To MRS. EDGEWORTH.
8 HOLLES STREET, March, 1822.
Your brother Francis is kind to us beyond description, and lets us take
him where we will; he dined with us at Mrs. Weddell's,—this dear old
lady copied last year in her seventy-second year a beautiful crayon
picture of Lady Dundas,—and here we met Lady Louisa Stuart, Mr. Stanley
of Alderley, and many others.
Yesterday we went the moment we had swallowed our breakfast,—N.B. superfine green tea given to us by Mrs. Taddy,—by appointment to Newgate. The private door opened at sight of our tickets, and the great doors and the little doors, and the thick doors, and doors of all sorts, were unbolted and unlocked, and on we went through dreary but clean passages, till we came to a room where rows of empty benches fronted us. A table on which lay a large Bible. Several ladies and gentlemen entered and took their seats on benches at either side of the table, in silence.
Enter Mrs. Fry in a drab-coloured silk cloak, and plain borderless
Quaker cap; a most benevolent countenance,—Guido-Madonna face,—calm, benign. "I must make an inquiry,—Is Maria Edgeworth here? and where?" I went forward; she bade us come and sit beside her. Her first smile as she looked upon me I can never forget.
The prisoners came in, and in an orderly manner ranged themselves on the
benches. All quite clean, faces, hair, caps, and hands. On a very low
bench in front, little children were seated and were settled by their
mothers. Almost all these women, about thirty, were under sentence of
transportation, some few only were for imprisonment. One who did not
appear was under sentence of death,—frequently women when sentenced to
death become ill, and unable to attend Mrs. Fry; the others come
regularly and voluntarily.
She opened the Bible, and read in the most sweetly solemn, sedate voice
I ever heard, slowly and distinctly, without anything in the manner that
could distract attention from the matter. Sometimes she paused to
explain, which she did with great judgment, addressing the convicts, "we have felt; we are convinced." They were very attentive, unaffectedly interested I thought in all she said, and touched by her manner. There was nothing put on in their countenances, not any appearance of hypocrisy. I studied their countenances carefully, but I could not see any which, without knowing to whom they belonged, I should have decided was bad; yet Mrs. Fry assured me that all those women had been of the worst sort. She confirmed what we have read and heard, that it was by their love of their children that she first obtained influence over these abandoned women. When she first took notice of one or two of their fine children, the mothers said that if she could but save their children from the misery they had gone through in vice, they would do anything she bid them. And when they saw the change made in their children by her schooling, they begged to attend themselves. I could not have conceived that the love of their children could have remained so strong in hearts in which every other feeling of virtue had so long been dead. The Vicar of Wakefield's sermon in prison is, it seems, founded on a deep and true knowledge of human nature,—"the spark of good is often smothered, never wholly extinguished."
Mrs. Fry often says an extempore prayer; but this day she was quite
silent while she covered her face with her hands for some minutes: the
women were perfectly silent with their eyes fixed upon her, and when she
said, "you may go," they went away slowly. The children sat quite
still the whole time,—when one leaned, the mother behind set her
upright.
Mrs. Fry told us that the dividing the women into classes has been of
the greatest advantage, and putting them under the care of monitors. There is some little pecuniary advantage attached to the office of monitor which makes them emulous to obtain it.
We went through the female wards with Mrs. Fry, and saw the women at
various works,—knitting, rug-making, etc. They have done a great deal
of needlework very neatly, and some very ingenious. When I expressed my
foolish wonder at this to Mrs. Fry's sister, she replied, "We have to
do, recollect, ma'am, not with fools, but with rogues."