That same year in late autumn, her dear father-in-law Fry was at Mildred's Court, very ill; and he died there, being carefully and tenderly nursed by his daughter-in-law. She also, at risk to her own family, went to nurse her sister Hannah, in what turned out to be scarlet fever, about which she says, that "she did not know what malady it was when she went; and that she was the only sister then at liberty to wait on her." Through God's mercy, no harm came to her own family from being there, and no one else took the complaint. "This I consider," she says, "a great outward blessing. May I be enabled to give thanks, and to prove my thankfulness by more and more endeavouring to give up body, soul, and spirit, to the service of my beloved Master."
In February, 1809, she and her husband left Mildred's Court to occupy the house at Plashet; to her a pleasant change from the smoke and din of the great city. Here, her sixth child, a boy, was born in autumn of that year. Shortly afterwards she was summoned to Earlham, where she witnessed the death of her own father. It was a heavy blow to her, but she had the satisfaction of finding that his mind was at peace when he drew near his end. "He frequently expressed that he feared no evil, but believed that, through the mercy of God in Christ, he should be received in glory; his deep humility, and the tender and loving state he was in, were most valuable to those around him. He encouraged us, his children, to hold on our way; and sweetly expressed his belief that our love of good (in the degree we had it) had been a stimulus and help to him." At the meeting before the funeral she resolved to say nothing, but her uncle Joseph spoke words of comfort and encouragement; and then she could not refrain from falling on her knees, and exclaiming, "Great and marvellous are Thy works, Lord God Almighty; just and true are all Thy ways, Thou King of saints; be pleased to receive our thanksgiving." She could say no more, though intending to express thankfulness on her beloved father's account. The great tenderness of her uncle gratified her, "and my husband," she adds, "has been a true helpmate and sweet counsellor."
VIII.
WORK AT PLASHET
As soon as they were settled at Plashet, Elizabeth Fry formed and carried out various plans for the poor. She established a girls' school for the parish of East Ham, of which Plashet is a hamlet. The clergyman and his wife gave their help, and a school of about seventy girls was soon busily at work. The bodily wants of the poor claimed her attention. A depot of calico and flannel was always ready, besides outer garments. There was a cupboard well stocked with medicines. In the winter, hundreds of the destitute poor had the benefit of a soup kitchen, the boiler of an outhouse being applied to this use. About half a mile off, on the high road between Stratford and Ilford, there was a colony of Irish, dirty and miserable, as such settlements in England usually are. Some she induced to send their children to school, and, with the consent of the priest, circulated the Bible among them. Once when the weather was extremely cold, and great distress prevailed, being at the time too delicate to walk, she went alone to Irish Row, in the carriage literally piled with flannel petticoats for the poor women, others of the party at Plashet walking to meet her and help in the distribution. Her children were trained as almoners very young, and she expected them to give an exact account of what they gave, and their reasons for giving. She was a very zealous and practical advocate for vaccination, having been taught by the celebrated Dr. Willan, one of the earliest and most successful followers of Dr. Jenner.
It was an annual custom for numbers of gipsies to pitch their tents in a green lane near Plashet, for a few days, on their way to Fairlop Fair. The sickness of a child causing the mother to apply for relief, led Elizabeth Fry to visit the camp; and ever after she was gladly welcomed by the poor wanderers, to whom she gave clothing and medicines, and friendly faithful counsel. To those who could read she gave Bibles or Testaments, and little books or pictures to the children. Thus she ever abounded in good works for the benefit of others. All this she did in intervals snatched from home duties, there being in the house a constant succession of company and employments to occupy her. For her children she prayed that they might grow in favour with their Heavenly Father, by walking in humility and in the fear of God.
Such was the routine of work and duty at Plashet for several years after she went to live there. She had interruption from various illnesses in her family, five of her children being ill at one time; at other times overbusied with domestic duties, as many as eighteen, in addition to the family, once sleeping at the house. At the time of the Yearly Meeting she had to entertain many visitors in London at Mildred's Court. There were also occasional visits to Norfolk, during one of which she took active part in founding the Norfolk and Norwich Bible Society. The meeting at which this was inaugurated in 1811 was a most successful one. Old Bishop Bathurst spoke with much decision and liberality, and he was supported by many of the clergy, and ministers of all denominations, the Mayor of Norwich presiding. About £700 was subscribed at the meeting. Mr. Joseph Hughes, one of the secretaries, who, with his venerable colleague Dr. Steinkopff, arranged the meeting, in an account written of it, speaks of "a devout address by a female minister, Elizabeth Fry, whose manner was impressive, and whose words were so appropriate, that none present can ever forget the incident, or even advert to it without emotions alike powerful and pleasing. The first emotion was surprise; the second, awe; the third, pious fervour." Such was the impression made by the hearty words spoken by Elizabeth Fry.
IX.
FIRST SIGHT OF NEWGATE PRISON
It was in 1813 that the attention of Elizabeth Fry was first directed to the condition of female prisoners in Newgate. At the beginning of that year four members of the Society of Friends had visited some persons about to be executed. One of the visitors, William Forster, asked Mrs. Fry if nothing could be done to alleviate the sufferings of the women, then living in the most miserable condition. The state of the prison was at that time disgraceful to a civilised country, even after all John Howard's labours. There were about three hundred women, with many children, crowded in four small rooms, badly lighted, badly ventilated, and with no bedding or furniture. They slept on the floor, some of the boards of which were partially raised, to supply a sort of pillow for rest; and here, in rags and dirt, the poor creatures cooked, washed, and lived. Prisoners, tried and untried, misdemeanants and felons, young and old, were huddled together, without any attempt at classification, and without any employment, and with no other superintendence than was given by one man and his son, who had charge of them by night and by day. When strangers appeared amongst them, there was an outburst of clamorous begging, and any money given went at once to purchase drink from a regular tap in the prison. There was no discipline of any sort, and very little restraint over their communication with the outside world, beyond what was necessary for safe custody. Oaths and bad language assailed the ear, and every imaginable horror distressed the eye of a stranger admitted to this pandemonium. Although military sentinels were posted on the roof of the prison, such was the lawlessness prevailing, that even the governor dreaded having to go to the female prisoners' quarters.
Into this scene, accompanied only by Anna Buxton, did Elizabeth Fry enter. Nothing was at the first visit done but giving warm clothing to the most destitute; William Forster having told of the wretchedness caused by the severity of the cold that January of 1813. What was then witnessed of the sad and neglected condition of these women and children sank deeply into the heart of the visitors, and Mrs. Fry formed the resolution to devote herself, as soon as circumstances permitted, to the work of prison reform, and improvement of the condition of female prisoners.
The work was not wholly new to her. When not sixteen years of age, she was deeply interested in the House of Correction in Norwich, and by her repeated and earnest persuasion she induced her father to allow her to visit it. She never forgot her experience there, and she afterwards said that it laid the foundation of her future greater work.
Several years were yet to elapse before the time came for taking up seriously the cause of prisons. These years were crowded with events of various kinds, both in the great world and in the little