Elizabeth Fry | Page 5

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