A brief sketch of the life of Anna Backhouse, by one who knew her well, loved her much, and was often instructed by her

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BX 7745 .B15 A3 1852 Gurney, Eliza Paul

A brief sketch of the life

Chapter I

We so rarely meet with instances of youthful piety, so often may it be sorrowfully said of those in early life, " all seek their own, not the things which are Jesus Christ's ; " that when eminent young Christians are taken from us, and no record is made of their instructive histories, we feel that the Church is robbed of her due, and an opportunity is lost of magnifying " the exceeding riches of the grace of God," which made them what they were.

Such are the convictions which have induced the writer, to attempt a little sketch of the life and character of Anna Backhouse, chiefly compiled from her letters, journals, etc. She was the daughter of Joseph John and Jane Gurney, and was born at Earlham, near Norwich, the 21st of 12th month, 1820. Endowed by nature with more than ordinary talent, she had also the great advantage of the most minute care and refined culture ; and ample was the compensation she made for all the pains

BRIEP SKETCH OP that were bestowed upon her. Her beloved mother died while she was quite in her infancy ; but she had the high privilege of being, first, the pupil, and afterward, the intimate companion of her gifted father and aunts ; from whose rich stores of varied information, and still richer treasuries of heavenly lore, her vigorous and thirsting spirit did not fail to draw abundant and continuous supplies. To all these beloved relatives, she was closely attached. Their will was her law in early childhood, and, in after life, her unremitting attention to their wishes, and earnest solicitude to promote their welfare in every way, were strikingly beautiful. Her love for her only brother was also exceedingly strong ; and, though fifteen months his junior, her watchful care over him, and constant anxiety on his account, when he was about to enter on the busy stage of life, were truly maternal. Indeed, in the rigid fulfilment of her relative duties she seemed to forget herself; and being of a slight and delicate frame, there is little doubt that her health was affected, and her constitution impaired by the too frequent demands that were made upon her sympathy; the mind and body acting and reacting on each other, before her powers were sufficiently matured to bear the stress so early laid upon them. This greatly added to the natural refinement and delicacy of her whole appearance ; and one's first thought on seeing her, was, that she was not long to be a dweller in this vale of tears, but was " heir to a holier inheritance." On con-

ANNA BACKHOUSE.

versing with her, the impression was confirmed. In the soft and subdued tones of her voice, the sweetness and gentleness of her manner, the unnatural brightness of her hazel eye, and the amiability and loveliness of her disposition, this youthful Christian confessed herself " a stranger and a pilgrim on the earth, seeking a better country." The compiler of this little sketch, who knew her intimately for several years, never saw a shade of anger or discontent pass over her lovely, intellectual countenance. However clouds might gather on the brows around her, her beaming face maintained its undisturbed serenity ; and she was truly an unfailing cheerer, comforting all who were in any sorrow — may we not reverently say — with the rich consolation wherewith she herself was comforted of God. Some extracts from her later journal, which it is designed to insert in this little memoir will evince that this is not the language of partial affection ; but that this dear child was indeed remarkably disciplined in the school of Christ, taught of her gracious Lord !

In her father's second marriage, her loss of maternal care and tenderness, was, for a time, most happily supplied ; but, in her fifteenth year, she was deprived by death of a mother, around whom her ardent affections were closely entwined. This might be said to be her first acquaintance with sorrow, as she was not old enough to realize her loss, when her own beloved mother died ; and very bitter was the unlooked for trial to her loving young heart : but,

BREEF SKETCH OF with characteristic disinterestedness, she soon lost sight of her own share in the bereavement, in the fulness of her sympathy for the honoured parent who had to drink the cup of bitterness to the very dregs. From this time, she became his confidential companion and bosom friend. A stronger tie has, perhaps, not often subsisted between father and daughter, than the one which bound them together. So close, indeed, was their union, that it is believed she never recovered from the shock of hearing of his sudden removal from this changing scene. May it not be said, in the beautiful words of the inspired writer ? —

They were lovely and pleasant in their lives, And in death they Mere not divided."

In her simple and touching reminiscences of this beloved parent, she says :

" We were exceedingly fond of our father. At the same time, Ids loord icas law. It never entered our minds, I believe, openly to disobey him ; and I am reported to have been in the habit of informing visitors, that papa required * implicit obedience.'

" We were very little children, when he began occasionally to take us into his study, for times of religious retirement and prayer. After sitting a short time in sUence, he would often kneel down, and pour forth his prayers in the most simple words he could use. I think I shall never forget the very great solemnity, the holy, and, to me, as a little child, the almost awful feeling of some of these occasions ! We continued this practice, at times, till he went to America ;

AiSTNA BACKHOITSE.

and I well remeinlber, that, when he gave us some parting religious advice, he spoke with comfort of these seasons of retii-ement; and said, that he hoped he had, in some measure, fulfilled his paternal duty, in endeavouring to train us in the liahit of prayer. It was a subject he constantly pressed on our attention ; begging us, also, to be most regular in reading the Scriptures to ourselves, morning and evening, and in endeavoring to wait upon the Lord. Having mentioned this, I think I must not omit another subject, which he also very frequently pressed upon our minds, so that they are connected in mine, as those on which he spoke to us the most often, and the most earnestly : this was, the immediate and perceptible guidance of the Holy Spirit — a doctrine which he endeavom-ed to explain to us, and the practical application of which he tried to make us feel^ even at a very early age — ' the golden clue,' as he called it ; a clue by which he was himself led, both in small things and great, more than any other person I ever knew."

Can we for a moment doubt, that the watchful care and religious training, to which allusion is thus incidentally made, were remarkably and permanently blessed to the spiritual benefit of this dear child ? and that, under the cherishing influence of the dews of Heaven, they produced those lovely Christian fruits, for which she was so conspicuous ? And may it not act as a stimulus to those who are entrusted with the education of the young, to endeavour, both by precept and example, to " bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord"? In the same little sketch of her father, she says :

"Often, while we were taking a ramble in the park, a2

BRTEP SKETCH OF he would endeavour to impress upon us the great doctrines of Christianity, and especially the peculiar views and principles of Friends. He was quite strict with us about using the plain language ; and before we could fully understand the reason for it, the habit was completely established ; so that, though we were continually with people not Friends, we never had the least difficulty in using it. I believe he never passed it over, without reproving us, if he thought we transgressed his rules in this respect. But, while he thus endeavoured to cultivate a taste for our own peculiar path, he was always ready to acknowledge the good in those who did not in every thing agree with him j and freely allowed us to associate with the great variety of guests, who at this time frequented Earlham."

Alluding to his " paternal care and anxiety " for his children, she relates a little circumstance, which is too closely connected with her early history, and too illustrative of her youthful training, to be omitted here. She says ;

" Most bitterly did he suffer, if he saw us, even as children, doing any thing really wrong. I painfully remember the sorrow of seeing him weep, when I was very young, because he thought I had been persevering in a falsehood. It was a punishment far greater than any other he could inflict, and I entreated him to let me go away from him.

" In connexion with the same occurrence, he had a family sitting, in which he prayed, that ' my heart of stone might be taken away, and a heart of flesh given me.' Soon afterward I was in a sad state of mind, and could not bear myself without speaking to papa. Though he was engaged with company, he came most kindly to my bedside, and soothed

ANNA BACKHOUSE.

and comforted me, begging me to look to the Saviour : < Dost thou believe he died for thee ?' I remember his asking me.

"This circumstance was the means of increasing my extreme reverence for my father ; all my feelings became more tender towards him, after having caused him so much pain ; and I felt the value of such a friend, when my young mind was oppressed with the sense of sin."

A letter to the dear child on this occasion, written in a large hand, that it might be easily read (for she was only eight years old), evinces how earnestly he endeavoured to make her feel the extent of her transgression, and the magnitude of the offence of the slightest want of integrity, even in little things :

"Earlham, 1st month, 10th, 1829.

" My dearest little Anna :

" Now that we are coming to the end of this painful week, I feel very serious, and very thoughtful about my darling child.

" She well knows what a deep wound she inflicted on her dear papa, and how many bitter tears she made him shed. For what can grieve a parent like the sin of a child ?

" May he now believe that she will never grieve him so again ?

"Is she resolved to be a truly honest girl for the future ?

BEIEF SKETCH OF

" Does she now feel what a dreadful sin, a lie is ? and will she humbly endeavour for ever to avoid it ?

" I wish thee to answer this letter while I am at Norwich ; but be sure not to say one word more than thou really feels ; for this would only make bad, worse.

" Ah ! my dear child, be assured, that there is no happiness to be found in anything, but in truQ virtue and in the FEAR of GOD.

" I am thy tenderly loving father,

"Jos. Jno. Gurney."

The following letter, dated a year or two later,, will tend to shew, that her beloved father made use of suitable opportunities for commending, as well as reproving her :

" Manchester, 4tli month, lOth, 1832. My dearest Anna :

" Although my engagements are most pressing, it would be a shame, if I did not tell thee how delighted I have been by the good tidings I have received, after some anxiety, which the first account of thy measles occasioned me.

''I do consider it cause for humble gratitude to the Author of all good ; and I have also been much gratified by the account of thy conduct under it, my darling child. I feel very much indebted to thy cousins, F. and R. Cressw-ell, for their great kindness. I am sure R. C. would be

ANNA BACKHOUSE.

like a mother to thee. I am well and happy, though very busy ; and with dearest love to you all,

" I am thy attached father,

J. J. GrURNEY.

CHAPTER n.

When quite young, A. B. commenced a journal, noting the occurences of every day, and not unfrequently entering into close and serious self-examination, as in the presence of that Holy and All-seeing One, who looketh at the heart. This practice was continued till the close of her brief career ; but it is to be regretted that her earlier memoranda (which would have given some insight into the gradual devetopement of her youthful Christian character) appear to have been destroyed. Those which the editor has in possession, commence in 1837, when, she was just sixteen.

JOURNAL.

"1837. Christmas Day. — I have long wished to resume my Journal, which I left off, at the end of 1835. In 1836, I travelled with Papa, Aunt R. P., and John Henry, to the north of England, Scotland, &c. ; and Papa was my chief object through that year. The same, till the middle of this, when he left us, and is now in America — thus, once more, seeming to alter everything. I am deeply, and almost awfully, responsible for the many privileges I had, in being so constantly, and so intimately, with him. John Henry is, or ought to be, now my chief object; though, since Papa went, I have been much taken from that, and everything, by Aunt K. F.'s serious and dangerous illness. She is recovered, however, and, once more, all is smooth. I hope to go on constantly with this Journal now. As to my religious condition, I have often very much desired to be wholly given up to God.

" 12 mo., 26f7i. — I do desire it, but my heart is very wicked ; and I am not half sensible enough of it. My sins are very numerous ; and it is only in Jesus, that I can have hope. I have a little hope in Him ; and I believe I do now bring all my sins before Him, and, for His sake, ask forgiveness. Oh ! that I may have grace given me, to overcome the wickedness of my heart, and now, to devote myself to the service of my Heavenly Father. My meetings are so bad. They are my great difficulties; and the wandering thoughts in them, I might almost call one of my besetting sins. Castles in the air — follies in thought beyond telling — have I, when I am professing to worship God ! I have great need, truly, to be humble ; but I am very proud. I am enjoying a quiet morning reading, and writing out some prophecies, read over old Journals, &c.

"27th. — Uncle Gurney, Aunt Fry, and Priscilla arrived. Most pleasant to see them.

^29th. — After breakfast, nice walk with the three girls

ANNA BACKHOtJSE.

and TJncle G. Some way alone with Uncle, talking about plans, our going to London, &c. I was provoked at myself, for being quite low ; he was so like Papa ; but it was most delightful being with him. After we came in, a nice reading with Aunt Fry ; another walk, poetry, then dined at Uncle Bkkbeck's ; met Jane Barclay and Ann Backhouse ; nice little talk with A. B. ; slept with Aunt Fry ; talked about our plans, very satisfactory.

"18.58. 1st mo., 7fh. — Had to change tickets at the school, so that I had no Bible-reading with the children. How I do wish I was more inclined to serious tlionght. How much depends on these thoughts ; in words and actions one may escape much apparent sin, for a little time, but in thoughts never ! at least, so I find it.

"\st day, l^th. — After meeting, two delightful letters from Papa, bringing accounts for which we ought to be — I hope are — truly thankful. What a mercy to be permitted to receive such ! This, and dearest J. H.'s sweetness this evening, make me feel thankful to a good God, who is merciful to such an unworthy creature as I am. May I feel His goodness, and my wickedness, more and more. I wish I had more time for Bible-reading in the morning. I wiU try, and make an effort to get it before breakfast this next week; but I am so lazy. Especial mercies of this week — accounts of Papa's prospering, J. H. going on satisfactorily, Aunt C. comfortable. Aunt R. F. continuing well. The greatest I can have in our circumstances ; I can wish for no gi'eater.

" My Return to the Givee :

" Neglect entire, often.

" CoW^ when habit recalls me to some thought. " Not serving Him with my whole heart. " Constant disobeying of His commands. "Not one thing done this week, with my sole end in it— His glory,

" This is how I stand with regard to my Creator, though I have not mentioned one millionth part of his mercies. The gi-eatest is not mentioned, nor nearly all my faults^ Do I deserve these mercies then ? Oh, no ! All I can do is to pray for forgiveness, for the sake of Jesus Christ.

"2(? mo., 14^7i, 1838. — Letters from America most interesting and delightful; wanderings in Carolina and Virginia; many things I wrote about, he has taken no notice of, when I expected he would. The fact is, separation is separation ; and it is, after aU, but a poor notion of one's real state, that letters sent across the Atlantic, convey. I must, in future, set my account more for it. We have the greatest cause to be thankful for such letters."

On returning from London, she writes :

"5<7i mo., \%tli. — "We are all comfortable; Aunt Rachel nicely. I am trying to think seriously this evening, what are my duties in coming home ?

" I — My Highest Duties : " 1st. A constant watchfulness.

" 2d. A constant prayerfulness.

ANNA BACKHOUSE.

" 3d. Regular reading and prayer, twice a day at least.

"4th. Keeping his glory, not my own vain ambition in view, in anything I do, in societies, &c.

"5th. Worship at meeting. I might mention many, many more ; indeed everything I do is, I know, a duty to God ; and here, though all are included in this, I wish just to mention my especial duties to each of our little circle. " II — To John Henry :

" 1st. Never to Tse out of temper with him.

"2d. Thoughtfulness to please in little things.

" 3d. Never to offend, if I can help it.

"4th. To use a right influence in a right way.

" 5th. To lose no good opportunity of intimacy — on religious subjects especially.

" III — To Aunt Catherine : " 1st. Patience with everything.

" 2d. Thoughtfulness to please in little things. " 3d. To attend to her, at the sacrifice of my own little pleasures, or even employments.

" IV— To Aunt R. F. : " 1st. To subdue the least feeling in myself of jealousy or pride, in little matters especially. "2d. To watch to please her.

" 3d. To aim at comforting and helping her, and not to oppose her, for the sake of having my own way.

" V— To Visitors.

" 1st. A general kindness.

" 2d. No selfishness.

" 3d. To do my best to use a right influence.

" 4th. To get all the good I can from their example.

"5th mo., 17 th. — Strange to say, I feel that duties to

B my God are harder to be performed than duties to my fellow creatures. And yet, how far more do I owe to God than to my dearest connections ! May I have grace this week to serve Him, and do my duty to them also. Suppose it all done, I am but an unprofitable servant. I know it will not be, for I am very wicked. Where can I go for help, but to Jesus Christ ? Yet there, my want of love staggers me. Oh, Lord ! cleanse me by thy spirit from the guilt and power of sin ; make me very humble. I trust I have written this not without some solemnity.

"20th,Jirst day. — I have failed in aU, under the first head; but, perhaps, the third duty; the fourth, I have not had much opportunity of keeping, or the contrary; the fifth duty, every day at reading I have sadly neglected. My second head. — J. H. has been a good deal out, and 1 do not remember any conspicuous instance of failure. Third head. — To Aunt Catherine, I am always rather deficient — have been several times out of temper ; but she has been out the end of this week. Fourth head. — Have had many feelings of pride and jealousy, but endeavour to subdue them, and have sometimes been very happy with Aunt R. ; my own fault when the contrary, which has scarcely been at all. Fifth head. — E. G. left us on 5th day. She is so unselfish herself, that it has tempted me to be idle about it. On the whole, I have had a happy week. My greatest fault, a constant forgetfulness of my God, and a coldness in devotional duties, which cannot imply that love which I ought to have. I am, indeed, very bad. I think I do feel some comfort in the remembrance, that there i& a "sacrifice for sin."

ANNA BACKHOUSE.

"Let nothing be done through strife, or vain glory; but in lowliness of mind, let each esteem other better than themselves. Look not every man on his own things, but every man also on the things of others." In these texts, three things shewn to be avoided — Vanity, Pride, Selfishness. That I may come to a clear sense of my own deficiency, let me note down, for this week, my failure in each, beginning with to-day.

In the morning meeting, was more full of nonsensical fancies of greatness for myself, than of worship. This is the worst sort of vain glory. At the school did not do my lesson clearly with the children ; but was more vexed that I failed, than that they would not understand. Afternoon meeting, a repetition of the morning; spoke highly to Susan Gapp, because I did not want the trouble of noticing her. I did not esteem her better than myself, then. Have had vain thoughts while writing this.

"2<Z day. — Vain of having done weU at the Babur school; never answered aunt when she said the tea was weak. Cross at German. Been thinking follies about myself, instead of Bible-reading, this evening.

" But Pride destroys all, even affection. Oh ! that this awful sin may be subdued, that humility may reign in my soul — that the lofty things may indeed be brought low. Oh ! that I may watch and pray against it,"

A letter, written to her beloved father, when just on the point of completing his mission to America, is so characteristic of the writer, and does so much credit to her head and heart, that the editor is unwilling to withhold it. It should be remembered she had not yet attained her twentieth year;

BRIEF SKETCH OS

"Earlpiam, 5th mo., 28th, 1840

" My dearest Papa : —

"The steamer that goes on the 4th of next month, tempts me to send thee a few lines, beside our usual journal ; and ' for that purpose I take a sheet all to myself ; for I want to write to thee quite freely. We have received thy two most interesting letters ; the fii-st, giving an account of thy stay at Cuba, &c., and the second, of Savannah, and thy arrival at Charleston. In reference to the first, I will now simply say, that I trust we are most thankful for the mercy of thy deliverance in that fearful storm, which is quite terrible only to read of. In the second, thou draws a picture of what thou expects us to be. The standard thou sets before us is indeed a high one ; and I feel, as concerns myself, it is one that it woidd be a great thing even to approach. That letter, however, confirms me in the desire I have had for some time, to give thee a detailed account of our state and condition, as far as I know it, that thou may have some idea what thou wilt find on thy retui'n home- As that much longed for time approaches, I feel that it would be good that thou should have a clear understanding oT what we are nowj for it is not likely that in three years there is no change; particularly with regard to dearest J. H., I feel that this is desirable, and as I have avoided giving thee details in my late letters about him, I am now going to do it as truly as I can in every particular. In looking back at the last three years, I feel that we have much cause for thankfulness, as regards him, believing, as I do fully, that his state is decidedly improved.

Since thou left England, our circumstances have been peculiar. J. H. has been, in all minor points, so entirely his own master, and the strong tide of religious influence, which we had over us before thou left, has been succeeded by very little (or, at least, very little to what we, from our babyhood, have been accustomed to,) of anything of that sort. Perhaps I use a wrong word, when I say influence; we have had the influence of our dearest aunts, and of the whole family; but no teachings and talkings, &c., such as we used to have so constantly with thee. By our sorrows before thou left, our minds were so drawn out into unity (shall I call it ?) with thee, that we had a sort of reflected light from thee in those matters, that did not belong to us ; and a very short time after thou left, I felt, in myself, and I saw in J ohn Henry, a certain degree of relapse, or rather reaction. People might not have observed it in me, for I keep things closer much to myself than J. H. does ; and aunt's illness, &c., forced me back to the only comfort; but there was a certain swing in dearest J. H. in expression, and in thought, I believe, (though it was far more talk than anything else,) a certain distaste to anything religious, or, at least, to any talk about it, which, though the extent it went to, was really very small, made me uncomfortable. In connection with this, came rather an increase of the small faults, that thou remembers — sleeping in the evening, late in the morning, little inattentions to older persons, a state which I cannot quite describe — a sort of I don't care for nobody" state, and yet it was never to an extent that made any of the gentlemen of the family uncomfortable, or anything of that sort.

J. H. was never anything but perfectly steady, in banking, &c., and, indeed, the dread of his acquiring a love of money-making, was one of my troubles. I can b2 scarcely tell thee how he emerged from this; it was gradually; but I do know that this is not his condition now. This sort of thing is still his temptation, and, at times, a temptation that gets the better of him ; but it is balanced by a strong and, I do believe, a deepening religious principle — shown by his no longer avoiding the subject of religion in common conversation with us — ^by more private reading of the Bible — shown in many ways distinctly, and observed by us all. We have lately had many interesting conversations on Quakerism. He truly, delighted in Benjamin Seebohnv's ministry; and his attention to the Bible society, and his strong approval of other religious societies, are very pleasant to see. Still thou knows, my dearest father, that he does dislike " talk," and every now and then brings forward a proposition, quite startling if he thought what he said. I can explain what I mean. He much approves the dissemination of tracts and the Tract Society ; but he would not go to a Tract meeting, partly because he does not like the singing and prayer at the beginning, and partly because he dislikes the degree of talk at such times. He will attend any outof-the-way Bible meeting, and speak there strongly for it but he had rather not go to Bible meetings where he can be of no use, at least such as the Norwich ones. I mention this, that thou may not be surprised at any of his odd speeches, which arc, however, much less frequent than they used to be. I feel, dearest papa, that, on this most important point, there is veri/ great satisfaction, both as to his general religious feeling and as to his friendliness ; but he is in that state, as to both, and so out of the habit of intimate communication on these points, that thou wilt find that there ie a little care wanted, to let thy full tide of