led out of my own family by what appears to me
_duties_, never be permitted to hinder my doing my duty fully
towards it, or so occupy my attention as to make me in any degree
forget or neglect home duties. I believe it matters not where we
are, or what we are about, so long as we keep our eye fixed on
doing the Great Master's work.... I fear for myself, lest even this
great mercy should prove a temptation, and lead me to come before I
am called, or enter service I am not prepared for.... This matter
has been for many years struggling in my mind, long before I
married, and once or twice when in London I hardly knew how to
refrain. However, since a way has thus been made for me it appears
as if I dared not stop the work; if it be a right one may it go on
and prosper, if not, the sooner stopped the better.
Very soon after penning these words, the Meeting of which she was a
member acknowledged Mrs. Fry as a minister, and thus gave its sanction
to her speaking in their religious assemblies.
But, not content with this form of service, she visited among her poor
neighbors, bent on actively doing good. She secured a large room
belonging to an old house, opposite her own dwelling, and established a
school for girls on the Lancasterian pattern there. Very quickly, under
the united efforts of Mrs. Fry, the incumbent of the parish, and a
benevolent young lady named Powell, a school of seventy girls was
established, and kept in a prosperous condition. This school was still
in working order a few years ago.
Plashet House was a depot of charity. Calicoes, flannels, jackets,
gowns, and pinafores were kept in piles to clothe the naked; drugs
suited to domestic practice were stored in a closet, for healing the
sick; an amateur soup-kitchen for feeding the hungry was established in
a roomy out-building, and this long years before public soup-kitchens
became the rage; whilst copies of Testaments were forthcoming on all
occasions to teach erring feet the way to Heaven. But her charity did
not stop with these things.
An unsavory locality known as "Irish Row," about half a mile off, soon
attracted her attention. The slatternliness, suffering, shiftlessness,
dirt and raggedness, were inducements to one of her charitable
temperament to visit its inhabitants, having their relief and
improvement in view; while her appreciation of the warm-heartedness and
drollery of the Irish character afforded her genuine pleasure. Proximity
to English life had not refined these Irish; their houses were just as
filthy, their windows as patched and obscured with rags, their children
just as neglected, and their pigs equally familiar with those children
as if they had lived in the wilds of Connemara. Shillalahs, wakes,
potatoes, and poverty were distinguishing characteristics of the
locality; whilst its inhabitants were equally ready, with the free and
easy volatility of the Irish mind, to raise the jovial song, or utter
the cry of distress.
The priest and spiritual director of "Irish Row" found himself almost
powerless in the presence of this mass of squalid misery. That Mrs. Fry
was a Quaker and a Protestant, did not matter to him, provided she could
assist in raising this debased little colony into something like orderly
life and decency. So he cooperated with her, and with his consent she
gave away Bibles and tracts, vaccinated and taught the children, as well
as moved among them generally in the character of their good genius.
When delicate and weak, she would take the carriage, filled with
blankets and clothes for distribution, down to Irish Row, where the
warm-hearted recipients blessed their "Lady bountiful" in terms more
voluble and noisy than refined. Still, however unpromising, the soil
bore good fruit. Homes grew more civilized, men, women, and children
more respectable and quiet, while everywhere the impress of a woman's
benevolent labors was apparent.
It was the annual custom of a tribe of gypsies to pitch their tents in a
green lane near Plashet, on their way to Fairlop Fair. Once, after the
tents were pitched, a child fell ill; the distracted mother applied to
the kind lady at Plashet House for relief. Mrs. Fry acceded to the
request, and not only ministered to the gypsies that season, but every
succeeding year; until she became known and almost worshipped among
them. Romany wanderers and Celtic colonists were alike welcome to her
heart and purse, and vied in praising her.
About this time the Norwich Auxiliary Bible Society was formed, and Mrs.
Fry went down to Earlham to attend the initial meeting. She tells us
there were present the Bishop of Norwich, six clergymen of the
Established Church, and three dissenting ministers, besides several
leading Quakers and gentlemen of the neighborhood. The number included
Mr. Hughes, one of the secretaries, and Dr. Steinkopf, a Lutheran
minister, who, though as one with the work of the Bible Society, could
not speak English. At some of these meetings she felt prompted to speak,
and did so at a social gathering at Earlham Hall, when all present owned
her remarkable influence upon them. These associations also increased
in her that catholicity of spirit which afterwards seemed so prominent.
Some of her brothers and sisters belonged to the Established Church of
England; while in her walks of mercy she was continually co-operating
with members of other sections of Christians. As we have seen, she
worked harmoniously with all: Catholic and Protestant, Churchman and
Dissenter.
On looking at her training for her special form of usefulness we find
that afflictions predominated just when her mind was soaring above the
social and conventional trammels which at one time weighed so much with
her. We know her mostly as a prison philanthropist; but while following
her career in that path, it will be wise not to forget the way in which
she was led. By slow and painful degrees she was drawn away from the
circles of fashion in which once her soul delighted. Then her nature
seemed so retiring, and the tone of her piety so mystical, while she
dreaded nervously all approach to "religious enthusiasm," that a career
of publicity, either in prisons, among rulers, or among the ministers of
her own Society, seemed too far away to be ever realized in fact and
deed. Only He, who weighs thoughts and searches out spirits, knew or
understood by what slow degrees she rose to the demands which presented
themselves to her "in the ways of His requirings," even if "they led her
into suffering and death." It was no small cross for such a woman thus
to dare singularity and possibly odium.
CHAPTER V.
BEGINNINGS IN NEWGATE.
It is said by some authorities that in her childhood Mrs. Fry expressed
so great a desire to visit a prison that her father at last took her to
see one. Early in 1813 she first visited Newgate, with the view of
ministering to the necessities of the felons; and for all practical
purposes of charity this was really her initial step. The following
entry in her journal relates to a visit paid in February of that year.
"Yesterday we were some hours with the poor female felons, attending to
their outward necessities; we had been twice previously. Before we went
away dear Anna Buxton uttered a few words of supplication, and, very
unexpectedly to myself, I did also. I heard weeping, and I thought they
appeared much tendered (_i.e._ softened); a very solemn quiet was
observed; it was a striking scene, the poor people on their knees around
us in their deplorable condition." This reference makes no mention of
what was really the truth, that some members of the Society of Friends,
who had visited Newgate in January, had so represented the condition of
the prisoners to Mrs. Fry that she determined to set out in this new
path. "In prison, and ye visited me." Little did she dream on what a
distinguished career of philanthropy she was entering.
And Newgate needed some apostle of mercy to reduce the sum of human
misery found there, to something like endurable proportions. We are told
that at that date all the female prisoners were confined in what was
afterwards known as the "untried side" of the jail, while the larger
portion of the quadrangle was utilized as a state-prison. The women's
division consisted of two wards and two cells, containing a superficial
area of about one hundred and ninety yards. Into these apartments, at
the time of Mrs. Fry's visit, above three hundred women were crammed,
innocent and guilty, tried and untried, misdemeanants, and those who
were soon to pay the penalty of their crimes upon the gallows. Besides
all these were to be found numerous children, the offspring of the
wretched women, learning vice and defilement from the very cradle. The
penal laws were so sanguinary that at the commencement of this century
about three hundred crimes were punishable with death. Some of these
offences were very trivial, such as robbing hen-roosts, writing
threatening letters, and stealing property from the person to the
amount of five shillings. There was always a good crop for the gallows:
hanging went merrily on, from assize town to assize town, until one
wonders whether the people were not gallows-hardened. One old man and
his son performed the duties of warders in this filthy, abominable hole
of "justice." And the ragged, wretched crew bemoaned their wretchedness
in vain, for no helping hand was held out to succor. They were
"destitute of sufficient clothing, for which there was no provision; in
rags and dirt, without bedding, they slept on the floor, the boards of
which were in part raised to supply a sort of pillow. In the same rooms
they lived, cooked, and washed. With the proceeds of their clamorous
begging, when any stranger appeared among them, the prisoners purchased
liquors from a tap in the prison. Spirits were openly drunk, and the ear
was assailed by the most terrible language. Beyond the necessity for
safe custody, there was little restraint upon their communication with
the world without. Although military sentinels were posted on the leads
of the prison, such was the lawlessness prevailing, that Mr. Newman, the
governor, entered this portion of it with reluctance."
As Mrs. Fry and the "Anna Buxton" referred to,--who was a sister of Sir
Thomas Fowell Buxton,--were about to enter this modern Inferno, the
Governor of Newgate advised the ladies to leave their watches in his
care lest they should be snatched away by the lawless wretches inside.
But no such hesitating, half-hearted, fearful charity was theirs. They
had come to see for themselves the misery which prevailed, and to dare
all risks; and we do not find that either Mrs. Fry or her companion lost
anything in their progress through the women's wards; watches and all
came away safely, a fresh proof of the power of kindness. The
revelations of the terrible woes of felon-life which met Mrs. Fry
stirred up her soul within her. She emphatically "clothed the naked,"
for she set her family to work at once making green-baize garments for
this purpose until she had provided for all the most destitute.
To remedy this state of things appeared like one of the labors of
Hercules. Few were hopeful of the success of her undertaking, while at
times even her undaunted spirit must have doubted. In John Howard's time
the prisons of England had been distinguished for vice, filth,
brutality, and suffering; and although some little improvement had taken
place, it was almost infinitesimal. Old castles, or gate-houses, with
damp, dark dungeons and narrow cells, were utilized for penal purposes.
It was common to see a box fastened up under one of the narrow,
iron-barred windows overlooking the street, with the inscription, "Pity
the poor prisoners," the alms being intended for their relief and
sustenance. Often the jail was upon a bridge at the entrance of a town,
and the damp of the river added to the otherwise unhealthy condition of
the place. Bunyan spoke, not altogether allegorically, but rather
literally, of the foul "den" in which he passed a good twelve years of
his life. Irons and fetters were used to prevent escape, while those who
could not obtain the means of subsistence from their friends, suffered
the horrors of starvation. Over-crowding, disease, riot, and obscenity
united to render these places very Pandemoniums.
It seemed almost hopeless to deal with ferocious and abandoned women.
One of them was observed, desperate with rage, tearing the caps from the
heads of the other women, and yelling like a savage beast. By so much
nearer as woman is to the angels, must be measured her descent into ruin
when she is degraded. She falls deeper than a man; her degradation is
more complete, her nature more demoralized. Whether Mrs. Fry felt
unequal just then to the task, or whether family affliction pressed too
sorely upon her, we do not know; her journal affords no solution of the
problem, but certain it is that some three years passed by before any
very active steps were taken by her to ameliorate to any decided extent
the misery of the prisoners.
But the matter seethed in her mind; as she mused upon it, the fire
burned, and the spirit which had to burst its conventional trammels and
"take up the cross" in regard to dress and speech, looked out for other
crosses to carry. Doing good became a passion; want, misery, sin and
sorrow furnished claims upon her which she would neither ignore nor
deny.
John Howard had grappled with the hydra before her, and finally
succumbed to his exertions. As the period of his labors lay principally
between the years 1774 and 1790, when the evils against which Mrs. Fry
had to contend were intensified and a hundred times blacker, it cannot
do harm to recall the condition of prisons in England during the last
quarter of the eighteenth century; that is, during the girlhood of
Elizabeth Fry. Possibly some echoes of the marvellous exertions of
Howard in prison reform had reached her Earlham home, and produced,
though unconsciously, an interest in the subject which was destined to
bear fruit at a later period. At any rate, the fact cannot be gainsaid
that she followed in his steps, visiting the Continent in the
prosecution of her self-imposed task, and examining into the most
loathsome recesses of prisons, lunatic asylums, and hospitals.
The penal systems of England had been on their trial; had broken down,
and been found utterly wanting. Modern legislation and philanthropy have
laid it down that _reform_ is the proper end of all punishment; hence
the "silent system," the "separate system," and various employments have
been adopted. Hence, too, arose the framing of a system of education and
instruction under the jail roof, so that on the discharge of prisoners
they might be fitted to earn their own maintenance in that world which
formerly they had cursed with their evil deeds. But it was not so in the
era of John Howard, nor of Elizabeth Fry. Then, justice made short work
with criminals and debtors. The former it hanged in droves, and left the
latter to literally "rot" in prison. Two systems of transportation have
been tried: the one previous to Howard's day succeeded in pouring into
the American plantations the crime and vice of England; whilst the
other, which succeeded him, did the same for Australia. After the breach
between the American colonies and the mother-country, the system of
transportation to the Transatlantic plantations ceased; it was in the
succeeding years that the foul holes called prisons, killed their
thousands, and "jail-fever" its tens of thousands.
Yet, in spite of hanging felons faster than any other nation in Europe,
in spite of killing them off slowly by the miseries of these holes,
crime multiplied more than ever. Gigantic social corruptions festered in
the midst of the nation, until it seemed as if a war which carried off a
few thousands or tens of thousands of the lower classes, were almost a
blessing. Alongside the horrible evils for which Government was
responsible, grew up multitudes of other evils against which it fought,
or over which it exercised a strong and somewhat tyrannical upper-hand.
In society there was a constant war going on between law and crime.
Extirpation--not reform--was the end aimed at; the prison officials of
that time looked upon a criminal as a helpless wretch, presenting fair
game for plunder, torture and tyranny. The records in Howard's journals,
and the annals of Mrs. Fry's labors, amply enlighten us as to the result
of this state of things.
In Bedford jail the dungeons for felons were eleven feet below the
ground, always wet and slimy, and upon these floors the inmates had to
sleep. At Nottingham the jail stood on the side of a hill, while the
dungeons were cut in the solid rock; these dungeons could only be
entered after descending more than thirty steps. At Gloucester there was
but one court for all prisoners, and, while fever was decimating them,
only one day-room. At Salisbury the prisoners were chained together at
Christmas time and sent in couples to beg. In some of the jails, open
sewers ran through corridors and cells, so that the poor inmates had to
fight for their lives with the vermin which nourished there. At Ely the
prison was in such a ruinous condition that the criminals could not be
safely kept; the warders, therefore, had had recourse to chains and
fetters to prevent the escape of those committed to their charge. They
chained prisoners on their backs to the floor, and, not content with
this, secured iron collars round their necks as well as placed heavy
bars across their legs. Small fear of the poor wretches running away
after that! At Exeter the county jail was the private property of a
gentleman, John Denny Rolle, who farmed it out to a keeper, and received
an income of twenty pounds per annum for it. Yet why multiply instances!
In all of them, dirt, cruelty, fever, torture and abuses reigned
unchecked. Prisoners had no regular allowance of food, but depended on
their means, family, or charity; the prisons were farmed by their
keepers, some of whom were women, but degraded and cruel; many innocent
prisoners were slowly rotting to death, because of their inability to
pay the heavy fees exacted by their keepers; while the sleeping-rooms
were so crowded at times, that it was impossible for the prisoners to
lie down all together for sheer lack of space. Torture was prohibited by
the law of England, but many inhuman keepers used thumb-screws and iron
caps with obnoxious prisoners, for the amusement of themselves and their
boon companions. Several cases of this kind are recorded.
So hideous an outcry arose against these horrors, that at last
Parliament interfered, and passed two bills dealing with prisoners and
their treatment. The first of these provided that when a prisoner was
discharged for want of prosecution he should be immediately set free,
without being called upon to defray any fees claimed by the jailer or
sheriff; while the second bill authorized justices of the peace to see
to the maintenance of cleanliness in the prisons. The first set at
liberty hundreds of innocent persons who were still bound because they
could not meet the ruinous fees demanded from them; while the second
undoubtedly saved the lives of hundreds more. These were instalments of
reform.
Thus it will easily be understood that whatever the condition of
Newgate and other English prisons was, at the date of Mrs. Fry's labors,
they were far better than in previous years. Some attempts had been made
to render these pest-houses less horrible; but for lack of wise,
intelligent management, and occupation for the prisoners, the wards
still presented pictures of Pandemonium. It needed a second reformer to
take up the work where Howard left it, and to labor on behalf of the
convicts; for in too many cases they were looked upon as possessing
neither right nor place on God's earth. In the olden days, some judges
had publicly declared their preference for hanging, because the criminal
would then trouble neither State nor society any further. But in spite
of Tyburn horrors, each week society furnished fresh wretches for the
gallows; whilst those who were in custody were almost regarded as
"fore-doomed and fore-damned."
During the interval which elapsed between Mrs. Fry's short visits to
Newgate in 1813, and the resumption of those visits in 1817, together
with the inauguration of her special work among the convicts, she was
placed in the crucible of trial. Death claimed several relatives; she
suffered long-continued illness, and experienced considerable losses of
property. All these things refined the gold of her character and
discovered its sterling worth. Some natures grow hard and sullen under
trial, others faithless and desponding, and yet others narrow and
reserved. But the genuine gold of a noble disposition comes out brighter
and purer because of untoward events; unsuspected resources are
developed, and the higher nobility becomes discernable. So it was with
Elizabeth Fry. The constitutional timidity of her nature vanished before
the overpowering sense of duty; and literally she looked not at the
seen, but at the unseen, in her calculations of Christian service. Yet
another part of her discipline was the ingratitude with which many of
her efforts were met. This experience is common to all who labor for the
public weal; and from an entry in her journal we can but conclude that
this "serpent's tooth" pierced her very sorely at times. "A constant
lesson to myself is the ingratitude and discontent which I see in many."
Many a reformer could echo these words. But the abiding trial seemed to
be the remembrance of the loss of her little daughter, Elizabeth, who
passed away after a week of suffering, and who was laid to rest in
Barking churchyard. The memory of this five-year old child remained with
her for many years a pure and holy influence, doubtless prompting her
to deal tenderly with the young strayed ones whom she met in her errands
of mercy. How often the memory of "the touch of a vanished hand, and the
sound of a voice that is still," influences our intercourse with the
living, so that while benefiting them we do it as unto and for the dead.
CHAPTER VI.
NEWGATE HORRORS AND NEWGATE WORKERS.
About Christmas 1816, or January 1817, Mrs. Fry commenced her leviathan
task in good earnest. The world had been full of startling events since
her first two or three tentative visits to Newgate; so startling were
they, that even in the refined and sedate quietude of Quakerism there
must have existed intense interest, excitement, and possibly fear. We
know from Isaac Taylor's prolific pen, how absorbing was the idea of
invasion by the French, how real a terror was Bonaparte, and how full of
menace the political horizon appeared. Empires were rising and falling,
wars and tumults were the normal condition of society; the Continent was
in a state of agitation and warfare. Napoleon, the prisoner of Elba, had
returned to Europe, collected an army, and, contesting at Waterloo the
strength of England and Prussia, had fallen. He was now watched and
guarded at St. Helena, while the civilized world began to breathe
freely. The mushroom kingdoms which he had set up were fast tottering,
or had fallen, while the older dynasties of Europe were feeling once
more secure, because the man who hesitated not to sacrifice vast myriads
of human lives to accomplish his own aggrandizement, was now bound, and,
like a tiger in chains, could do nought save growl impotently.
Meanwhile the tide of prison-life went on, without much variation.
Newgate horrors still continued; the gallows-crop never failed; and the
few Acts of Parliament designed to ameliorate the condition of the
prisoners in the jails had almost become dead letters. In 1815 a
deputation of the Jail Committee of the Corporation of London visited
several jails in order to examine into their condition, and to introduce
a little improvement, if possible, into those under their care. This
step led to some alterations; the sexes were separated, and the women
were provided with mats to sleep upon. Visitors were restrained from
having much communication with the prisoners, a double row of gratings
being placed between the criminals and those who came to see them.
Across the space between the gratings it was a common practice for the
prisoners to push wooden spoons, fastened to long sticks, in order to
receive the contributions of friends. Disgusting in its ways, vicious in
act and speech, the social scum which crowded Newgate was repulsive,
dangerous, and vile in the extreme.
It is evident that the circle to which Mrs. Fry belonged was still
interested in philanthropic labors on behalf of the criminal classes,
because we find that Sir Thomas F. Buxton, Mr. Hoare, and several other
friends were busy, in the interval between 1813 and 1816, in
establishing a society for the reformation of juvenile thieves. This
matter of prison discipline was therefore engaging the attention of her
immediate circle. Doubtless, while listening to them, she remembered
most anxiously the miserable women whom she had visited some three years
previously.
It seems that Mrs. Fry succeeded with the women by means of her care for
the children. Low as they were in sin, every spark of maternal affection
had not fled, and they craved for their little ones a better chance than
they had possessed themselves. To a suggestion by Mrs. Fry that a school
should be formed for the benefit of their little ones they eagerly
acceded. This suggestion she left with them for consideration, engaging
to come to a decision at the next visit.
At the next visit she found that the tears of joy with which they had
welcomed the proposition were not feigned. The women had already chosen
a school-mistress from among themselves. A young woman, named Mary
Cormer, who had, although fairly educated, found her way to prison for
stealing a watch, was the person chosen. It is recorded of this young
woman that she became reformed during her stay in Newgate, and so
exemplary did she behave in the character of teacher, that Government
granted her a free pardon; which, however, she did not live long to
enjoy.
It is pleasant to record that the officials aided and furthered this
good work. An empty cell was granted for the school-room, and was
quickly crammed with the youngest of the criminals. After this step had
been taken, a young Friend named Mary Sanderson made her appearance at
Newgate to assist, if it were possible, in the work, but was almost
terrified away again. She informed Sir Thomas Fowell Buxton of her
experiences and terrors at her first encounter with the women: "The
railing was crowded with half-naked women, struggling together for the
front situations with the most boisterous violence, and begging with the
utmost vociferation." She felt as if she were going into a den of wild
beasts, and she well recollects quite shuddering when the door was
closed upon her, and she was locked in with such a herd of novel and
desperate companions.
Could lasting good be effected there? It seemed hopeless. Indeed, at
first it was scarcely dreamt of; but, the stone once set rolling, none
knew where it would stop. Marvellous to say, some of the prisoners
themselves asked for ministrations of this sort. Feeling that they were
as low down in the mire as they could be, they craved a helping hand;
indeed, entreated not to be left out from the benevolent operations
which Mrs. Fry now commenced. The officers of Newgate despaired of any
good result; the people who associated with Mrs. Fry, charitable as they
were, viewed her plans as Utopian and visionary, while she herself
almost quailed at their very contemplation. It also placed a great
strain upon her nervous system to attend women condemned to death. She
wrote: "I have suffered much about the hanging of criminals." And again:
"I have just returned from a melancholy visit to Newgate, where I have
been at the request of Elizabeth Fricker, previous to her execution
to-morrow at 8 o'clock. I found her much hurried, distressed and
tormented in mind. Her hands were cold, and covered with something like
the perspiration which precedes death, and in an universal tremor. The
women who were with her said she had been so outrageous before our
going, that they thought a man must be sent for to manage her. However,
after a serious time with her, her troubled soul became calmed." Another
entry in the same journal casts a lurid light upon the interior of
Newgate. "Besides this poor young woman, there are also six men to be
hanged, one of whom has a wife near her confinement, also condemned, and
seven young children. Since the awful report came down he has become
quite mad from horror of mind. A straight waistcoat could not keep him
within bounds; he had just bitten the turnkey; I saw the man come out
with his hand bleeding as I passed the cell. I hear that another who has
been tolerably educated and brought up, was doing all he could to harden
himself through unbelief, trying to convince himself that religious
truths were idle tales." Contemporary light is cast upon this matter by
a letter which the Hon. G.H. Bennett addressed to the Corporation of
London, relative to the condition of the prison. In it this writer
observed:--
A man by the name of Kelly, who was executed some weeks back for
robbing a house, counteracted, by his conversation and by the jests
he made of all religious subjects, the labors of Dr. Cotton to
produce repentance and remorse among the prisoners in the cells;
and he died as he lived, hardened and unrepenting. He sent to me
the day before his execution, and when I saw him _he maintained the
innocence of the woman convicted with him_ (Fricker, before
mentioned), asserting that not her, but a boy concealed, opened
the door and let him into the house. When I pressed him to tell me
the names of the parties concerned, whereby to save the woman's
life, he declined complying without promise of a pardon. I urged as
strongly as I could the crime of suffering an innocent woman to be
executed to screen criminal accomplices; but it was all to no
effect, and he suffered, maintaining to the last the same story.
With him was executed a lad of nineteen or twenty years of age,
whose fears and remorse Kelly was constantly ridiculing.
About this time, Mrs. Fry noted in her journal the encouragement she had
received from those who were in authority, as well as the eager and
thankful attitude of the poor women themselves. Kindred spirits were
being drawn around her, ready to participate in her labors of love. In
one place she wrote almost deprecatingly of the publicity which those
labors had won; she feared notoriety, and would, had it been possible,
have worked on alone and unheralded. But perhaps it was as well that
others should learn to coöperate; the task was far too mighty for one
frail pair of hands, while the increased knowledge and interest among
the upper classes of society assisted in procuring the "sinews of war."
For this was a work which could not be successfully carried on without
pounds, shillings and pence. Clothing, books, teachers, and even
officers had to be paid for out of benevolent funds, for not an idea of
the necessity for such funds had ever crossed the civic mind.
A very cheering item, in April, 1817, was the formation of a ladies'
society under the title of "An Association for the Improvement of the
Female Prisoners in Newgate." Eleven Quakeresses and one clergyman's
wife were then banded together. We cannot find the names of these good
women recorded anywhere in Mrs. Fry's journal. The object of this
association was: "To provide for the clothing, instruction, and
employment of the women; to introduce them to a knowledge of the
Scriptures, and to form in them, as much as possible, those habits of
sobriety, order and industry, which may render them docile and peaceable
whilst in prison, and respectable when they leave it." Thus, stone by
stone the edifice was being reared, step by step was gained, and
everything was steadily advancing towards success. The magistrates and
corporation of the city were favorable, and even hopeful; the jail
officials were not unwilling to coöperate, and ladies were anxious to
take up the work. The last thing which remained was to get the assent
and willing submission of the prisoners themselves to the rules which
_must_ be enforced, were any lasting benefit to be conferred; and to
this last step Mrs. Fry was equal.
On a Sunday afternoon, quickly following the formation of the
association, a new and strange meeting was convened inside the old
prison walls. There were present the sheriffs, the ordinary, the
governor, the ladies and the women. Doubtless they looked at each other
with a mixture of wonder, incredulity, and surprise. The gloomy
precincts of Newgate had never witnessed such a spectacle before; the
Samaritans of the great city no longer "passed by on the other side,"
but, at last, had come to grapple with its vice and degradation.
Mrs. Fry read out several rules by which she desired the women to abide;
explaining to them the necessity for their adherence to these rules, and
the extent to which she invited coöperation and assistance in their
enforcement. Unanimously and willingly the prisoners engaged to be bound
by them, as well as to assist each other in obedience. It will interest
the reader to know what these rules were. They were:--
1. That a woman be appointed for the general supervision of the women.
2. That the women be engaged in needlework, knitting, or any other
suitable employment.
3. That there be no begging, swearing, gaming, card-playing,
quarrelling, or universal conversation. That all novels, plays, and
other improper books be excluded; that all bad words be avoided, and
any default in these particulars be reported to the matron.
4. That there be a good yard-keeper, chosen from among the women, to
inform them when their friends come; to see that they leave their work
with a monitor when they go to the grating, and that they do not spend
any time there except with their friends. If any woman be found
disobedient in these respects, the yard-keeper is to report the case to
the matron.
5. That the women be divided into classes of not more than twelve, and
that a monitor be appointed to each class.
6. That the monitors be chosen from among the most orderly of the women
that can read, to superintend the work and conduct of the others.
7. That the monitors not only overlook the women in their own classes,
but, if they observe any others disobeying the rules, that they inform
the monitor of the class to which such persons may belong, who is
immediately to report them to the matron, and the deviations be set down
on a slate.
8. That any monitor breaking the rules shall be dismissed from her
office, and the most suitable in the class selected to take her place.
9. That the monitors be particularly careful to see that women come
with clean hands and faces to their work, and that they are quiet during
their employment.
10. That at the ringing of the bell at nine o'clock in the morning, the
women collect in the work-room to hear a portion of Scripture read by
one of the visitors, or the matron; and that the monitors afterwards
conduct the classes thence to their respective wards in an orderly
manner.
11. That the women be again collected for reading at 6 o'clock in the
evening, when the work shall be given in charge to the matron by the
monitors.
12. That the matron keep an exact account of the work done by the women,
and of their conduct.
As these rules were read out, the women were requested to raise their
hands in token of assent. Not a hand but was held up. In just the same
manner the names of the monitors were received, and the appointments
ratified. After this business had been concluded, one of the visitors
read the twenty-first chapter of St. Matthew's Gospel; and then ensued a
period of solemn silence, according to the custom of the Society of
Friends. After that the newly-elected monitors, at the heads of their
classes, withdrew to their wards.
The work room was an old disused laundry, now granted by the sheriffs,
and fitted up for the purpose. Repaired and whitewashed, it proved a
capital vantage-ground whereon to give battle to the old giants of
Ignorance, Crime and Vice, and ultimately to conquer them.
The next thing was to obtain a sufficiency of work, and at the same time
funds to purchase materials. At first, the most imperative necessity
existed for clothing. For a long time the most ample help came from Mrs.
Fry's own family circle, although many others contributed various sums.
Indeed, the Sheriffs of London on one occasion made a grant of £80
towards these objects, showing thus that, although punitive measures
were more in their way, they were really glad to uphold the hands of
anybody who would deal with the vexed problems which such hordes of
criminals presented.
After the criminals themselves were clothed, their work went to provide
garments for the convicts at Botany Bay. Some tradesmen to whom Mrs. Fry
applied, willingly resigned these branches of their trade, in order to
afford the opportunity of turning the women's industry to account. This
was a decided step gained, as the Corporation then learnt how to make
the prisoners' labors profitable, and at the same time to avert the
mischiefs of vicious idleness.
The ladies tried the school for a month quietly, and found it so
successful that they determined to lay a representation before the
Sheriffs, asking that this newly-formed agency should be taken under the
wing of the Corporation. They wisely considered that the efficiency and
continuance of this part of their scheme would be better ensured if it
were made part and parcel of the City prison system, than by leaving it
to the fluctuating support and management of private benevolence.
In reply to this petition and representation, an answer was received
appointing a meeting with the ladies at Newgate. The meeting took place,
and a session was held according to the usual rules. The visiting
officials were struck with surprise at the altered demeanor of the
inhabitants of this hitherto styled "hell upon earth," and were ready to
grant what Mrs. Fry chose to ask. The whole plan, both school and
manufactory, was adopted as part of the prison system; a cell was
granted to the ladies for punishment of refractory prisoners, together
with power to confine them therein for short intervals; part of the
matron's salary was promised out of the City funds, and benedictions and
praises were lavished on the ladies. This assistance in the matter of a
matron was a decided help, as, prior to her appointment, some of the
ladies spent much of each day in the wards personally superintending
operations. So determined were they to win success, that they even
remained during meal times, eating a little refreshment which they
brought with them. After this appointment, one or two ladies visited the
prison for some time, daily, spending more or less time there in order
to superintend and direct. Some months after this a system of work was
devised for the "untried side," but for various reasons, the success in
that department of Newgate was not as marked. It was found that as long
as prisoners indulged any hope of discharge, they were more careless
about learning industrious and orderly habits.
At this meeting with the civic authorities, Mrs. Fry offered several
suggestions calculated to promote the well-being of the prisoners,
sedately and gently explaining the reasons for the necessity of each.
They ran thus:--
"1. Newgate in great want of room. Women to be under the care of women,
matron, turnkeys, and inspecting committee.
"2. As little communication with their friends as possible; only at
stated times, except in very particular cases.
"3. They must depend on their friends for neither food nor clothing, but
have a sufficiency allowed them of both.
"4. That employment should be a part of their punishment, and be
provided for them by Government. The earnings of work to be partly laid
by, partly laid out in small extra indulgences, and, if enough, part to
go towards their support.
"5. To work and have their meals together, but sleep separate at night,
being classed, with monitors at the head of each class.
"Religious instruction. The kind attention we have had paid us.
"Great disadvantages arise from dependence upon the uncertainty and
fluctuations of the Sheriff's funds; neither soap nor clothing being
allowed without its aid, and the occasional help of charitable people."
Two extracts from the civic records prove how warmly the authorities
received these suggestions, and in what esteem they held Mrs. Fry and
her coadjutors.
SATURDAY, May 3, 1817.
Committee of Aldermen to consider all matters relating to the jails
of this city.
Present--The Right Hon. the Lord Mayor, the Sheriffs, and several
Aldermen.
The Committee met agreeably to the resolutions of the 29th ult. at
the Keeper's House, Newgate, and proceeded from thence, attended by
the Sheriffs, to take a view of the jail at Newgate.
The Committee, on viewing that part of it appropriated to the
female prisoners, were attended by Mrs. Elizabeth Fry and several
other ladies, who explained to the Committee the steps they had
adopted to induce the female prisoners to work and to behave
themselves in a becoming and orderly manner; and several specimens
of their work being inspected, the Committee were highly gratified.
At another place is the following entry. After giving date of meeting,
and names of committee present, the minute goes on to say:--
The Committee met at the Mansion House and were attended by Mrs.
Elizabeth Fry and two other ladies, who were heard in respect of
their suggestions for the better government of the female prisoners
in Newgate.
Resolved unanimously: "That the thanks of this Committee be given
to Mrs. Fry and the other ladies who have so kindly exerted
themselves with a view to bettering the condition of the women
confined in the jail in Newgate, and that they be requested to
continue their exertions, which have hitherto been attended with
good effect."
Mrs. Fry's journals contain very few particulars relating to her work at
this precise time. It seemed most agreeable to her to work quietly and
unknown as far as the outside public was concerned. But a lady-worker
who was in the Association has left on record a manuscript journal from
which some extracts may fitly be given here, as they cast valuable light
on both the work and workers.
We proceeded to the felons' door, the steps of which were covered
with their friends, who were waiting for admission, laden with the
various provisions and other articles which they required, either
as gifts, or to be purchased, as the prisoners might be able to
afford. We entered with this crowd of persons into an ante-room,
the walls of which were covered with the chains and fetters
suspended in readiness for the criminals. A block and hammer were
placed in the centre of it, on which chains were riveted. The room
was guarded with blunderbusses mounted on movable carriages. I
trembled, and was sick, and my heart sunk within me, when a
prisoner was brought forward to have his chain lightened, because
he had an inflammation in the ankle. I spoke to him, for he looked
dejected and by no means ferocious. The turnkey soon opened the
first gate of entrance, through which we were permitted to pass
without being searched, in consequence of orders issued by the
sheriffs. The crowd waited till the men had been searched by the
turnkeys, and the women by a woman stationed for that purpose in
the little room by the door of the entrance. These searchers are
allowed, if they suspect spirits, or ropes, or instruments of
escape to be concealed about the person, to strip them to ascertain
the fact. A melancholy detection took place a few days ago. A poor
woman had a rope found upon her, concealed for the purpose of
liberating her husband, who was then sentenced to death for highway
robbery, which sentence was to be put into execution in a few days.
She was, of course, taken before a magistrate, and ordered into
Newgate to await her trial. She was a young and pretty little Irish
woman, with an infant in her arms. After passing the first floor
into a passage, we arrived at the place where the prisoners'
friends communicate with them. It may justly be termed a sort of
iron cage. A considerable space remains between the grating, too
wide to admit of their shaking hands. They pass into this from the
airing-yard, which occupies the centre of the quadrangle round
which the building runs, and into which no persons but the visiting
ladies, or the persons they introduce, attended by a turnkey, are
allowed to enter. A little lodge, in which an under turnkey sleeps,
is also considered necessary to render the entrance secure. This
yard was clean, and up and down it paraded an emaciated woman, who
gave notice to the women of the arrival of their friends. Most of
the prisoners were collected in a room newly appropriated for the
purpose of hearing a portion of the Sacred Scriptures read to them,
either by the matron or by one of the ladies' committee--which last
is far preferable. They assemble when the bell rings, as near nine
o'clock as possible, following their monitors or wardswomen to the
forms which are placed in order to receive them. I think I can
never forget the impression made upon my feelings at this sight.
Women from every part of Great Britain, of every age and condition
below the lower middle rank, were assembled in mute silence, except
when the interrupted breathing of their sucking infants informed us
of the unhealthy state of these innocent partakers in their
parents' punishments. The matron read; I could not refrain from
tears. The women wept also; several were under the sentence of
death. Swain, who had just received her respite, sat next me; and
on my left hand sat Lawrence, _alias_ Woodman, surrounded by her
four children, and only waiting the birth of another, which she
hourly expects, to pay the forfeit of her life, as her husband has
done for the same crime a short time before.
Such various, such acute, and such new feelings passed through my
mind that I could hardly support the reflection that what I saw was
only to be compared to an atom in the abyss of vice, and
consequently misery, of this vast metropolis. The hope of doing the
least lasting good seemed to vanish, and to leave me in fearful
apathy. The prisoners left the room in order. Each monitor took
charge of the work in her class on retiring. We proceeded to other
wards, some containing forgers, coiners, and thieves; and almost
all these vices were engrafted on the most deplorable root of
sinful dissipation. Many of the women are married; their families
are in some instances permitted to be with them, if very young;
their husbands, the partners of their crimes, are often found to be
on the men's side of the prison, or on their way to Botany Bay....
They appear to be aware of the true value of character, to know
what is right, and to forsake it in action. Finding these feelings
yet alive, if properly purified and directed it may become a
foundation on which a degree of reformation can be built. Thus they
conduct themselves more calmly and decently to each other, they are
more orderly and quiet, refrain from bad language, chew tobacco
more cautiously, surrender the use of the fireplace, permit doors
and windows to be opened and shut to air or warm the prison,
reprove their children with less violence, borrow and lend useful
articles to each other kindly, put on their attire with modesty,
and abstain from slanderous and reproachful words.
None among them was so shocking as an old woman, a clipper of the
coin of the realm, whose daughter was by her side, with her infant
in her arms, which infant had been born in Bridewell; the
grandfather was already transported with several branches of his
family, as being coiners. The old woman's face was full of
depravity. We next crossed the airing-yard, where many persons were
industriously engaged at slop-work, for which they are paid, and
after receiving what they require, the rest is kept for them by the
Committee, who have a receipt-book, where their earning and their
expenditure may be seen at any time, by the day or week. On
entering the untried wards we found the women very different from
those we had just left. They were quarrelling and very disorderly,
neither knowing their future fate, nor anything like subordination
among one another. It resembles the state of the women on the tried
side before the formation of the Visitors' Association. Not a hand
was employed, except in mischief. One bold creature was ushered in
for committing highway robbery. Many convicts were arriving, just
remanded from the Sessions House, and their dark associates
received them with applause--such is the unhallowed friendship of
sin. We left this revolting scene and proceeded to the school-room,
situated on the untried side of the prison for want of room on the
tried. The quiet decency of this apartment was quite a relief, for
about twenty young women arose on our entrance, and stood with
their eyes cast on the ground.
Another extract from the diary of this lady will be found to describe,
in graphic terms, the visit to the prison recorded in the Corporation
minutes. As one reads the simple and truth-like story, the scene rises
before the mind's eye:--the party of gentlemen upon their semi-official
visit; the awe-stricken prisoners, scarcely comprehending whether this
visit boded ill or well to them; and the little company of quiet, godly,
unfashionable Quaker ladies, who were thus "laying hands" upon the lost
of their sex, in order to reclaim them. Such a picture might well be
transferred to canvas.
Rose early and visited Newgate, where most of the Committee met to
receive the Lord Mayor, the Sheriffs, several Aldermen, and some of
the Jail Committee. Even the irritable state of city politics does
not interfere with this attempt at improvement. The women were
assembled as usual, looking particularly clean, and Elizabeth Fry
had commenced reading a Psalm, when the whole of this party entered
this already crowded room. Her reading was thus interrupted for a
short time. She looked calmly on the approaching gentlemen, who,
soon perceiving the solemnity of her occupation, stood still midst
the multitude, whilst Elizabeth Fry resumed her office and the
women their quietude. In an impressive tone she told them she never
permitted any trifling circumstance to interrupt the very solemn
and important engagement of reading the Holy Scriptures; but in
this instance it appeared unavoidable from the unexpected entrance
of so many persons, besides which, when opportunity offers, we
should pay respect to those in authority over us, to those who
administer justice. She thus, with a Christian prudence peculiar to
herself, controlled the whole assembly, and subdued the feelings of
the prisoners, many of whom were but two well acquainted with the
faces of the magistrates, who were themselves touched and
astonished at being thus introduced to a state of decorum so new
within these walls, and could not help acknowledging how admirably
this mode of treatment was adapted to overcome the evil spirit
which had so long triumphed there. The usual silence ensued after
the reading, then the women withdrew. We could not help feeling
particularly glad that the gentlemen were present at the reading.
The prisoners crowded around the Lord Mayor and Sheriffs to beg
little favors. We had a long conference with these gentlemen
relative to this prison and its object, and to the wisest
regulations for prison discipline, and the causes of crime.
Indeed, we could not have received more kind and devoted attention
to what was suggested. Elizabeth Fry's manner seemed to awaken new
trains of reflection, and to place the individual value of these
poor creatures before them in a fresh point of view. The Sheriffs
came to our committee-room. They ordered a cell to be given up to
the Committee for the temporary confinement of delinquents; it was
to be made to appear as formidable as possible, and we hope never
to require it.
The soldiers who guarded Newgate were, at our own request,
dismissed. They overlooked the women's wards, and rendered them
very disorderly.... I found poor Woodman lying-in in the common
ward, where she had been suddenly taken ill; herself and little
girl were each doing very well. She was awaiting her execution at
the end of the month. What can be said of such sights as these?...
I read to Woodman, who is not in the state of mind we could wish
for her; indeed, so unnatural is her situation that one can hardly
tell how, or in what manner, to meet her case. She seems afraid to
love her baby, and the very health which is being restored to her
produces irritation of mind.
This last entry furnishes, incidentally, proof of the barbarity of the
laws of Christian England at that time. Human life was of no account
compared with the robbery of a few shillings, or the cutting down of a
tree. This matter of capital punishment, in its turn, attracted the
attention of the Quaker community, together with other philanthropic
individuals, and the statute book was in time freed from many of the
sanguinary enactments which had, prior to that period, disgraced it.
By this time notoriety began to attend Mrs. Fry's labors, and she was
complimented and stared at according to the world's most approved
fashion. The newspapers noticed her work; the people at Court talked
about it; and London citizens began to realize that in this quiet
Quakeress there dwelt a power for good. Given an unusual method of doing
good, noticed by the high in place and power, together with praise or
criticism by the papers, and, like Lord Byron, the worker wakes some
morning to find himself or herself famous. But growing fame did not
agree with Elizabeth Fry's moral or spiritual nature. She possessed far
too noble a soul to be pleased with it; her responsibility and her
success, except so far as they affected the waifs she desired to bless,
were matters for her own conscience, and her God. She mentioned in her
journal her fears whether or not this publicity, and the evident respect
paid her by the people in power in the city, might not develop worldly
pride of self-exaltation in her. Highly-toned and pure as her spirit
was, it shrank from any strain of self-seeking or pride. Only such a
spirit could have conceived such a work of usefulness; only such an one
could endure the inevitable repulsion which attends such work among the
degraded, and conquer.
CHAPTER VII.
EVIDENCE BEFORE THE HOUSE OF COMMONS.
Public attention was so far aroused on the subject of prison discipline,
and the condition of criminals, that a Committee of the House of Commons
was appointed to examine into evidence respecting the prisons of the
metropolis. On the 27th of February, 1818, Mrs. Fry was examined by this
Committee, relative to her personal experiences of this work, and her
own labors in connection with it. The clear, calm statements made by her
before this Committee cast considerable light upon her doings, and the
principles upon which she acted. There is no exaggeration, no
braggadocio, no flourish of philanthropy,--simply a straightforward
story of quiet but persistent endeavors to lessen the human misery
within the walls of the prison at Newgate; for, hitherto, her efforts
had been confined to that jail.
"_Query_. You applied to the Committee of the Court of Aldermen?"
"_Ans_. Not at first; I thought it better to try the experiment for a
month, and then to ask them whether they would second us, and adopt our
measures as their own; we, therefore, assembled our women, read over our
rules, brought them work, knitting, and other things, and our
institution commenced; it has now been about ten months. Our rules have
certainly been occasionally broken, but very seldom; order has generally
been observed. I think I may say we have full power among them, for one
of them said it was more terrible to be brought up before me than before
the judge, though we use nothing but kindness. I have never punished a
woman during the whole time, or even proposed a punishment to them; and
yet I think it is impossible in a well-ordered house to have rules more
strictly attended to than they are, as far as I order them, or our
friends in general. With regard to our work, they have made nearly
twenty thousand articles of wearing apparel, the generality of which is
supplied by the slop-shops, which pay very little. Excepting three out
of this number that were missing, which we really do not think owing to
the women, we have never lost a single article. They knit from about
sixty to a hundred pairs of stockings and socks every month; they spin a
little. The earnings of work, we think, average about eighteenpence per
week for each person. This is generally spent in assisting them to live,
and helps to clothe them. For this purpose they subscribe out of their
small earnings of work about four pounds a month, and we subscribe about
eight, which keeps them covered and decent. Another very important point
is the excellent effects we have found to result from religious
education; our habit is constantly to read the Scriptures to them twice
a day. Many of them are taught, and some of them have been enabled to
read a little themselves; it has had an astonishing effect. I never saw
the Scriptures received in the same way, and to many of them they have
been entirely new, both the great system of religion and morality
contained in them; and it has been very satisfactory to observe the
effect upon their minds. When I have sometimes gone and said it was my
intention to read, they would flock up-stairs after me, as if it were a
great pleasure I had to afford them."
"You have confined yourself to reading the Scriptures, and pointing out
generally the moral lessons that might be derived from them?"
"Yes, generally so."
"Without inculcating any particular doctrine?"
"Nothing but the general Scripture doctrine; in short, they are not
capable of receiving any other."
"Nothing but the morals of the Scripture,--the duties towards God and
man?"
"That is all; we are very particular in endeavoring to keep close to
that. We consider, from the situation we fill, as it respects the
public, as well as the poor creatures themselves, that it would be
highly indecorous to press any particular doctrine of any kind, anything
beyond the fundamental doctrines of Scripture. We have had considerable
satisfaction in observing, not only the improved state of the women in
the prison, but we understand from the governor and clergyman at the
penitentiary, that those who have been under our care are very different
from those who come from other prisons. We also may state that when they
left Newgate to go to Botany Bay, such a thing was never known in the
prison before as the quietness and order with which they left it;
instead of tearing down everything, and burning it, it was impossible to
leave it more peaceably. And as a proof that their moral and religious
instruction have had some effect upon their minds, when those poor
creatures were going to Botany Bay, the little fund we allowed them to
collect for themselves, in a small box under our care, they entreated
might all be given to those that were going, those who remained saying
that they wished to give up their little share of the profit to the
others."
"Do you know anything of the room and accommodation for the women in
1815?"
"I do not; I did not visit it in that year."
"What was it in 1817?"
"Not nearly room enough. If we had room enough to class them, I think a
very great deal more might be accomplished. We labor very much in the
day, and we see the fruit of our labor: but if we could separate them in
the night, I do think that we could not calculate upon the effect which
would be produced."
"At present, those convicted for all offenses pass the day together?"
"Very much so; very much intermixed, old and young, hardened offenders
with those who have committed only a minor crime, or the first crime;
the very lowest of women with respectable married women and
maid-servants. It is more injurious than can be described, in its
effects and in its consequences. One little instance to prove how
beneficial it is to take care of the prisoners, is afforded by the case
of a poor woman, for whom we have obtained pardon (Lord Sidmouth having
been very kind to us whenever we have applied for the mitigation of
punishment since our committee has been formed). We taught her to knit
in the prison; she is now living respectably out of it, and in part
gains her livelihood by knitting. We generally endeavor to provide for
them in degree when they go out. One poor woman to whom we lent money,
comes every week to my house, and pays two shillings, as honestly and as
punctually as we could desire. We give part, and lend part, to accustom
them to habits of punctuality and honesty."
"Is that woman still in Newgate, whose husband was executed, and she
herself condemned to death, having eight children?"
"She is."
"Has not her character been very materially changed since she has been
under your care?"
"I heard her state to a gentleman going through the other day, that it
had been a very great blessing to her at Newgate, and I think there has
been a very great change in her. Her case is now before Lord Sidmouth,
but we could hardly ask for her immediate liberation."
"What reward, or hope of reward, do you hold out?"
"Rewards form one part of our plan. They not only have the earning of
their work, but we endeavor to stimulate them by a system of marks. We
divide our women into classes, with a monitor over every class, and our
matron at the head. It is the duty of every monitor to take up to the
matron every night an account of the conduct of her class, which is set
down; and if they have a certain number of what we call good marks at
the end of any fixed period, they have for rewards such prizes as we
think proper to give them--generally small articles of clothing, or
Bibles and Testaments."
"Be so good as to state, as nearly as you can, what proportion of the
women, without your assistance, would be in a state of extreme want?"
"It is difficult to say; but I think we average the number of eighty
tried women. Perhaps out of that number twenty may live very well,
twenty very badly, and the others are supported by their friends in some
degree. When I say twenty who live very well, I mention, perhaps, too
large a number--perhaps not above ten. I think their receiving support
from out-of-doors is most injurious, as it respects their moral
principles, and everything else, as it respects the welfare of the city.
There are some very poor people who will almost starve at home, and be
induced to do that which is wrong, in order to keep their poor relations
who are in prison. It is an unfair tax on such people; in addition to
which, it keeps up an evil communication, and, what is more, I believe
they often really encourage the crime by it for which they are put into
prison; for these very people, and especially the coiners and passers of
bank-notes, are supported by their associates in crime, so that it
really tends to keep up their bad practices."
"Do you know whether there is any clothing allowed by the city?"
"Not any. Whenever we have applied or mentioned anything about clothing,
we have always found that there was no other resource but our own,
excepting that the sheriffs used to clothe the prisoners occasionally.
Lately, nobody has clothed them but ourselves; except that the late
sheriffs sent us the other day a present of a few things to make up for
them."
"There is no regular clothing allowed?"
"It appears to me that there is none of any kind."
"Have you never had prisoners there who have suffered materially for
want of clothing?"
"I could describe such scenes as I should hardly think it delicate to
mention. We had a woman the other day, on the point of lying-in, brought
to bed not many hours after she came in. She had hardly a covering; no
stockings, and only a thin gown. Whilst we are there, we can never see a
woman in that state without immediately applying to our fund."
"When they come in they come naked, almost?"
"Yes, this woman came in, and we had to send her up almost every
article of clothing, and to clothe her baby. She could not be tried the
next sessions, but after she had been tried, and when she was
discharged, she went out comfortably clothed; and there are many such
instances."
"Has it not happened that when gentlemen have come in to see the prison,
you have been obliged to stand before the women who were in the prison
in a condition not fit to be seen?"
"Yes, I remember one instance in which I was obliged to stand before one
of the women to prevent her being seen. We sent down to the matron
immediately to get her clothes."
"How long had the woman been in jail?"
"Not long; for we do not, since we have been there, suffer them to be a
day without being clothed?"
"What is the average space allowed to each woman to lie upon, taking the
average number in the prison?"
"I cannot be accurate, not having measured; from eighteen inches to two
feet, I should think."
"By six feet?"
"Yes. I believe the moral discipline of a prison can never be complete
while they are allowed to sleep together in one room. If I may be
allowed to state it, I should prefer a prison where women were allowed
to work together in companies, under proper superintendence; to have
their meals together, and their recreation also; but I would always have
them separated in the night. I believe it would conduce to the health
both of body and mind. Their being in companies during the day, tends,
under proper regulations, to the advancement of principle and industry,
for it affords a stimulus. I should think solitary confinement proper
only in atrocious cases. I would divide every woman for a few weeks,
until I knew what they were, but I would afterwards regulate them as I
have before mentioned."
"Has gaming entirely ceased?"
"It has of late: they have once been found gaming since we had care of
the prison, but I called the women up when I found that some of them had
been playing at cards, and represented to them how much I objected to
it, and how evil I thought its consequence was, especially to them; at
the same time I stated that if there were cards in the prison, I should
consider it a proof of their regard if they would have the candor and
the kindness to bring me their packs. I did not expect they would do it,
for they would feel they had betrayed themselves by it; however, I was
sitting with the matron, and heard a gentle tap at the door, and in
came a trembling woman to tell me she had brought her pack of cards,
that she was not aware how wrong it was, and hoped I would do what I
liked with them. In a few minutes another came up, and in this way I had
five packs of cards burnt. I assured them that so far from its being
remembered against them, I should remember them in another way. I
brought them a present of clothing for what they had done, and one of
them, in a striking manner, said she hoped I would excuse her being so
forward, but, if she might say it, she felt exceedingly disappointed;
she little thought of having clothing given her, but she had hoped I
would give her a Bible, that she might read the Scriptures. This had
been one of the worst girls, and she had behaved so very badly upon her
trial that it was almost shameful. She conducted herself afterwards in
so amiable a manner, that her conduct was almost without a flaw. She is
now in the Penitentiary, and, I hope, will become a valuable member of
society."
"You have stated three things which to your mind are essential to the
reformation of a prison: first, religious instruction; secondly,
classification; thirdly, employment. Do you think that any reformation
can be accomplished without employment?"
"I should believe it impossible; we may instruct as we will, but if we
allow them their time, and they have nothing to do, they must naturally
return to their evil practices."
"How many removals of female prisoners have you had in the last year, in
Newgate; how many gone to Botany Bay?"
"Eighteen women; and thirty-seven to the Penitentiary."
"Can you state out of what number of convicts these have been in the
course of a year?"
"I do not think I can; but, of course, out of many hundreds."
"In fact, has there been only one regular removal within the last year?"
"But one. There is one very important thing which ought to be stated on
the subject of women taking care of women. It has been said that there
were three things which were requisite in forming a prison that would
really tend to the reformation of the women; but there is a fourth, viz:
that women should be taken care of entirely by women, and have no male
attendants, unless it be a medical man or any minister of religion. For
I am convinced that much harm arises from the communication, not only to
the women themselves, but to those who have the care of them."
"In the present arrangement is it not so with regard to the women?"
"It is very nearly so; but if I had a prison completely such as I
should like it, it would be a prison quite apart from the men's prison,
and into which neither turnkeys nor anyone else should enter but female
attendants and the Inspecting Committee of Ladies, except, indeed, such
gentlemen as come to look after their welfare."
"In what does the turnkey interfere now with the prison?"
"Very little; and yet there is a certain intercourse which it is
impossible for us to prevent. And it must be where there is a prison for
women and men, and there are various officers who are men in the prison;
it is impossible that they should be entirely separate. In the present
state of Newgate such a plan as I have in my mind respecting the proper
management of women prisoners cannot be put into execution. We must have
turnkeys and a governor to refer to; but I should like to have a prison
which had nothing to do with men, except those who attended them
spiritually or medically."
"Do you believe men to be as much excluded from all communication with
the women now as is possible in the present state of Newgate?"
"Yes, I think very nearly so. My idea with regard to the employment of
women is, that it should be a regular thing undertaken by Government,
considering (though, perhaps, I am not the person to speak of that) that
there are so many to provide for; there is the army and navy, and so
many things to provide for them; why should not the Government make use
of the prisoners? But I consider it of the utmost importance, and quite
indispensable for the conduct of these institutions, that the prisoners
should have part of the earnings of their work for their own use; a part
they might be allowed to take for tea, sugar, etc., but a part should be
laid by that there maybe some provision for them when they leave the
prison, without their returning to their immoral practices. This is the
case, I believe, in all prisons well regulated, both on the continent of
Europe and America. In a prison under proper regulation, where they had
very little communication with their friends, where they were
sufficiently well fed and clothed, constantly employed and instructed,
and taken care of by women, I have not the least doubt that wonders
would be performed, and that many of those, now the most profligate and
worst of characters, would turn out valuable members of society. After
having said what I have respecting the care of women, I will just add
that I believe that if there were a prison fitted up for us, which we
might visit as inspectors, if employment were found for our women,
little or no communication with the city, and room given to class them,
with female servants only, if there were a thousand of the most unruly
women they would be in excellent order in one week; of that I have not
the least doubt."
The natural consequence of this evidence was increased publicity and
increased usefulness; the first to Mrs. Fry's sorrow, and the second to
her great joy. Much as she desired to work in secret, it was not
possible; nor, all things considered, was it for the best that she
should do so. The prison reform which she desired to see carried out was
destined to cover, and indeed, required a larger area than she could
obtain. But the fame of her improvements at Newgate, the tales of lions
being turned into lambs, and sinners into saints, by the exertions of
this woman and her band of helpers, caught the ear and thrilled the
heart of the public. The excitement produced among the community
deepened and intensified as more of the work became revealed.
Representatives of every class in society visited the gloomy precincts
of Newgate, in order to see and hear for themselves how far these
wonders extended, while at every hospital and fashionable board the
theme was ever the same. At one time Mrs. Fry was at Newgate in company
with the Chancellor of the Exchequer and other celebrities; while at
another time she appeared at the Mansion House, honored by royalty, the
"observed of all observers." The Queen of England, among others, was
anxious to see and converse with the woman who had with such quiet power
succeeded in solving a great social problem, and that where municipal
authorities had failed.
Mrs. Fry, although belonging to that religious community which takes not
off the hat to royalty, possessed loyal feelings. Therefore, when Queen
Charlotte commanded her to appear at the Mansion House, in order to be
formerly presented to her, with true womanly grace and respect she
hastened to obey. It was intended that the presentation should have
taken place in the drawing-room, but by some mistake Mrs. Fry was
conducted to the Egyptian Hall, where a number of school-children were
waiting to be examined. Mrs. Fry occupied a post near the platform; and
after a little time the Queen, now aged and infirm, perceived her. As
soon as the examination of the children was over she advanced to Mrs.
Fry. Her Majesty's small figure, her dress blazing with diamonds, her
courtesy and kindness as she spoke to the now celebrated Quakeress, who
stood outwardly calm in the costume of her creed, and just a little
flushed with the unwonted excitement, attracted universal homage.
Around stood several bishops, peers, and peeresses; the hall was filled
with spectators, while outside the crowd surged and swayed as crowds are
wont to do. For a few moments the two women spoke together; then the
strict rules of etiquette were overcome by the enthusiasm of the
assembly and a murmur of applause, followed by a ringing English cheer,
went up. This cheer was repeated by the crowd outside, again and again,
while the most worldly butterfly that ever buzzed and fluttered about a
court learnt that day that there was in goodness and benevolence
something better than fashion and nobler than rank. This was almost, if
not quite, Queen Charlotte's last public appearance; she very soon
afterwards passed to her rest, "old and full of days."
Ever true to her own womanly instincts, we find Mrs. Fry lamenting, in
her journal, that herself and the prison are becoming quite a show; yet,
on the other hand, she recognized the good of this inconvenience,
inasmuch as the work spread among all classes of society. Various
opinions were passed upon her, and on one occasion a serious
misunderstanding with Lord Sidmouth, respecting a case of capital
punishment, severely tried her constancy. Some carping critics found
fault, others were envious, others censorious and shallow; but neither
good report nor evil report moved her very greatly, although possibly at
times they were the subject of much inward struggle.
This question of Prison Reform at last reached Parliament. In June,
1818, the Marquis of Lansdowne moved an address to the Prince Regent,
asking an inquiry into the state of the prisons of the United Kingdom.
He made a remarkable speech, quoting facts relating to the miseries of
the jails, and concluded with a high eulogium on Mrs. Fry's labors among
the criminals of Newgate, giving her the title "Genius of Good." This
step drew public attention still more to the matter and prison-visiting
and prison reform became the order of the day. As public attention had
been aroused, and public sympathy had been gained for the cause, it is
not wonderful that beneficial legislative measures were at last carried.
Meanwhile the ladies continued their good work. It was one of the
cardinal points of their creed, that it was not good for the criminals
to have much intercourse with their friends outside. In past times
unlimited beer had been carried into Newgate; at least the quantity so
disposed of was only limited by the amount of ready cash or credit at
the disposal of the criminals and their friends. This had been stopped
with the happiest results, and now it seemed time to adopt some measures
which should secure some little additional comfort for the prisoners. In
order to effect this a sub-matron, or gate-keeper, was engaged, who
assisted in the duties at the lodge, and kept a small shop "between
gates," where tea, sugar, and other little comforts could be purchased
by the prisoners out of their prison earnings. This step was a
successful one, for with the decrease of temptation from without, came
an increase of comfort from within, provided they earned money and
obeyed rules. Plenty of work could be done, seeing that they all
required more or less clothing, while Botany Bay could take any number
of garments to be utilized for the members of the penal settlement
there.
Two months after Lord Lansdowne's motion was made in Parliament, Mrs.
Fry, together with Joseph John Gurney, his wife, and her own daughter,
Rachel, went into Scotland on a religious and philanthropic tour. The
chief object of this journey seems to have been the visitation of
Friends' Meetings in that part of the kingdom; but the prison enterprise
was by no means forgotten. In her journal she records visits to meetings
of Friends held at Aberdeen, Edinburgh, Glasgow, Liverpool and Knowsley.
At the latter place they were guests of the Earl of Derby, and much
enjoyed the palatial hospitality which greeted them. They made a point
of visiting most of the jails and bridewells in the towns through which
they passed, finding in some of them horrors far surpassing anything
that Newgate could have shown them even in its unreformed days. At
Haddington four cells, allotted to prisoners of the tramp and criminal
class, were "very dark, excessively dirty, had clay floors, no
fire-places, straw in one corner for a bed, and in each of them a tub,
the receptacle for all filth." Iron bars were used upon the prisoners so
as to become instruments of torture. In one cell was a poor young man
who was a lunatic--whence nobody knew. He had been subject to the misery
and torture of Haddington jail for eighteen months, without once leaving
his cell for an airing. No clothes were allowed, no medical man attended
those who were incarcerated, and a chaplain never entered there, while
the prison itself was destitute of any airing-yard. The poor debtors,
whether they were few or many, were all confined in one small cell not
nine feet square, where one little bed served for all.
At Kinghorn, Fifeshire, a young laird had languished in a state of
madness for six years in the prison there, and had at last committed
suicide. Poor deranged human nature flew to death as a remedy against
torture. At Forfar, prisoners were chained to the bedstead; at Berwick,
to the walls of their cells; and at Newcastle to a ring in the floor.
The two most objectionable features in Scotch prisons, as appears from
Mr. Gurney's "Notes" of this tour, were the treatment of debtors, and
the cruelties used to lunatics. Both these classes of individuals were
confined as criminals, and treated with the utmost cruelty.
According to Scotch law, the jailer and magistrates who committed the
debtor became responsible for the debt, supposing the prisoner to have
effected his escape. Self-interest, therefore, prompted the adoption of
cruel measures to ensure the detention of the unfortunate debtor; while
helpless lunatics were wholly at the mercy of brutalized keepers who
were responsible to hardly any tribunal. Of the horrors of that dark,
terrible time within those prison-walls, few records appear; few cared
to probe the evil, or to propose a remedy. The archives of Eternity
alone contain the captive's cries, and the lamentations of tortured
lunatics. Only one Eye penetrated the dungeons; one Ear heard. Was not
Elizabeth Fry and her coadjutors doing a god-like work? And when she
raised the clarion cry that _Reformation_, not _Revenge_, was the object
of punishment, she shook these old castles of Giant Despair to their
foundations.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE GALLOWS AND ENGLISH LAWS.
About this period the subject of Capital Punishment largely attracted
Mrs. Fry's attention. The attitude of Quakers generally towards the
punishment of death, except for murder in the highest degree, was
hostile; but Mrs. Fry's constant intercourse with inmates in the
condemned cell fixed her attention in a very painful manner upon the
subject. For venial crimes, men and women, clinging fondly to life, were
swung off into eternity; and neither the white lips of the
philanthropist, nor the official ones of the appointed chaplain, could
comfort the dying. Among these dying ones were many women, who were
executed for simply passing forged Bank of England notes; but as the
bank had plenary powers to arrange to screen certain persons who were
not to die, these were allowed to get off with a lighter punishment by
pleading "Guilty to the minor count." The condemned cell was never,
however, without its occupant, nor the gallows destitute of its prey. So
Draconian were the laws of humane and Christian England, at this date,
that had they been strictly carried out, at least four executions daily,
exclusive of Sundays, would have taken place in this realm.
According to Hepworth Dixon, and contemporary authorities, the
sanguinary measures of the English Government for the punishment of
crimes dated from about the time of the Jacobite rebellion, in 1745.
Prior to that time, adventurers of every grade, the idle, vicious, and
unemployed, had found an outlet for their turbulence and their energies
in warfare--engaging on behalf of the Jacobites, or the Government,
according as it suited their fancy. But when the House of Hanover
conquered, and the trade of war became spoiled within the limits of
Great Britain, troops of these discharged soldiers took to a marauding
life; the high roads became infested with robbers, and crimes of
violence were frequent. Alarmed at the license displayed by these
Ishmaelites, the Government of the day arrayed its might against them,
enacting such sanguinary measures that at first sight it seemed as if
the deliberate intent were to literally cut them off and root them out
from the land. That era was indeed a bloodthirsty one in English
jurisprudence.
Enactments were passed in the reign of the second George, whereby it
was made a capital crime to rob the mail, or any post-office; to kill,
steal, or drive away any sheep or cattle, with intention to steal, or to
be accessory to the crime. The "Black Act," first passed in the reign of
George I., and enlarged by George II., punished by hanging, the hunting,
killing, stealing, or wounding any deer in any park or forest; maiming
or killing any cattle, destroying any fish or fish-pond, cutting down or
killing any tree planted in any garden or orchard, or cutting any
hop-bands in hop plantations. Forgery, smuggling, coining, passing bad
coin, or forged notes, and shop-lifting; all were punishable by death.
From a table published by Janssen, and quoted from Hepworth Dixon, we
find that in twenty-three years, from 1749 to 1771, eleven hundred and
twenty-one persons were condemned to death in London alone. The offenses
for which these poor wretches received sentence included those named
above, in addition to seventy-two cases of murder, two cases of riot,
one of sacrilege, thirty-one of returning from transportation, and four
of enlisting for foreign service. Of the total number condemned, six
hundred and seventy-eight were actually hanged, while the remainder
either died in prison, were transported, or pardoned. As four hundred
and one persons were transported, a very small number indeed obtained
deliverance either by death or pardon. In fact, scarcely any extenuating
circumstances were allowed; so that in some cases cruelty seemed
actually to have banished justice. It is recorded, as one of these
cases, that a young woman with a babe at the breast, was hanged for
stealing from a shop a piece of cloth of the value of five shillings.
The poor woman was the destitute wife of a young man whom the press-gang
had captured and carried off to sea, leaving her and her babe to the
mercy of the world. Utterly homeless and starving, she stole to buy
food; but a grateful country requited the services of the sailor-husband
by hanging the wife.
The _certainty_ of punishment became nullified by the _severity_ of the
laws. Humane individuals hesitated to prosecute, especially for forgery;
while juries seized upon every pretext to return verdicts of "Not
guilty." Reprieves were frequent, for the lives of many were
supplicated, and successfully; so that the death-penalty was commuted
into transportation. Caricaturists, writers, philanthropists,
divines--all united in the chorus of condemnation against the bloody
enactments which secured such a crop for the gallows. Men, women, girls,
lads and idiots, all served as food for it. Jack Ketch had a merry time
of it, while society looked on well pleased, for the most part. Those
appointed to sit in the seat of justice sometimes defended this state of
things. One of the worthies of the "good old times"--Judge
Heath--notorious because of his partiality for hanging, is reported to
have said: "If you imprison at home, the criminal is soon thrown back
upon you hardened in guilt. If you transport you corrupt infant
societies, and sow the seeds of atrocious crimes over the habitable
globe. There is no regenerating a felon in this life. And, for his own
sake, as well as for the sake of society, I think it better to hang."
As a caricaturist George Cruikshank entered the field, and waged battle
on behalf of the poor wretches who swung at the gallows for passing
forged Bank of England notes. He drew a note resembling the genuine one,
and entitled it "Bank note, _not_ to be imitated." A copy of this
caricature now lies before us. It bears on its face a representation of
a large gallows, from which eleven criminals, three of whom are women,
are dangling, dead. In the upper left hand corner, Britannia is
represented as surrounded by starving, wailing creatures, and surmounted
by a hideous death's head. Underneath is a rope coiled around the
portraits of twelve felons who have suffered; while, running down, to
form a border, are fetters arranged in zig-zag fashion. Across the note
run these words, "_Ad lib., ad lib._, I promise to perform during the
issue of Bank notes easily imitated, and until the resumption of cash
payments, or the abolition of the punishment of death, for the Governors
and Company of the Bank of England.--J. KETCH." The note is a unique
production, and must have created an enormous sensation. Cruikshank's
own story, writing in 1876, is this:--
Fifty-eight years back from this date there were one-pound Bank of
England notes in circulation, and, unfortunately, many forged notes
were in circulation also, or being passed, the punishment for which
offense was in some cases transportation, in others DEATH. At this
period, having to go early to the Royal Exchange one morning, I
passed Newgate jail, and saw several persons suspended from the
gibbet; _two_ of these were women who had been executed for passing
one-pound forged notes.
I determined, if possible, to put a stop to such terrible
punishments for such a crime, and made a sketch of the above note,
and then an etching of it.
Mr. Hone published it, and it created a sensation. The Directors of
the Bank of England were exceedingly wroth. The crowd around Hone's
shop in Ludgate Hill was so great that the Lord Mayor had to send
the police to clear the street. The notes were in such demand that
they could not be printed fast enough, and I had to sit up all one
night to etch another plate. Mr. Hone realized above £700, and I
had the satisfaction of knowing that no man or woman was ever
hanged after this for passing one-pound Bank of England notes.
The issue of my "Bank Note note not to be Imitated" not only put a
stop to the issue of any more Bank of England one-pound notes, but
also put a stop to the punishment of death for such an offense--not
only for that, but likewise for forgery--and then the late Sir
Robert Peel revised the penal code; so that the final effect of my
note was to stop hanging for all minor offenses, and has thus been
the means of saving thousands of men and women from being hanged.
It may be that the great caricaturist claims almost too much when he
says that the publication of his note eventually stopped hanging for all
minor offenses; but certainly there is no denying that this publication
was an important factor in the agitation.
It is said that George III. kept a register of all the cases of capital
punishment, that he entered in it all names of felons sentenced to
death, with dates and particulars of convictions, together with remarks
upon the reasons which induced him to sign the warrants. It is also said
that he frequently rose from his couch at night to peruse this fatal
list, and that he shut himself up closely in his private apartments
during the hours appointed for the execution of criminals condemned to
death.
Tyburn ceased to be the place of execution for London in 1783; from that
year Newgate witnessed most of these horrors.
Philanthropists of every class were, at the period of Mrs. Fry's career
now under review, considering this matter of capital punishment, and
taking steps to restrain the infliction of the death penalty. The Gurney
family among Quakers, William Wilberforce, Sir James Mackintosh, Sir
Samuel Romilly, and others, were all working hard to this end. In 1819
William Wilberforce presented a petition from the Society of Friends to
Parliament against death punishment for crimes other than murder.
Writing at later dates upon this subject, Joseph John Gurney says: "I
cannot say that my spirit greatly revolts against life for life, though
capital punishment for anything short of this appears to me to be
execrable." And, again, "I cannot in conscience take any step towards
destroying the life of a fellow-creature whose crime against society
affects my property only. I am in possession, like other men, of the
feelings of common humanity, and to aid and abet in procuring the
destruction of any man living would be to me extremely distressing and
horrible." As a banker, Mr. Gurney felt that the punishment for forgery
should be heavy and sharp, but less than death. In the Houses of
Parliament various efforts were made to obtain the commutation of the
death penalty, and when in 1810 the Peers rejected Sir Samuel Romilly's
bill to remove the penalty for shop-lifting, the Dukes of Sussex and
Gloucester joined some of the Peers in signing a protest against the
law. The time appeared to be ripe for agitation; all classes of society
reverenced human life more than of old, and desired to see it held less
cheap by the ministers of justice.
According to Mrs. Fry's experience, the punishment of death tended
neither to the security of the people, the reformation of any prisoner,
nor the diminution of crime. Felons who suffered death for light
offenses looked upon themselves as martyrs--martyrs to a cruel law--and
believed that they had but to meet death with fortitude to secure a
blissful hereafter. This fearful opiate carried many through the
terrible ordeal outwardly calm and resigned.
Among the condemned ones was Harriet Skelton, a woman who had been
detected passing forged Bank of England notes. She was described as
prepossessing, "open, confiding, expressing strong feelings on her
countenance, but neither hardened in depravity nor capable of cunning."
Her behavior in prison was exceptionally good; so good, indeed, that
some of the depraved inmates of Newgate supposed her to have been
condemned to death because of her fitness for death. She had evidently
been more sinned against than sinning; the man whom she lived with, and
who was ardently loved by her, had used her as his instrument for
passing these false notes. Thus she had been lured to destruction.
After the decision had been received from the Lords of the Council,
Skelton was taken into the condemned cell to await her doom. To this
cell came numerous visitors, attracted by compassion for the poor
unfortunate who tenanted it, and each one eager to obtain the
commutation of the cruel sentence. It was one thing to read of one or
another being sentenced to death, but quite another to behold a woman,
strong in possession of, and desire for life, fated to be swung into
eternity before many days because of circulating a false note at the
behest of a paramour. Mrs. Fry needed not the many persuasions she
received to induce her to put forth the most unremitting exertions on
behalf of Skelton. She obtained an audience of the Duke of Gloucester,
and urged every circumstance which could be urged in extenuation of the
crime, entreating for the woman's life. The royal duke remembered the
old days at Norwich, when Elizabeth had been know in fashionable society
and had figured somewhat as a belle, and he bent a willing ear to her
request. He visited Newgate, escorted by Mrs. Fry, and saw for himself
the agony in that condemned cell. Then he accompanied her to the bank
directors, and applied to Lord Sidmouth personally, but all in vain. It
was not blood for blood, nor life for life, but blood for "filthy
lucre;" so the poor woman was hung in obedience to the inexorable
ferocity of the law and its administrators.
On this occasion Mrs. Fry was seriously distressed in mind. She had
vehemently entreated for the poor creature's life, stating that she had
had the offer of pleading guilty only to the minor count, but had
foolishly rejected it in hope of obtaining a pardon. The question at
issue on this occasion was the power of the bank directors to virtually
decide as to the doom of the accused ones. Mrs. Fry made assertions and
gave instances which Lord Sidmouth assumed to doubt. Further than this,
he was seriously annoyed at the noise this question of capital
punishment was making in the land, and though not necessarily a cruel or
blood-thirsty man, the Home Secretary shrank from meddling too much with
the criminal code of England. This misunderstanding was a source of deep
pain to the philanthropist, and, accompanied by Lady Harcourt, she
endeavored to remove Lord Sidmouth's false impressions, but in vain.
While smarting under this wound, received in the interests of humanity,
she had to go to the Mansion House by command of Her Majesty Queen
Charlotte, to be presented. Thus, very strangely, and against her will,
she was thrust forward into the very foremost places of public
observation and repute. She recorded the matter in her journal, in her
own characteristic way:--
"Yesterday I had a day of ups and downs, as far as the opinions of
man are concerned, in a remarkable degree. I found that there was a
grievous misunderstanding between Lord Sidmouth and myself, and
that some things I had done had tried him exceedingly; indeed, I
see that I have mistaken my conduct in some particulars respecting
the case of poor Skelton, and in the efforts made to save her life,
I too incautiously spoke of some in power. When under great
humiliation in consequence of this, Lady Harcourt, who most kindly
interested herself in the subject, took me with her to the Mansion
House, rather against my will, to meet many of the royal family at
the examination of some large schools. Among the rest, the Queen
was there. There was quite a buzz when I went into the Egyptian
Hall, where one or two thousand people were collected; and when the
Queen came to speak to me, which she did very kindly, I am told
that there was a general clapp. I think I may say this hardly
raised me at all; I was so very low from what had occurred
before.... My mind has not recovered this affair of Lord Sidmouth,
and finding that the bank directors are also affronted with me
added to my trouble, more particularly as there was an appearance
of evil in my conduct; but, I trust, no greater fault in reality
than a want of prudence in that which I expressed."
The Society of Friends had always been opposed to capital punishment.
Ten years previously, Sir Samuel Romilly had determined to attack these
sanguinary enactments, one by one, in order to ensure success. He began,
therefore, with the Act of Queen Elizabeth, "which made it a capital
offense to steal privately from the person of another." William Alien
records in the same year, 1808, the formation of a "Society for
Diffusing Information on the Subject of Punishment by Death." This
little band worked with Sir Samuel until his painful death in 1818;
while Dr. Parr, Jeremy Bentham, and Dugald Stewart aided the enterprise
by words of encouragement, both in public and in private. In Joseph John
Gurney's Memoirs, it is stated that Dr. Lushington declared his opinion
that the poor criminal was thus hurried out of life and into eternity by
means of the perpetration of another crime far greater, for the most
part, than any which the sufferer had committed.
The feeling grew, and in place of the indifference and scorn of human
life which had formerly characterized society, there sprang up an eager
desire to save life, except for the crime of murder. In May, 1821, Sir
James Mackintosh introduced a bill for "Mitigating the Severity of
Punishment in Certain Cases of Forgery, and Crimes connected
therewith." Buxton, in advocating this measure, says truly:
The people have made enormous strides in all that tends to civilize
and soften mankind, while the laws have contracted a ferocity which
did not belong to them in the most savage period of our history;
and, to such extremes of distress have they proceeded that I do
believe there never was a law so harsh as British law, or so
merciful and humane a people as the British people. And yet to this
mild and merciful people is left the execution of that rigid and
cruel law.
This measure was defeated, but the numbers of votes were so nearly
equal, that the defeat was actually a victory.
Time went on. In 1831, Sir Robert Peel took up the gauntlet against
capital punishment, and endeavored to induce Parliament to abolish the
death-penalty for forgery; the House of Commons voted its abolition, but
the Lords restored the clauses retaining the penalty. One thousand
bankers signed a petition praying that the vote of the Commons might be
sustained, but in vain; still, in deference to public opinion, after
this the death-penalty was not inflicted upon a forger. Nevertheless,
there remained plenty of food for the gallows. An incendiary, as well as
a sheep-stealer, was liable to capital punishment; and so severely was
the law strained upon these points, that he who set fire to a rick in a
field, as well as he who found a half-dead sheep and carried it home,
was condemned without mercy. But the advocates of mercy continued their
good work until, finally, the gallows became the penalty for only those
offenses which concerned human life and high treason.
CHAPTER IX.
CONVICT SHIPS AND CONVICT SETTLEMENTS.
More work opened before the indefatigable worker. Frequently batches of
female convicts were despatched to New South Wales, and, according to
the custom at Newgate, departure was preceded by total disregard of
order. Windows, furniture, clothing, all were wantonly destroyed; while
the procession from the prison to the convict ship was one of brutal,
debasing riot. The convicts were conveyed to Deptford, in open wagons,
accompanied by the rabble and scum of the populace. These crowds
followed the wagons, shouting to the prisoners, defying all regulations,
and inciting them to more defiance of rules. Some of the convicts were
laden with irons; others were chained together by twos. Mrs. Fry
addressed herself first to the manner of departure, and, rightly judging
that the open wagons conduced to much disorder, prevailed on the
governor of Newgate to engage hackney-coaches for the occasion. Further,
she promised the women that, provided they would behave in an orderly
manner, she, together with a few other ladies, would accompany them to
the ship. Faithful to her promise, her carriage closed the line of
hackney-coaches; three or four ladies were with her, and thus, in a
fashion at once strangely quiet and novel, the transports reached the
place of embarkation.
There were one hundred and twenty-eight convicts that day; no small
number upon which to experimentalize. As soon as they reached the ship
they were herded together below decks like so many cattle, with nothing
to do but to curse, swear, fight, recount past crimes, relate foul
stories, or plot future evil. True, there was some attempt at order and
classification, for they were divided into messes of six each, and Mrs.
Fry eagerly seized upon this arrangement to form a basis of control. She
proposed to the convicts that they should be arranged in classes of
twelve, according to ages and criminality; to this they assented. A
class thus furnished two messes, while over each class was placed one of
the most steady convicts, in order to enforce the rules as much as
possible. She provided in this way for superintendence.
The next arrangement concerned work for the women, and instruction for
the children. "Satan finds some mischief still for idle hands to do;"
accordingly the ladies looked about for plans and methods whereby the
enforced weariness of a long voyage should be counteracted. They had
heard that patch-work and fancy-work found a ready sale in New South
Wales, so they hit upon a scheme which should ensure success in more
ways than one. Having made known their dilemma, and their desires, they
were cheered by receiving from some wholesale houses in London
sufficient remnants of cotton print and materials for knitting to
furnish all the convicts with work. There was ample time to perfect all
arrangements, seeing that the ship lay at Deptford about five weeks; as
the result of Mrs. Fry's journeys to and fro, every woman had given to
her the chance of benefiting herself. In this way they were informed
that if they chose to devote the leisure of the voyage to making up the
materials thus placed in their hands, they would be allowed upon arrival
at the colony to dispose of the articles for their own profit.
There was thus a new stimulus to exertion as well as a collateral good.
Hitherto, no refuge, home, or building of any description had existed
for the housing of the women when landed at the port of disembarkation.
There was "not so much as a hut in which they could take refuge, so that
they were literally driven to vice, or left to lie in the streets." The
system of convict-management at that date was one of compulsory labor,
or mostly so. This plan tended to produce tyranny, insubordination,
deception, vice, and "the social evil." In the case of men, Captain
Mackonochie testified that they were sullen, lazy, insubordinate and
vicious; the women, if not engaged quickly in respectable domestic
service, and desirous of being kept respectable, become curses to the
colony. But by the means adopted by Mrs. Fry each woman was enabled to
earn sufficient money to provide for board and lodging until some
opening for a decent maintenance presented itself. They thus obtained a
fair start.
Provision was also made for instruction of both women and children on
board ship. It may be asked how children came there? Generally they were
of tender years and the offspring of vice; the authorities could do
nothing with them; so, perforce, they were allowed to accompany their
mothers. Out of the batch on board this transport-vessel, fourteen were
found to be of an age capable of instruction. A small space was,
therefore, set apart in the stern of the vessel for a school-room, and
there, daily, under the tuition of one of the women better taught than
the rest, these waifs of humanity learned to read, knit and sew. This
slender stock of learning was better than none, wherewith to commence
life at the Antipodes.
Almost daily, for five weeks, Mrs. Fry and her coadjutors visited the
vessel, laboring to these good ends. Ultimately, however, the _Maria_
had to sail, and many were the doubts and fears as to whether the good
work begun would be carried on when away from English shores. No matron
was there to superintend and to direct the women: if they continued in
the path marked out for them, their poor human nature could not be so
fallen after all. Mrs. Fry had a kind of religious service with the
convicts the last time she visited them. She occupied a position near
the door of the cabin, with the women facing her, and ranged on the
quarter-deck, while the sailors occupied different positions in the
rigging and on other vantage points. As Mrs. Fry read in a solemn voice
some passages from her pocket-Bible, the sailors on board the other
ships leaned over to hear the sacred words. After the reading was done,
she knelt down, and commended the party of soon-to-be exiles to God's
mercy, while those for whom she prayed sobbed bitterly that they should
see her face no more. Does it not recall the parting of Paul with the
elders at Miletus? Doubtless the memory of that simple service was in
after days often the only link between some of these women and goodness.
As time went on, many anxious remembrances and hopes were cast after
the convicts who had been shipped to New South Wales. To her sorrow, she
found, from the most reliable testimony, that once the poor lost
wretches were landed in the colony, they were placed in circumstances
that absolutely nullified all the benevolent work which had gone before,
and were literally driven by force of circumstances to their
destruction. The female convicts, from the time of their landing, were
"without shelter, without resources, and without protection. Rations, or
a small amount of provision, sufficient to maintain life, they certainly
had allotted to them daily; but a place to sleep in, or money to obtain
shelter or necessary clothing for themselves, and, when mothers, for
their children, they were absolutely without." An interesting but sad
letter was received by Mrs. Fry from the Rev. Samuel Marsden, chaplain
at Paramatta, New South Wales, and although long, it affords so much
information on this question, that no apology is required for
introducing it here. As the testimony of an eyewitness it is valuable:--
HONORED MADAM,
Having learned from the public papers, as well as from my friends
in England, the lively interest you have taken in promoting the
temporal and eternal welfare of those unhappy females who fall
under the sentence of the law, I am induced to address a few lines
to you respecting such as visit our distant shores. It may be
gratifying to you, Madam, to hear that I meet with those wretched
exiles, who have shared your attentions, and who mention your
maternal care with gratitude and affection. From the measures you
have adopted, and the lively interest you have excited in the
public feeling, on the behalf of these miserable victims of vice
and woe, I now hope the period is not very distant when their
miseries will be in some degree alleviated. I have been striving
for more than twenty years to obtain for them some relief, but
hitherto have done them little good. It has not been in my power to
move those in authority to pay much attention to their wants and
miseries. I have often been urged in my own mind, to make an appeal
to the British nation, and to lay their case before the public.
In the year 1807, I returned to Europe. Shortly after my arrival in
London, I stated in a memorial to His Grace the Archbishop of
Canterbury the miserable situation of the female convicts, to His
Majesty's Government at the Colonial Office, and to several members
of the House of Commons. From the assurances that were then made,
that barracks should be built for the accommodation of the female
convicts, I entertained no doubt but that the Government would have
given instructions to the Governor to make some provisions for
them. On my return to the colony, in 1810, I found things in the
same state I left them; five years after my again arriving in the
colony, I took the liberty to speak to the Governor, as opportunity
afforded, on the subject in question, and was surprised to learn
that no instructions had been communicated to His Excellency from
His Majesty's Government, after what had passed between me and
those in authority at home, relative to the state of the female
convicts. At length I resolved to make an official statement of
their miserable situation to the Governor, and, if the Governor did
not feel himself authorized to build a barrack for them, to
transmit my memorial to my friends in England, with His
Excellency's answer, as a ground for them to renew my former
application to Government for some relief. Accordingly, I forwarded
my memorial, with a copy of the Governor's answer, home to more
than one of my friends. I have never been convinced that no
instructions were given by His Majesty's Government to provide
barracks for the female convicts; on the contrary, my mind is
strongly impressed in that instructions were given; if they were
not, I can only say that this was a great omission, after the
promises that were made. I was not ignorant that the sending home
of my letter to the Governor and his answer, would subject me to
the censure as well as the displeasure of my superiors. I informed
some of my friends in England, as well as in the colony, that if no
attention was paid to the female convicts, I was determined to lay
their case before the British nation; and then I was certain, from
the moral and religious feeling which pervades all ranks, that
redress would be obtained. However, nothing has been done yet to
remedy the evils of which I complain. For the last five and twenty
years many of the convict women have been driven to vice to obtain
a loaf of bread, or a bed to lie upon. To this day there never has
been a place to put the female convicts in when they land from the
ships. Many of the women have told me with tears their distress of
mind on this account; some would have been glad to have returned to
the paths of virtue if they could have found a hut to live in
without forming improper connections. Some of these women, when
they have been brought before the magistrate, and I have
remonstrated with them for their crime, have replied, "I have no
other means of living; I am compelled to give my weekly allowance
of provisions for my lodgings, and I must starve or live in vice."
I was well aware that this statement was correct, and was often at
a loss what to answer. It is not only the calamities that these
wretched women and their children suffer that are to be regretted,
but the general corruption of morals that such a system establishes
in this rising colony, and the ruin their example spreads through
all the settlements. The male convicts in the service of the Crown,
or in that of individuals, are tempted to rob and plunder
continually, to supply the urgent necessities of those women.
All the female convicts have not run the same lengths in vice. All
are not equally hardened in crime, and it is most dreadful that all
should alike, on their arrival here, be liable and exposed to the
same dangerous temptations, without any remedy. I rejoice, Madam,
that you reside near the seat of Government, and may have it in
your power to call the attention of His Majesty's Ministers to this
important subject--a subject in which the entire welfare of these
settlements is involved. If proper care be taken of the women, the
colony will prosper, and the expenses of the mother-country will be
reduced. On the contrary, if the morals of the female convicts are
wholly neglected, as they have been hitherto, the colony will be
only a nursery for crime....
Your good intentions and benevolent labors will all be abortive if
the exiled females, on their arrival in the colony, are plunged
into every ruinous temptation and sort of vice--which will ever be
the case till some barrack is provided for them. Great evils in a
state cannot soon be remedied.... I believe the Governor has got
instructions from home to provide accommodation for the female
convicts, and I hope in two or three years to see them lodged in a
comfortable barrack; so that none shall be lost for want of a hut
to lie in. If a communication be kept up on a regular plan between
this colony and London, much good may be done for the poor female
convicts. It was the custom for some years, when a ship with female
convicts arrived, soldiers, convicts, and settlers were allowed to
go on board and take their choice; this custom does not now openly
obtain countenance and sanction, but when they are landed they have
no friend, nor any accommodation, and therefore are glad to live
with anyone who can give them protection; so the real moral state
of these females is little improved from what it always has been,
nor will it be the least improved till they can be provided with a
barrack. The neglect of the female convicts in this country is a
disgrace to our national character, as well as a national sin. Many
do not live out half their days, from their habits of vice. When I
am called to visit them on their dying beds, my mind is greatly
pained, my mouth is shut; I know not what to say to them.... To
tell them of their crimes is to upbraid them with misfortune; they
will say, "Sir, you know how I was situated. I do not wish to lead
the life I have done; I know and lament my sins, but necessity
compelled me to do what my conscience condemned."... Many, again,
I meet with who think these things no crime, because they believe
their necessities compel them to live in their sins. Hence their
consciences are so hardened through the deceitfulness of sin, that
death itself gives them little concern....
I have the honor to be, Madam,
Your most obedient humble servant,
SAMUEL MARSDEN.
This appeal was not disregarded: in due time official apathy and
inertness fled before the national cry for reform. Meanwhile, Mrs. Fry
continued her efforts on behalf of the convicts on board the transports,
ever urging upon those in power the imperative necessity for placing the
women under the charge of matrons. They still continued on the old plan,
and were wholly in the power of the sailors, except for such supervision
as the Naval Surgeon Superintendent could afford. Some little
improvements had taken place, since that first trip to the Maria
convict-ship, but very much still remained to be done. To these floating
prisons, frequently detained for weeks in the Thames, Mrs. Fry paid
numerous visits, arranging for the instruction, employment, and
cleanliness of the women. A worthy fellow-helper, Mrs. Pryor, was her
companion, on most of these journeys, frequently enduring exposure to
weather, rough seas, and accidents. On one occasion the two sisters of
mercy ran the risk of drowning, but were fortunately rescued by a
passing vessel. Very fortunate, indeed, was it, that a deliverer was at
hand, or the little boat, toiling up the river, contending against tide,
wind and weather, might have been lost. That voyage to Gravesend was
only one among many destined to work a revolution in female convict
life.
Alterations, which were not always improvements, began to take place in
the manner of receiving these women on board ship. The vessels were
moored at Woolwich, and group by group the miserable complement of
passengers arrived; in each case, however, controlled by male warders.
Sometimes, a turnkey would bring his party on the outside of a
stage-coach; another might bring a contingent in a smack, or coasting
vessel; while yet a third marched up a band of heavily-ironed women,
whose dialects told from which districts they came. Sometimes their
infants were left behind, and, in such a case, one of the ladies would
go to Whitehall to obtain the necessary order to enable the unfortunate
nursling to accompany its mother; but generally speaking, the children
accompanied and shared the parents' fortunes.
Cruelties were inseparable from the customs which prevailed. In 1822,
Mrs. Pryor discovered that prisoners from Lancaster Castle arrived, not
merely handcuffed, but with heavy irons on their legs, which had
occasioned considerable swelling, and in one instance serious
inflammation. _The Brothers_ sailed in 1823, with its freight of human
misery on board, and the suffering which resulted from the mode of
ironing, was so great, that Mrs. Fry took down the names id particulars,
in order to make representations to the Government. Twelve women
arrived on board the vessel, handcuffed; eleven others had iron hoops
round their legs and arms, and were chained to each other. The
complaints of these women were mournful; they were not allowed to get up
or down from the coach, without the whole party being dragged together;
some of them had children to carry, but they received no help, no
alleviation to their sufferings. One woman from Wales must have had a
bitter experience of irons. She came to the ship with a hoop around her
ankle, and when the sub-matron insisted on having it removed, the
operation was so painful that the poor wretch fainted. She told Mrs. Fry
that she had worn, for some time, an iron hoop around her waist; from
that, a chain connected with hoops round her legs above the knee; from
these, another chain was fastened to irons round her ankles. Not content
with this, her hands were confined _every night_ to the hoop which went
round her waist, while she lay like a log on her bed of straw. Such
tales remind one of the tortures of the Inquisition.
The "Newgate women" were especially noticeable for good conduct on the
voyage out. Their conduct was reported to be "exemplary" by the Surgeon
Superintendent, and their industry was most pleasing. Their patchwork
was highly prized by many, and indeed treasured up by some of them for
many years after. Officers in the British navy assisted in the good work
by word and deed; in fact, Captain Young, of Deptford Dockyard, first
suggested the making of patchwork as an employment on board ship. From
some correspondence which passed between Mrs. Fry and the Controller of
the Navy, in 1820, we find that the building for the women in New South
Wales was begun; while in a letter written about this time to a member
of the Government, she explains her desires and plans relative to the
female convicts after their arrival at Hobart Town, Tasmania.
This letter is full of interesting points. After noticing the fact of
the building at Hobart Town being imperatively needed, she goes on to
suggest that a respectable and judicious matron should be stationed in
that building, responsible, under the Governor and magistrates, for the
order of the inmates; that part of the building should be devoted to
school purposes; that immediately on the arrival of a ship, a Government
Inspector should visit the vessel and report; that the Surgeon
Superintendent should have a description of each woman's offense,
character, and capability, so that her disposal in the colony might be
made in a little less hap-hazard fashion than hitherto; that the best
behaved should be taken into domestic service by such of the residents
of the colony as chose to coöperate, while the others should remain at
the Home, under prison rules, until they have earned the privilege of
going to service; and that a sufficient supply of serviceable clothing
should be provided. She further recommended the adoption of a uniform
dress for the convicts, as conducive to order and discipline, and, as a
last and indispensable condition, the appointment of a matron, in order
to enforce needful regulations. This epistle was sent with the prayer
that Earl Bathurst would peruse it, and grant the requests of the
writer. It is refreshing to be able to add that red tapeism did not
interfere with the adoption of these suggestions, but that they met with
prompt consideration.
Every year, four, five, or six convict-ships went out to the colonies of
Australia with their burdens of sin, sorrow and guilt. Van Diemen's Land
and New South Wales received annually fresh consignments of the outcast
iniquity of the Old World. Mrs. Fry made a point of visiting each ship
before it sailed, as many times as her numerous duties permitted, and
bade the convicts most affectionate and anxious farewells. These
good-bye visits were always semi-religious ones; without her Bible and
the teaching which pointed to a better life beyond, Mrs. Fry would have
been helpless to cope with the vice and misery which surged up before
her. As it was, her heart sometimes grew faint and weary in the work,
though not by any means weary of it. As an apostle of mercy to the
well-nigh lost, she moved in and out among those sin-stricken companies.
Captain (afterwards Admiral) Young, Principal Resident Agent of
Transports on the river Thames, forwarded the good work by every
possible means. From the pen of one of the members of his family, we
have a vivid picture of one of these leave-takings. It occurred on board
a vessel lying off Woolwich, in 1826. William Wilberforce, of
anti-slavery fame, and several other friends, accompanied the party.
This chronicler writes:--
On board one of them [there were two convict ships lying in the
river] between two and three hundred women were assembled, in order
to listen to the exhortations and prayers of perhaps the two
brightest personifications of Christian philanthropy that the age
could boast. Scarcely could two voices even so distinguished for
beauty and power be imagined united in a more touching engagement;
as, indeed, was testified by the breathless attention, the tears
and suppressed sobs of the gathered listeners. No lapse of time can
ever efface the impression of the 107th Psalm, as read by Mrs. Fry
with such extraordinary emphasis and intonation, that it seemed to
make the simple reading a commentary.
We find in the annals of her life the particulars of another visit to
the _George Hibbert_ convict-ship, in 1734. She had, about this time,
pleaded earnestly with Lord Melbourne, the Home Secretary, for the
appointment of matrons to these vessels. She records gratefully the
fact, that both his lordship and Mr. Spring Rice received her "in the
handsomest manner," giving her a most patient and appreciative hearing.
She succeeded at this time in obtaining a part of the boon which she
craved. Mrs. Saunders, the wife of a missionary returning to the colony,
was permitted by the Government to fill the office of matron to the
convicts. For this service, Government gave the lady a free passage.
There was double advantage in this, because, when by reason of
sea-sickness, Mrs. Saunders felt ill, Mr. Saunders occupied her place as
far as possible, and performed the duties of chaplain and school-master.
The Ladies' British Society, formed by Mrs. Fry, for the superintendence
of this and other good works relating to convicts and prisons, united in
promoting the appointment of this worthy couple, and were highly
gratified at the result of the experiment; as appears by extracts from
the books of the Convict Ship Committee. Finally, when the voyage was
ended, the Surgeon Superintendent gave good-conduct tickets to all whose
behavior had been satisfactory, and secured them engagements in
respectable situations. Better than all, there was a proper building
which ensured shelter, classification, and restraint. The horrors of the
outcast life, so vividly described by Mr. Marsden in his letter from
Paramatta, no longer existed. The work of these ladies, uphill though it
had been, was now bearing manifold fruit. And the results of this more
humane and rational system of treatment upon the future of the colonies
themselves could not but appear in time. There were on board this very
vessel, the _George Hibbert_, 150 female convicts, with forty-one
children; also nine free women, carrying with them twenty-three young
children, who were going out to their husbands who had been transported
previously. When it is remembered that these people were laying the
foundations of new colonies, and peopling them with their descendants,
it must be conceded that in her efforts to humanize and christianize
them, Mrs. Fry's far-reaching philanthropy became a great national
benefit. With modest thankfulness, she herself records, after an
interview with Queen Adelaide and some of the royal family, "Surely, the
result of our labors has hitherto been beyond our most sanguine
expectations, as to the improved state of our prisons, female
convict-ships, and the convicts in New South Wales."
CHAPTER X.
VISITS TO CONTINENTAL PRISONS.
Contrary to the general practice of mankind in matters of pure
benevolence, Mrs. Fry looked around for new worlds to conquer, in the
shape of yet unfathomed prison miseries. Many, if not most people, would
have rested upon the laurels already won, and have been contented with
the measures of good already achieved. Not so with the philanthropist
whose work we sketch. Like an ever-widening stream, her life rolled on,
full of acts of mercy, growing wider and broader in its channel of
operations and its schemes of mercy. In pursuance of these schemes she
visited prisons at Nottingham, Lincoln, Wakefield, Leeds, Doncaster,
Sheffield, York, Durham, Newcastle, Carlisle, Lancaster, Liverpool, and
most other towns of any size in England. She extended these journeys, at
different times, into Scotland and Ireland, examining into the condition
of prisons and prisoners with the deepest interest. It was her usual
custom to form ladies' prison-visiting societies, wherever practicable,
and to communicate to the authorities subsequently her views and
suggestions in letters, dealing with these matters in detail.
But her fame was not confined within the limits of the British Isles.
Communications reached her from St. Petersburg, from Hamburg, from
Brussels, from Baden, from Paris, Berlin, and Potsdam; all tending to
show that enquiry was abroad, that nations and governments as well as
individuals were waking up to a sense of their responsibilities. Both
rulers and legislators were beginning to see that _preventing_ crime was
wiser than _punishing_ it, that the reformation of the criminal classes
was the great end of punitive measures. This conviction reached, it was
comparatively easy for the philanthropists to work.
Before proceeding to the Continent, however, we find notes of one or two
very interesting visits to the Channel Isles. Her first visit was made
in 1833, and, to her surprise, she found that the islands had most
thoroughly ignored the prison teachings and improvements which had been
gaining so much ground in the United Kingdom. The reason of this was not
far to seek. Acts of Parliament passed in England had no power in the
Channel Isles; as part of the old Duchy of Normandy, they were governed
by their own laws and customs. The inhabitants, in their appearance,
manners, language, and usages, resemble the French more than they do the
English. Nothing deterred, however, Mrs. Fry made a tour of inspection,
and then according to her custom sent the result of her inquiries, and
the conclusions at which she had arrived, in the form of a letter to the
authorities. That letter is far too long for reproduction _in extenso_,
but a few of its leading recommendations were:--
1st. A full sufficiency of employment, proportioned to the age,
sex, health and ability of each prisoner.
2d. A proper system of classification, including the separation of
men from women, of tried from untried prisoners, and of debtors
from criminals.
3d. A fixed and suitable dietary for criminals, together with an
absolute prohibition of intoxicating drinks.
4th. A suitable prison dress with distinctive badges.
5th. A complete code of regulations binding on all officials.
6th. The appointment of a visiting committee to inspect the prison
regularly and frequently.
7th. Provision to be made for the instruction of criminals in the
common branches of education, and for the performance of divine
service at stated seasons by an appointed chaplain.
After adverting to the fact that the island was independent of British
control, she alluded to "the progressive wisdom of the age" in respect
to prison discipline and management, and urged the authorities to be
abreast of the times in adopting palliative measures. The whole penal
system of the islands required to be renewed, and it promised to be a
work of time before this could be effected. We find that Mrs. Fry
exerted herself for many years to this end; but it was not until after
the lapse of years, and after two visits to the islands, that she
succeeded.
The hospital at Jersey seemed to be a curious sort of institution
designed to shelter destitute sick and poor, as well as to secure the
persons of small offenders, and lunatics. Punishment with fetters was
inflicted in this place upon all those who tried to escape, so that it
was a sort of prison. Mrs. Fry's quick eye detected many abuses in its
management, and her pen suggested remedies for them.
At Guernsey, the same irregularities and abuses appeared, and were
attacked in her characteristic manner. In both these islands, as well as
in Sark, she inaugurated works of charity and religion, thus sowing
imperishable seed destined to bear untold fruit. Finally, after more
visits from herself, and special inspectors appointed by Government, a
new house of correction was built in Jersey, while other improvements
necessary to the working out of her prison system were, one by one,
adopted.
In January, 1838, she paid her first visit to France, being accompanied
on this journey by her husband, by Josiah Forster, and by Lydia Irving,
members of the Society of Friends. True to her instinct, she found her
way speedily into the prisons of the French capital, examining,
criticising, recommending and teaching. She could not speak much French,
but some kind friend always interpreted her observations. From her
journal it seems that solemn prayer for Divine guidance and blessing
occupied the forenoon of the first day in Paris; after that, visits of
ceremony were paid to the English Ambassador, and of friendship to other
persons. Among the prisons visited were the St. Lazare Prison for women,
containing 952 inmates, La Force Prison for men, the Central Prison at
Poissy, and that of the Conciergerie. The first-named, that of St.
Lazare, was visited several times, and portions of Scripture read, as at
Newgate. The listeners were very much affected, manifesting their
feelings by frequent exclamations and tears. Lady Granville, Lady
Georgina Fullerton, and some other ladies accompanied Mrs. Fry to this
prison on one visit, when all agreed that much good would result from
the appointment and work of a Ladies' Committee. Hospitals, schools, and
convents also came in for a share of attention; and after discussing
points of interest connected with the prisons with the Prefect of
Police, she concluded by obtaining audience of the King, Queen and
Duchess of Orleans.
On the journey homeward the party visited the prisons of Caen, Rouen and
Beaulieu, distributing copies of the Scriptures to the prisoners. She
notices with much delight the united feeling in respect of benevolent
objects which existed between Roman Catholics and herself. Her own words
are "a hidden power of good at work amongst them; many very
extraordinary Christian characters, bright, sober, zealous Roman
Catholics and Protestants."
In the commencement of 1839, the low state of the funds of the different
benevolent societies formed in connection with her prison labors,
exercised her faith. None ever carried into practice more fully the old
monkish maxim _Labor est orare_. Refuges had been formed, at Chelsea for
girls, and at Clapham for women, while the Ladies' Society and the
convict-ships demanded funds incessantly. A fancy sale was held in
Crosby Hall, "conducted in a sober, quiet manner," which realized over a
thousand pounds for these charities. After recording the fact with
thankfulness, Mrs. Fry paid her second visit to the Continent, going as
far as Switzerland on her errand of mercy.
At Paris she was received affectionately by those friends who had
listened to her voice on her previous visit. Baron de Girando and other
philanthropists gathered around her, oblivious of the distinctions of
creeds and churches, and bent only on accomplishing a successful crusade
against vice and misery.
Among the hospitals inspected by her were the hospital of St. Louis for
the plague, leprosy, and other infectious disorders; the Hospice de la
Maternité, and the Hospice des Enfans Trovés. This latter was founded by
St. Vincent de Paul for the bringing up of foundlings, but had fallen
into a state of pitiable neglect. From the unnatural treatment which
these poor waifs received, the mortality had reached a frightful pitch.
It seemed, from Mrs. Fry's statements, that the little creatures were
bound up for hours together, being only released from their "swaddlings"
once in every twelve hours for any and every purpose. The sound in the
wards could only be compared to the faint and pitiful bleating of lambs.
A lady who frequently visited the institution said that she never
remembered examining the array of clean white cots that lined the walls
without finding at least one dead babe. "In front of the fire was a
sloping stage, on which was a mattress, and a row of these little
creatures placed on it to warm and await their turn to be fed from the
spoon by a nurse. After much persuasion, one that was crying piteously
was released from its swaddling bands; it stretched its little limbs,
and ceased its wailings." Supposing these children of misfortune
survived the first few weeks of such a life they were sent into the
country to be reared by different peasants; but there again a large
percentage died from infantile diseases. Mrs. Fry succeeded in securing
some ameliorations of the treatment of the babes; but sisters, doctors,
superior, and all, seemed bound by the iron bands of custom and
tradition.
The Archbishop of Paris was somewhat annoyed at her proceedings and
expressed his displeasure; it seemed more, however, to be directed
against her practice of distributing the Scriptures, than really against
her prison work.
At Nismes, under the escort of five armed soldiers, because of the known
violence of the desperadoes whom she visited, she inspected the Maison
Centrale, containing about 1,200 prisoners. She interceded for some of
them that they might be released from their fetters, undertaking at the
same time that the released prisoners should behave well. At a
subsequent visit, after holding a religious service among these felons,
the same men thanked her with tears of gratitude.
Much to her delight, she discovered a body of religionists who held
principles similar to those of the Society of Friends. They were
descendants of the Camisards, a sect of Protestants who took refuge in
the mountains of the Cevennes during the persecution which followed the
revocation of the Edict of Nantes, and were descended originally from
the Albigenses. Their three most distinguished pastors were Claude
Brousson, who took part in the sufferings at the general persecution of
the Protestants; Jean Cavalier, the soldier-pastor who led his flock to
battle, and who now sleeps in an English graveyard; and Antoine Court,
who formed this "church in the desert," into a more compact body. The
first of these pastors was hanged for "heresy" at Montpellier, in 1698;
but he, together with his successors, labored so devoutly and so
ardently, that the persecuted remnant rose from the dust and proved
themselves valiant for the truth as they had received and believed it.
It was not possible that the seed of a people which had learnt the
sermons preached to them off by heart, and written the texts on stone
tablets, in order to pass them from one mountain village to another,
could ever die out. The descendants of those martyrs had come down
through long generations, to nourish at last openly in Nismes. Mrs. Fry
recognized in them the kindred souls of faithful believers. After this,
the party spent a fortnight at a little retired village called
Congenies, where they welcomed many others of their own creed. A house
with "vaulted rooms, whitewashed and floored with stone," sheltered them
during this quaint sojourn, while the villagers vied with each other in
contributing to their comforts.
At Toulon they visited the "Bagnes," or prison for the galley slaves.
These poor wretches fared horribly, while the loss of life among them
was terrible. They worked very hard, slept on boards, and were fed upon
bread and dry beans. At night they were ranged in a long gallery, and in
number from one hundred to two hundred, were all chained to the iron rod
which ran the entire length of the gallery. By day they worked chained
together in couples.
At Marseilles a new kind of prison was inspected by her; this was a
conventual institution and refuge for female penitents, under the
control of the nuns of the order of St. Charles, who to the three
ordinary vows of poverty, chastity, and obedience, added that of
converting souls. Superintending ladies in the city, who bore the title
of "directresses," were not even permitted to see the women immured
there; indeed, only one was permitted to enter the building in order to
look after the necessary repairs, and even she was strictly restrained
from seeing a penitent or sister. It seemed hopeless in the face of
these facts to expect admission, but Mrs. Fry's name and errand
prevailed. Accompanied by one of these nominal directresses, she was
admitted and shown into a large, plainly-furnished parlor. After she had
waited some little time, the Lady Superior presented herself at the
grating, and prepared to hear the communications of her visitors. In the
course of the conversation which passed, it appeared that there were
over one hundred penitents in the convent, who mostly became servants
after their reclamation. It seemed that they "were not taught to read or
write, neither was the least morsel of pencil, paper, pen, ink, or any
other possible material for writing permitted, from the fear of their
communicating with people without." The Superior admitted that portions
of the Bible were suitable to the inmates, such as the Parables and
Psalms, but said that as a whole the Scriptures were not fit to be put
into the hands of people in general. Mrs. Fry departed from this "home
of mystery and darkness," very unsatisfied and sad. She next visited a
boys' prison, conducted by the Abbé Fisceaux, which excited her
admiration.
At the "Maison Pénitentiaire" at Geneva, the arrangements appeared to be
as complete as possible, and most praiseworthy. The treatment varied in
severity, according to the guilt of the criminals, who were divided into
four classes. They were in all cases there for long terms of
imprisonment, but were allowed either Catholic or Protestant versions of
the Scriptures, according to their faith. After paying short visits to
Lausanne, Berne, and Zurich, the party returned home.
As her life passed on and infirmities grew apace, it seemed that Mrs.
Fry's zeal and charity grew also, for she planned and schemed to do good
with never-flagging delight. Early in 1840, she departed again for the
Continent, accompanied this time by her brother, Samuel Gurney, and his
daughter, by William Allen and Lucy Bradshaw. During this journey and a
subsequent one, she had much intercourse with royal and noble
personages. At Brussels they had a pleasant audience of the King, who
held an interesting conversation with them on the state of Belgian
prisons. A large prison for boys at Antwerp specially drew forth their
commendations; it seemed admirably arranged and conducted, while every
provision was made for the instruction and improvement of the lads. At
Hameln, in Hanover, they found one of the opposite class, a men's
prison, containing about four hundred inmates, but all heavily chained
"to the ground, until they would confess their crimes, whether they had
committed them or not." One wonders if this treatment still prevails in
the Hameln of Robert Browning's ballad. At Hanover they waited on the
Queen by special command, and during a long interview many interesting
and important subjects were brought forward.
At Berlin they were received by royalty in the most cordial way. Mrs.
Fry's niece, in a letter, gives a vivid account of the assembly at the
royal palace specially invited to meet the Quakeress and her party.
The Princess William has been very desirous to give her sanction,
as far as possible, to the Ladies' Committee for visiting the
prison, that my aunt had been forming; and, to show her full
approbation, had invited the Committee to meet her at her palace.
So imagine about twenty ladies assembling here, at our hotel, at
half-past twelve o'clock to-day, beautifully dressed; and, further
fancy us all driving off and arriving at the palace. The Princess
had also asked some of her friends, so we must have numbered about
forty. Such a party of ladies, and only our friend Count Gröben to
interpret. The Princess received us most kindly, and conducted us
herself to the top of the room; we talked some time, whilst
awaiting the arrival of other members of the royal family. The
ladies walked about the suite of rooms for about half an hour,
taking chocolate, and waiting for the Crown Princess, who soon
arrived. The Princess Charles was also there, and the Crown Prince
himself soon afterwards entered. I could not but long for a
painter's eye to have carried away the scene. All of us seated in
that beautiful room, our aunt in the middle of the sofa, the Crown
Prince and Princess and the Princess Charles on her right; the
Princess William, the Princess Marie, and the Princess Czartoryski
on the left; Count Gröben sitting near her to interpret, the
Countesses Böhlem and Dernath by her. I was sitting by the Countess
Schlieffen, a delightful person, who is much interested in all our
proceedings. A table was placed before our aunt, with pens, ink,
and paper, like other committees, with the various rules our aunt
and I had drawn up, and the Countess Böhlem had translated into
German, and which she read to the assembly. After that my aunt gave
a concise account of the societies in England, commencing every
fresh sentence with "If the Prince and Princesses will permit."
When business was over, my aunt mentioned some texts, which she
asked leave to read. A German Bible was handed to Count Gröben, the
text in Isaiah having been pointed out that our good aunt had
wished for, "Is not this the fast that I have chosen," etc. The
Count read it, after which our aunt said, "Will the Prince and
Princesses allow a short time for prayer?" They all bowed assent
and stood, while she knelt down and offered one of her touching,
heart-felt prayers for them--that a blessing might rest on the
whole place, from the King on his throne to the poor prisoner in
the dungeon; and she prayed especially for the royal family; then
for the ladies, that the works of their hands might be prospered in
what they had undertaken to perform. Many of the ladies now
withdrew, and we were soon left with the royal family. They all
invited us to see them again, before we left Berlin, and took leave
of us in the kindest manner.
One result of the reception accorded Mrs. Fry by royalty was the
amelioration of the condition of the Lutherans. It came about in this
way: in the course of her inquiries and intercourse among the people of
the Prussian dominions, she discovered that adherents to the Lutheran
Church were subject to much petty persecution on behalf of their faith.
True they were not dealt with so cruelly as in former times, but
frequently, at that very day, they were imprisoned, or suffered the loss
of property because of their religious opinions. The matter lay heavily
on Mrs. Fry's benevolent heart, and, seizing the opportunity, she spoke
to the Crown Prince at the meeting just described, on the behalf of the
persecuted Christians. The Crown Prince listened most attentively, and
advised her to lay the matter before the King in any way she deemed
proper. A petition was therefore drawn up by William Allen, translated
into German, and with much fear and trembling presented to His Majesty.
The following day the King's chaplain was sent bearing the "delightful
intelligence" that the petition had been received; further, the King had
said that "he thought the Spirit of God must have helped them to express
themselves as they had done."
About this time we find the following entry in her journal: "I have been
poorly enough to have the end of life brought closely before me, and to
stimulate me in faith to do _quickly_ what my Lord may require me."
Accordingly, engagements and undertakings multiplied, and 1841 witnessed
another brief visit to the continent of Europe. She seemed more and more
to get the conviction that she must lose no time while about her
Master's business, and such her prison, asylum and hospital labors most
assuredly were. The shadows of life's evening were gathering around her,
and heart and flesh beginning to fail, but no efforts of charity or
mercy might be found lacking.
On this visit her brother, Joseph John Gurney, and two nieces
accompanied her. Soon after arriving at the Hague, Mrs. Fry and Mr.
Gurney, being introduced to the King by Prince Albert, were commanded to
attend at a royal audience. This the travellers did, and, after about an
hour's conversation, departed highly gratified. Another day they spent
some time with the Princess of Orange, the Princess Frederick, and other
members of the royal house: all these personages were anxious to hear
about the work of prison reform, and to aid in it. After this they
departed for Amsterdam, Bremen, and other places; but their journey
resembled a triumphal progress more than anything else. The peasantry
followed the carriage shouting Mrs. Fry's name, and begging for tracts.
Sometimes, in order to get away, she was compelled to shake hands with
them all, and speak a few words of kindly greeting.
They extended the journey into Denmark, and were treated with marked
honor from the first. The Queen engaged apartments for the travellers at
the Hotel Royal, and on some occasions took Mrs. Fry to see schools and
other places, in her own carriage. On a subsequent day, when dining with
the King and Queen, Mrs. Fry and Mr. Gurney laid before their Majesties
the condition of persecuted Christians; the sad state of prisons in his
dominions; they also referred to the slavery in the Danish colonies in
the West Indies. Mr. Gurney having only recently returned from that part
of the world, he had much to tell respecting the spiritual and social
state of those colonies. Mrs. Fry records that at dinner she was placed
between the King and Queen, who both conversed very pleasantly with her.
At Minden, they had varied experiences of travelling and travellers'
welcomes. "I could not but be struck," says Mrs. Fry in her journal,
"with the peculiar contrast of my circumstances: in the morning
traversing the bad pavement of a street in Minden, with a poor, old
Friend in a sort of knitted cap close to her head; in the evening
surrounded by the Prince and Princesses of a German Court." The members
of the Prussian royal family were anxious to see her and hear from her
own lips an account of her labors in the cause of humanity. The
representatives of the House of Brandenburgh welcomed Mrs. Fry beyond
her most sanguine expectations; indeed, it would be nearer the truth to
say that in her lowly estimate of herself, she almost dreaded to
approach royal or noble personages, and that therefore she craved for no
honor, but only tolerance and favor. She never sought an interview with
any of these personages, but to benefit those who could not plead for
themselves. Her letters home exhibit no pride, boastfulness, or triumph;
all is pure thankfulness that one so unworthy as she deemed herself to
be should accomplish so much. Writing to her grandchildren she says:
"We dined at the Princess William's with several of the royal
family. The Queen came afterwards and appeared much pleased at my
delight on hearing that the King had stopped religious persecutions
in the country, and that several other things had been improved
since our last visit. It is a very great comfort to believe that
our efforts for the good of others have been blessed. Yesterday we
paid a very interesting visit to the Queen, then to Prince
Frederick of Holland and his Princess, sister to the King of
Prussia; with her we had much serious conversation upon many
important subjects, as we also had with the Queen.... Although
looked up to by all, they appear so humble, so moderate in
everything. I think the Christian ladies on the Continent dress far
more simply than those in England. The Countess appeared very
liberal, but extravagant in nothing. To please us she had apple
dumplings, which were quite a curiosity; they were really very
nice. The company stood still before and after dinner, instead of
saying grace. We returned from our interesting meeting at the
Countess's, about eleven o'clock in the evening. The royal family
were assembled and numbers of the nobility; after a while the King
and Queen arrived, the poor Tyrolese flocked in numbers. I doubt
such a meeting ever having been held anywhere before,--the curious
mixture of all ranks and conditions. My poor heart almost failed
me. Most earnestly did I pray for best help, and not unduly to fear
man. The royal family sat together, or nearly so; the King and
Queen, Princess William, and Princess Frederick, Princess Mary,
Prince William, Prince Charles, Prince Frederick of the
Netherlands, young Prince William, besides several other princes
and princesses not royal. Your uncle Joseph spoke for a little
while, explaining our views on worship. Then I enlarged upon the
changes that had taken place since I was last in Prussia; mentioned
the late King's kindness to these poor Tyrolese in their affliction
and distress; afterwards addressed these poor people, and then
those of high rank, and felt greatly helped to speak the truth to
them in love. They finished with a hymn."
Her last brief visit to the Continent was paid in 1843, and spent wholly
in Paris. Mrs. Fry was particularly interested in French prisons, as
well as in the measures designed to ameliorate the condition of those
who tenanted them. Reformation had become the order of the day there as
in England; the Duchess of Orleans, the Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg, M.
Guizot, the Duc de Broglie, M. de Tocqueville, M. Carnot, and other high
and noble personages were much interested in the subject. A bill to
sanction the needful reforms was introduced to the Chamber of Deputies
by the Minister of the Interior, and ably supported by him in a speech
of great lucidity and power. Said he, when laying it before the Chamber:
"Our subject is not entirely to sequestrate the prisoner nor to confine
him to absolute solitude. Some of the provisions of the bill will
mitigate the principle of solitary confinement in a manner which was
suggested by the Commission of 1840, and should not pass unnoticed by
the Chamber. Convicts sentenced to more than twelve years' hard labor,
or to perpetual hard labor, after having gone through twelve years of
their punishment, or when they shall have attained
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