Memoir and correspondence of Eliza P. Gurney

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Chapter I

Eliza Paul Kirkbride was the fifth daughter of Joseph and Mary Paul Kirkbride, of Philadelphia, and was born in that city Fourth mo. 6th, 1801.

But few memoranda remain of her early childhood. She attended Friends' Boarding-School at Westtown, Pennsylvania, about three years, from the age of eleven to fourteen. Two of her schoolmates at that time speak of her as being remarkably lovable, and a great favorite with all about her. Of quick perceptions and sanguine temperament, her disposition was characterized in early life by an impulsiveness almost approaching impatience. Her conclusions were rapidly formed, and stated with candor and frankness ; a tendency which, under the subduing influence of Divine grace in later years, contributed largely to her effective service in her field, of labor. The free correspondence among the scholars, which was encouraged by the teachers, tended much to promote the ready expression of their feelings, and many of these early friendships continued through life.

After leaving Westtown, E. P. Kirkbride lived with her sister, Frances M. Shoemaker, in Philadelphia, to whose house she frequently refers as a most happy home.

The most complete record of this period is contained in the following journal, commenced at the Grove, near Norwich, England, in 1857, and concluded at West Hill, Burlington, N. J. :

"At the urgent request of my precious departed friend, H. C. Backhouse, I once'penned a brief account of my early life, perhaps two hundred pages, but after it was done, I so shrank from the idea of its falling into the hands of a stranger or some indifferent person who would only criticise it, that I foolishly destroyed it, which I have often regretted since, as the history of my life, if faithfully written, would present as remarkable instances of the pardoning love and sparing mercies of our heavenly Father as have ever been exhibited in the journal of any individual. How often has He renewed the visitations of His

Holy Spirit, and how again and again have I rebelled against Him ! So that truly, in taking a retrospective glance at my past life, while I am bound to acknowledge gratefully that unto the Lord our God belong mercies and forgivenesses, I am also constrained to confess that unto me belongs nothing but shame and confusion of face, for had He not followed me all my life with His preserving and forbearing love, where had I been? 'Kept by the power of God.' Then may I bless and praise His name forever.

" Among my earliest recollections is the death of my dearest mother, which occurred, I believe, in the year 1807, at which time I was only just six years old ; yet I well remember being carried by the maid into a darkened room to see her dear remains, and also the feeling of childish sympathy which I had with my precious father, whose sad and altered countenance I fancy I can even now recall, after an interval of fifty years.

" I have also a most vivid recollection of his solemn footfall as he paced with measured steps his solitary chamber, and so strong was my affection for this honored parent, that I can truly say, even to the present time, my heart has ached at seasons in the remembrance of his sufferings at that awful hour. He was devotedly attached to my mother, and she was taken from him, as it were in a moment, in the twinkling of an eye, I believe in her forty-second year, leaving him with seven motherless children, the eldest not yet eighteen years of age. He never fully recovered his spirits after this sore bereavement, though he survived her- loss about eight years. My eldest sister took charge of the family; those who were old enough were sent to a boarding-school, my younger sister and myself remaining at home. In the course of a year or two, my sister Frances (who had now become a plain Friend) was married to Dr. Shoemaker, and my sister Julia came home from school to keep my father's house. I have a very pleasant impression of my childhood. It certainly was not a time of trial such as I have often heard this period of life described by others. My father was very indulgent, though firm in his treatment of us, and I remember always feeling it my pleasure as well as duty to obey him. To the best of my recollection, he never reproved me but once. When a very little girl, I had thrown myself on the floor in a pet, and was crying away tremendously, when he observed with perfect quietness, and yet somewhat upbraidingly, ' Don't be a booby.'

" I never shall forget the effect of this rebuke : it calmed me instantly ; and naughty as I may have been when out of sight, I think my father never saw

ELIZA P. GURNEY.

II me in a pet again. Bright is my recollection of my early home, a sunny, pleasant house on the green bank of the majestic Delaware, with a long grassy walk under fine dark, spreading cedars. The gardens and the orchards, too, I well remember, and the large cellars filled with rosy apples, nuts, sweet cider, and various other tempting articles, the fragrance of which I perfectly recall, even at this long distance of time. Well do I remember, too, the joy in the house on my sisters' return from boarding-school. Indeed, I think a brighter or a happier family party could not well be found. We had few associates in the neighborhood, but our friends and connections in the city were frequently with us, and I may truly say we were never lonely. My eldest sister was settled happily at Frankford, about two miles distant, and delightful it was to welcome her and her ' belongings' to the homestead, — a pleasure which we frequently enjoyed. How often have I watched and waited at the window, with the greatest eagerness, to see their carriage drive up to the door, and seized the first dear little niece with fear and trembling lest somebody should rob me of the treasure! With the exception of my maternal grandmother, my grandparents were deceased before my memory, perhaps before my birth, but well and vividly do I recall my aged grandmamma as she sat by her drawing-room window with knitting in hand, the picture of peaceful content and quiet happiness. Vividly, too, do I recall the cupboard in which she kept all sorts of tempting things, and how the pulses of my heart were quickened when she unlocked its stores. I think I see her now, the dear old lady, looking so dignified and yet so sweet and kind, her house a perfect pattern of good order, neatness, and (my impression is) of simple elegance. She was in fact a model housekeeper; possessing but a moderate income, she lived in real comfort. My uncle, Joseph Paul, a widower, resided with her and her two single daughters, Sarah and Martha; the former a most sensible, superior person, but rather deaf and in a deep decline, which lasted several years. I well remember hearing of her peaceful close during my stay at boarding-school ; and sincere was the sorrow I felt at the loss of this beloved and honored relative. In 1825 my uncle Paul was united in marriage to Hannah Lewis, a very valuable Friend and elder, who served as clerk to Philadelphia Yearly Meeting for more than twenty years. They were betrothed in 1820, a little while before dear William Forster's visit to America; but, as he wished my uncle to accompany him in the long pilgrimage through our land, the marriage was deferred five years, — surely a striking instance of self-sacrifice. My uncle,

ELIZA P. GURNEY. l ^

Joseph Paul, then took his place as guardian to his mother, and all these days are full of pleasant memories. Both my maternal uncles, John and Joseph Paul, stood high in the estimation of the community. A valued Friend once remarked to me, 'There are no two men in Philadelphia whom I would place before them for integrity and conscientiousness,' and I believe they well deserve this good opinion. But I am anticipating, and must go back a little in my history.

"I was born in Philadelphia in 1801, and shortly afterwards my parents removed to Chalkley Hall, — the former residence of Thomas Chalkley, — two or three miles from Bridesburg, which then became the happy home of our family for sixteen years, — a home to which my young heart clung with great tenacity. We sometimes spent our winters in Philadelphia, when I was sent to a very good school kept by Elizabeth Cox and her daughters ; one of whom told me some time afterwards she well remembered me a very straight, proud-looking child, to whom she was at times almost afraid to speak, though I could only have been eight or nine years old. This certainly was a mistake, as I am quite unconscious of ever having such a feeling in my heart; and I believe that what she called pride must have been a natural timidity.

" Towards the last of 1810 I was sent to Westtown School, where four of the family had been educated before me, and my sister Harriet remained another year, till my only younger sister was ready to join me. Here I spent three years very happily, and probably should have continued longer but for the serious illness of my precious father, which ended in his death in 18 16. My sister Julia and myself were his constant attendants, and she had the true comfort of witnessing his triumphant close, of which I was myself deprived in consequence of the illness and death of my sister Shoemaker's little babe, — a circumstance which I think I may say I have never since ceased to regret. It would have been such an especial privilege to hear him speak of his perfect trust in his God and Saviour, and declare with his dying breath that ' he would not exchange the sweet feeling of peace which filled his heart at that solemn moment for all the gold of Ophir.' My sister called it a blessed translation, and said it seemed as if the gates of heaven were opened to receive him. A few months after this our family dispersed. My brother John married, and brought his bride to our dear old home ; my sisters, Julia, Harriet, Sally Ann, and myself going to Philadelphia to live with our married sisters, Frances M. Shoemaker and Mary Ann Williams.

ELIZA P. GURNEY.

" Soon after, my sister Harriet was married to A. M. Howell, a son of Arthur Howell (a well-known minister of the Society of Friends), and her house became my home until her death, some six years afterwards, when she was taken from her husband and three lovely boys, in the twenty-sixth year of her age. Her disease was consumption, and it was very instructive to observe the wonderful change that was made by long-protracted suffering in this once gay and joyous being, whose life seemed almost like perpetual sunshine, until, in His tender mercy, the Lord was pleased to bring her low and let her see herself as she was seen of Him. After passing through a baptism of suffering such as I never witnessed in any other instance, her purified spirit was suddenly introduced into the glorious light and liberty of the children of God. The pattering rain was music in her ears, the balmy breezes like the breath of heaven, and she called upon us all in the most earnest and solemn manner to praise the Lord for His goodness and for His wonderful works to the children of men.

"After her death I had a truly pleasant and congenial home with my beloved and honored uncle, Joseph Paul, who acted the part of a loving and tender father until, in 1829, he finished his course with joy, and through the riches of redeeming mercy his gentle spirit was united to the just of all generations, washed and made white in the precious blood of the Lamb."

In 1827, E. P. Kirkbride entered into an engagement of marriage with John L. Howell, of Fancy Hill, near Woodbury, N. J., and a future of great promise appeared to await them. Of her appearance and character at this time, one of J. L. Howell's nieces writes :

" I know when I was a little child your dear aunt was constantly at our house in Philadelphia; she was so lovely that they used to laugh at my silent admiration of her. I can recall, even after all these years, my going to the nursery and telling them that 1 Uncle John's pretty Kirkbride was down-stairs to tea.' Then she was so gay and full of bright and happy spirits."

J. L. Howell was a young man of fine character and promise, and attractive social qualities. Their bright prospects, however, were soon clouded by his failing health; and before the close of 1828 their hopes of earthly happiness were ended by his death. The letter proceeds :

" My uncle died in 1828. Your dear aunt went down to Fancy Hill after his death, and was with my grandma some time. They were such a comfort to

ELIZA P. GURNEY.

each other; and then began the change and deepening in her religious views, which finally ripened into the perfect character of that long and lovely life. ,,

A long period elapsed before E. P. Kirkbride was enabled to rise above this crushing sorrow ; but bowing submissively to the stroke, she could at length acknowledge that it was in wisdom that she had been afflicted, and that infinite mercy had been largely mingled with the bitter cup. Her own language was, —

" Hush ! hush ! my thoughts are resting on a changeless world of bliss ; There is no voice of gladness now can lure them back to this ; I look to Thee, Redeemer ! Oh, be every crime forgiven, And take the weary captive to Thy paradise in Heaven : Or teach my heart resignedly to say ' Thy will be done,' And calmly wait Thy summons home, Thou just and Holy One ! Thou mayst have spoiled my cherished schemes, to let my spirit see That happiness is only found, great God ! in serving Thee."

In 1830, Hannah C. Backhouse, a valuable minister from England, accompanied by her husband, Jonathan Backhouse, came to this country on an extended mission of gospel love, visiting most of the settlements of Friends in the United States and Canada during a period of nearly five years. E. P. Kirkbride early became deeply interested in the public services and personal attractions of this dear friend,

and the mutual attachment which sprang up between

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them continued through life with unabated warmth, and exerted a powerful influence in determining the course of active Christian duty upon which E. P. K. thenceforward entered.

The exercises of her mind at this time are indicated by the following letters to her friend :

Woodburne, Fifth mo. 23d, 1831.

Tis in accordance with thy kind request, my dearest friend, and truly so with my own inclination, that I embrace an early opportunity of thus renewing the delightful intercourse which, for the few short days that we sojourned together, yielded to me at least such new and pure and heartfelt happiness. Oh, may I never lose the grateful recollection of my heavenly Father's tenderness and care in causing me, in my first steppings in the narrow path which He marked out for me, to meet with one on whom He has so bounteously bestowed the gift of healing and of binding up the broken heart ! Ah, no ! though rough and rugged be my future course, the memory of this sweet " brook by the way" which He prepared for me will often steal across my troubled soul, refreshing, strengthening it and filling it with gratitude to God. I had an almost silent journey home, my precious friend, and when I stepped on

ELIZA P. GURNEY. jq

the piazza my heart grew faint within me at the thought of the sad change a day had made in our late pleasant habitation ; but in a moment I distinctly heard the sweet assurance sounding in my ear, " In quietness and confidence shall be thy strength ; in returning and in rest thou shalt be saved," and it comforted and supported me unspeakably.

Woodburne, Fifth mo. 23d, 1 831.

Oh, the joy, the peace, in trusting and believing ! Truly, my beloved friend, words fail me in the attempt to prove my thankfulness to thee for all the sweet encouragement thou hast held up to me to leave all else and follow only Him, whose service I am confident must be entire freedom, perfect liberty. The world has ever been a hard taskmaster to all who have enlisted in its service, to me it was the worst of tyrants, for where I serve at all, it is with my whole undivided heart, and truly I have found my recompense for such devoted servitude to be a chalice full of gall and bitterness. To-day I feel more settled, and the view before me seems a more unclouded one than I have ever known before. Pray for me, dearest friend ; pray that my faith fail not.

Soon after the date of this letter, at H. C. B.'s particular request, E. P. K. accompanied her to New England Yearly Meeting, and continued with her till the last of the Seventh mo. But on returning to Philadelphia, some Friends thought it would be necessary to have a minute from the Monthly Meeting if she proceeded farther ; and as she did not feel prepared to ask for this, a very valuable friend and elder (but quite a stranger to H. C. B.) offered her services, and set out with J. and H. C. B. to Ohio Yearly Meeting.

While thus separated, E. P. Kirkbride wrote frequently and with great openness to H. C. B.

Philadelphia, Eighth mo. 27th, 1831. How gently does our gracious Master deal with us! how easy does He make hard things appear! Last First day morning I put on my plain drab bonnet, and though I cannot say it was a cross to me, I could not help but feel it was a solemn thing to make profession as it were to the world that I was following a meek and crucified Redeemer, and my whole soul did supplicate that both in word and deed I might be thoroughly consistent, wholly uniform.

Philadelphia, Ninth mo. 21st, 1831.

Pray for me, dearest friend, pray that I may be kept from day to day ; for, truly, I have nothing in myself that can preserve even for a single hour. Oh, I do sometimes shrink from treading in the untried path that is before me now, feeling I have no might, no power of my own, and that my steppings at the present time are awfully important to my future peace ! May an omniscient God watch over me continually, for He alone can make us dwell in safety !

I think this separation has been good for both of us. I am sure it has been for me, and I believe that when we meet again, though thou wilt be as dear to me as thou hast ever been, yet my affection for thee will be better regulated, and all things brought into much better order. It was very sweet to me, when friends were interceding for thy children, that thy heart affectionately included me ; truly, I do feel thou hast a right to call me so, for if I am but faithful to what thou hast shown me to be right, thou wilt have done far more for me than any earthly friend has ever done ; if, under grace, I owe thee my eternal happiness or my hope of it, no wonder thou art dear to me, even as my own soul.

Philadelphia, First mo. 6th, 1832. My beloved Mother, — The entire spirit of thy last sweet letter, dated the 30th of Eleventh mo., is so decidedly maternal that, having just concluded reading it, I felt constrained to address thee by this most endearing of all appellations ; and, as thou sayest, I feel so much like an adopted child to thee, I am persuaded that I could not love thee more if thou in very truth hadst been my mother. Sometimes, indeed, I have feared thou hast too great a hold on my affections ; and yet I verily believe that, truly kind as thou hast been to me, and much, too, as our tastes assimilate and all our feelings are in unison, I love thee more for thy devotedness to the service of our blessed Lord than for any other cause. Oh, may our union ever be in Him ! begun in Time, perfected in Eternity.

Soon after the last letter was penned J. and H. C. B. returned to Philadelphia to attend the Yearly Meeting, at the conclusion of which E. P. K. obtained a minute from her Monthly Meeting to accompany her beloved friend through the remainder of her mission to this country, if Truth should open the way. Accordingly, in the Fifth mo. they set

ELIZA P. GURNEY.

out for Virginia, and, after spending some weeks in the neighborhood of Richmond (Indiana), including the attendance of the Yearly Meeting there, they proceeded to New England, where they remained many months visiting families, holding meetings, etc. The providential escape from death noted in the following letter occurred during this visit :

E. P. K. to her Sister.

Yarmouth, Mass., Second mo., 1833. ... J. Backhouse having left us near Sandwich last First day to attend some Quarterly Meetings to the East, we slept together, and early in the evening asked the friend with whom we lodged if she could let us have a fire in our chamber, to which she answered that there had never been one, and she thought the chimney, being new, would very likely smoke, but she would put a pan of coals on the hearth and make us comfortable. The pan or furnace was a large one, and we went to bed feeling the room was warm, but not the least suspecting there was danger. We soon fell asleep, and about twelve o'clock H. C. B. woke me, saying she was very faint, and begging me to raise the window quickly. I instantly sprang out of bed, but found I was myself so nearly gone I had to throw myself against the wall to keep from falling, and soon perceiving by the shortness and suspension of her breath that she had fainted quite, fright gave me strength, and as I was in total darkness and could not find the door, I pounded with my elbows on the wall until my strength gave out and I fell senseless on the floor. The noise, however, had aroused our hostess, and coming up to our door, she thought she heard us whispering within, and thinking all was safe, concluded she would not disturb us ; but as she turned to go down-stairs, she felt so uneasy she came quickly back again, and opening the door, let in the air, and thus restored that breath and life to us which, had she not returned, might possibly have been extinct forever. It was the most awfully alarming night I ever knew. I feel we have been mercifully cared for, and are bound to acknowledge gratefully the guardian care of that all-seeing eye which slumbers not.

In the spring of 1833, E. P. Kirkbride paid a visit to her friends in Philadelphia, leaving H. C. B. at Providence under the care of William and Anna Jenkins.

In the Fifth mo. she rejoined her beloved friend in New England, and continued with her till the autumn of 1835, when H. C. B. returned to England, having visited seventeen States of the Union and spent eight months in Upper Canada.

ELIZA P. GURNEY.

Their correspondence was steadily maintained during the next two years.

Philadelphia, Eleventh mo. 20th, 1835. Unfaithfulness ! oh, what a clog it is ! how easy to resolve, how hard to execute ! In looking back upon our journey, and writing bitter things against myself, which I invariably do when so employed, the thought of Peter has a little cheered me. How quick he was to promise, though all should be offended because of their blessed Lord, yet would he never be, and when informed by Him who knew the heart, "Before the cock crow twice thou shalt deny me thrice," he spoke vehemently, " Though I die with thee I will not deny thee." Yet when his Master's soul was sorrowful, even unto death (directly after this), and He commanded him to watch and pray, we find he slept because his eyes were heavy. What must his feelings at that hour have been when his Lord tenderly rebuked him thus : %i Simon, sleepest thou ? couldst thou not watch with me one hour?" Then as though feeling for our great infirmities : " The spirit indeed is willing but the flesh is weak." And when he denied Him and his Lord turned round and looked upon him, no wonder he went out and wept so bitterly. It does not seem to me an upbraiding look, but rather one that said, " Ah, Simon, I knew thee better than thou knew thyself, and I have suffered thee to be thus tempted that thou mightest be thoroughly acquainted with the weakness and depravity of thine own heart, and know that of thyself thou canst indeed do nothing."

Philadelphia, Twelfth mo. 26th, 1835. To-day my mind is stayed and quieted in a sweet feeling that the world gives not, under the precious influence of which we are enabled to feel gratitude of heart for every dispensation that we have to pass through, however painful some of these maybe, trusting they tend to forward us upon our journey to that state of fixedness where disappointment and anxiety can never come. In this sweet sense of resignation to our Father's will the mind can form a truer estimate of the brief moment that we tarry here, the transitory nature of our griefs and joys, and though it be but through a glass and darkly, have some faint glimpses of that better world whose joys are perfect and eternal too. Here, my sweet friend, we may at least believe (if we continue in the blessed Truth) we'll meet again, to part (oh, joyful thought !) no more forever.

ELIZA P. GURNEY.

Philadelphia, First mo. 8th, 1836. . . . Oh, truly, it will be a comfort when we can settle down in harmony and quiet once again, and feel that we indeed " owe no man anything but to love one another !" My prayer has been for thee, my precious friend, that thou mayst still be kept in that pavilion which truly is above the strife of tongues, in which thou hast assuredly found safety during thy tarriance on our shores even in a very dark and cloudy day.

Philadelphia, First mo. 17th, 1836. . . . Do, dearest, in thy low, discouraged moments, think of this : remember that in working righteousness thou art doing only half of thy allotted business, for the Apostle's exhortation is "Rejoice alway." The Psalmist bids the righteous not only be glad, but shout for joy. I do not know why I have written thus, but I have often longed thou mightest be more unvaryingly cheerful, and not write bitter things against thyself. For in the tabernacles of the righteous we are told the voice of gladness and rejoicing is, — so surely it may be heard in yours.

E. P. K. to H. C. B., on the Decease of her Youngest Son, Henry.

Philadelphia, Fifth mo. 29th, 1836.

I have received thy sweet though tenderly affecting letter, my own dear friend, and truly you have had my heartfelt sympathy, for this I am sure has been no light affliction.

Oh, how my heart has ached for each and all of you ! But, my dear friend, I have also rejoiced in that the God of all true consolation has been manifestly near, enabling, in a furnace such as this, to glorify His great and holy name. Oh, you have proved indeed u The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble, and that He knoweth those who trust in Him !" How precious must have been the seasons round the bed of death ! Oh, I remember such among the most rejoicing of my life ! Yes, 'tis at favored moments such as these the awful veil which seems to cover the eternal world, in pity to our weakness, is uplifted, and we behold as with the eye of faith " the heavens opened, and the Son of man, Jesus our Mediator, sitting on the right hand of God;" and then while burdened with infirmities and feeling that we have no righteousness of our own to trust to, these glorious truths with sweet appropriation are in love brought home to us : " It

ELIZA P. GURNEY.

2 9 is the blood of Jesus Christ that cleanseth from all sin ;" " He is the resurrection and the life ; they that believe in Him shall never die." We seem as for the first time to comprehend the blessed import of the invocation of the Son of God, and feel that the believers in His name, though parted for a little season here, will, in a world that is unchangeable, unite again, forever and forever, to ascribe high praises unto God and to the Lamb : " Father, I will that they whom Thou hast given me be with me where I am ;" " I pray for them ;" u As Thou in me and I in Thee, that they, O Father, may be one in us."